Reader getting challanged to a drinking match with Cass which she fails horribly at and starts asking for her husband, so when rhys gets jealous and asks who this husband is? She's like "you, silly"
And que extremely flustered rhys, he's like darling we aren't married, which makes her really upset so he has to play along (he loves it)
cute idea!
Rhysand x fem!reader who is looking for her husband [913 words]
CW: pre-established relationship, mentions drinking, reader is very drunk and apparently a bit of an emotional drunk, reader is also single and the bane of Cassian's existence, fluff/crack
“Mor, you’re being absolutely no help right now,” Cassian huffs, causing Rhysand and Azriel to pause their conversation at the sound of the rest of the family returning to the House of Wind.
“I’m not the one who made this mess now, am I?” Mor hisses back, clearly trying to keep quiet though the other two occupants are very much already aware of your presence.
The two males share a quick look before quietly standing and making their way towards the grumblings, murmurs, and awkward thumps coming from the trio.
“M’not a mess!” You all but wail in response, and Rhysand’s steps speed up as he follows the sound of your distress.
“No, of course you’re not, gorgeous,” Cassian backtracks immediately, though the exhaustion in his voice is palpable.
“You’re not a mess, sweets. Cassian’s just an ass,” Mor agrees, imbuing her tone with a sticky sweetness that has even the shadows curling.
You sniffle. “He’s s’mean to me.”
“Oh, Cauldron,” Cassian groans, “Rhys is gonna kill me.”
“Kill you for what?” Rhysand asks as he finally makes his presence – and the fact that he was aware of your arrival – known.
“Mother abo- hey, Rhys,” Cassian starts, nearly dropping your rather listless frame in his surprise before hauling you back up against his side.
“What am I going to kill you for, brother?” Rhysand asks again, though he’s beginning to make some educated guesses at the fact that you can barely stand and are rather distraught in his arms.
“What? Oh! No, nothing, we-”
“Cassian challenged Y/N to a drinking challenge and she lost and now everything he says makes her cry,” Mor quickly spews all in one breath.
Cassian swears under his breath. “First of all, she challenged me. Secondly, not everything I say makes her cry, just-”
“He’s been s0- s’mean, Rhys,” you lament around a hiccup, turning your glassy eyes and pouty lip towards him and Rhysand is a sad, pathetic male because he folds immediately.
“What’s he done to you, darling?” He coos rather pathetically, earning him a huff of amusement from Azriel.
“I only told her the truth,” Cassian grumbles under his breath as he transfers your weight over to Rhysand.
“He sa- he said he wouldn’t bring me t’my husband,” the end of your sentence is punctuated by a sob and Rhsyand’s unsure which has him feeling more murderous: the idea of you with a husband, or your brokenhearted wailing.
“Now, why would you say such a thing, Cass?” Azriel deadpans so earnestly that Rhysand’s lips threaten to pull up at the corners.
Cassian, though, turns to glare at him with a look that could level battlefields. “Because she doesn’t have one.”
“I do too!” You almost squeal, letting your arm fall in a way that Rhysand thinks was meant to simulate a stomp of your foot, if only your feet weren’t actively working against you at the moment.
“And, who is this…husband?” Rhysand finally manages to ask, crouched on the floor of his home with the female he’s been in love with for nearly as long as he can remember – curled up in his arms and drunk six ways to Sunday – sobbing into his chest about a husband he’s quite sure you don’t have.
You suck in a hiccuping breath, roughly rubbing the back of your fist along your eyes before looking up at him as though he might be the saviour from whatever strife you’re currently experiencing.
“It’s you,” you murmur, bottom lip somehow finding a way to jut out even further as you blink wet lashes at him. Fissures fracture across Rhysand’s heart, leaving spidery splinters in its wake.
Mor, it seems, takes pity on her poor High Lord, attempting to placate the teary fae currently torpid in his arms. “Sweetheart, you and Rhys aren’t-”
But Rhsyand’s immediately shushing you (and her) when your eyes squeeze shut as though Morrigan telling you that Rhysand isn’t your husband causes you actual, physical pain. Rhysand is starting to wonder if he doesn’t feel it, too.
“Sh, sh, sh. Of course I am; why would they say such things, hm?”
He’s immediately fussing over you, brushing a few baby hairs licked with sweat from drink and dance away from your temples with gentle thumbs before moving to clean away the tears marring your perfect face.
“Poor girl,” he murmurs as he presses fleeting kisses to your hairline.
“Unbelievable,” Cassian huffs from somewhere to his left; Rhysand has effectively shut the rest of the world out as he leans into his new role, his favourite role.
“So mean,” you repeat, though your ire is significantly swayed in the face of Rhysand’s affections.
“They’re just terrible, aren’t they? Cruel, wicked fae. Let's get you cleaned up and ready for bed, hm?”
Rhysand makes quick work of collecting you from the floor, tucking your head under his chin as he supports you with one arm behind your back and the other beneath your knees before he makes his way towards your chambers.
He’s too busy murmuring sweet nothings into the crown of your head to pay much mind to the family snickering behind him, watching the two of you leave.
“He is so whipped,” Azriel murmurs, offering Cassian a conciliatory pat to the shoulder for thinking he could hide you from Rhysand at all, let alone when you were so distressed.
“Y’gotta admit, though,” Mor adds, “he’s a pretty good husband.”
Summary: One overheard sentence. One High Lord pushed too far. One mistake that nearly breaks their bond.
Warnings: angst, emotional hurt/comfort, misunderstanding, implied cheating (doesn't actually happen), Amren becoming a peacemaker (shocking), fluff towards the end
See masterlist
She didn't mean to overhear.
Truly, she hadn't. She'd only gone upstairs to find Rhys--she had felt the tug in their bond, the faint ache at the back of her ribs that always meant he was struggling more than he let on. She wanted to check on him. Maybe even convince him to sleep for more than two hours for once.
But when Y/N reached the hallway outside his study, she froze.
Voices. Cassian's. Azriel's. Low, serious.
And Rhys's--quiet, tired in a way that made her chest squeeze. She should have walked away.
She didn't.
"Rhys...you should tell her," Cass was saying.
"What's the point?" Rhys' voice came, rough. "She'll find out eventually."
Y/N's stomach hollowed. Find out...what?
Azriel's voice followed, soft but cutting. "It already looks bad. If she hears it the wrong way- "
"I know how it looks," Rhys snapped. Not angry, just frustrated. Defeated. "Cauldron, Az, I know."
Then Cassian, with a sigh:
"You've spent more time with her this week than with Y/N--your mate, may I add--anyone would get suspicious."
Y/N's heart stopped cold.
Her.
With her.
Who is this...her?
She stepped back without meaning to, the floorboards groaning softly under her heel-
And she panicked. She turned and slipped down the hallway before any of them could sense her, before Rhys could feel the spike of hurt through the bond. She buried it down, smothered it under a tight layer of control until she felt sick.
By the time she reached the bottom of the stairs, her breathing was all wrong. Her mind was already devouring her alive.
Rhys had been pulling away for weeks. She tried to brush it off as stress, exhaustion, the endless demands placed on him--but gods, she felt him drifting like a tide she couldn't pull back. Late nights. Closed doors. That fading warmth in the bond that she tried so hard not to read into.
Three nights in a row. All with vague excuses: "meetings," "unexpected issues," "I'm sorry, love--another time."
And she believed him. She always believed him.
A soft, sweet scent she didn't recognise lingering on his clothes days ago. She'd asked, testing, light-hearted. Rhys had brushed it off with a too-casual, "Probably from someone I walked past."
But now...now that excuse burned like a lie.
It was a lie.
Her palms were cold. Her throat tight.
Rhys wouldn't cheat. He wouldn't.
But the words she heard, the tone he used, the exhaustion, the distance-
It all twisted together until she couldn't breathe.
Maybe this was why he'd been so withdrawn. Maybe she'd done something wrong. Maybe...maybe he no longer loves her.
And the cruelest past?
The bond between them was quiet. Muted. Like he'd thrown up walls to keep her from feeling too much. From finding out. Her steps faltered as her vision blurred for a heartbeat.
The Mother above, what if he really didn't want her anymore?
Y/N woke up alone.
Again.
Rhys's side of the bed was cold, the sheets barely rumpled--as if he hadn't even tried to sleep beside her. The bond between them throbbed faintly, a dull, weary ache that told her he was still awake, still working, still somewhere she wasn't invited.
She stared at the empty pillow for a long moment, something tightening painfully beneath her ribs. Yesterday's overheard words replayed like a curse. It looped. And looped. And looped.
By midday, she wasn't angry. Not yet. She was...hollow.
She went about her day in a daze--smiling at conversations she couldn't remember, her thoughts always snapping back to the same poisonous possibilities.
Every time the door opened, she looked up.
Every time footsteps sounded down the hall, her heart leapt.
She kept expecting Rhys to appear--tired, apologetic, reaching for her.
He didn't.
He didn't even send a mental touch through the bond. Not one flicker of reassurance. Not one warm pulse to say I'm thinking of you.
It was silence.
And silence--she learned--was the sharpest blade of all.
By nighttime, the hollowness had clarified into something colder. Harder. Her chest felt tight and metallic, her breathing shallow as she sat curled on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket that did nothing to warm her.
When the clock reached past midnight, she finally heard his footsteps.
Late...again.
The door opened softly, cautiously, as if he already knew he'd failed her without knowing why.
Rhys stepped inside.
He looked...wrecked. Shoulders tense, hair mussed from running his hands through it, eyes shadowed with exhaustion so deep she could barely read the violet beneath.
But he smiled when he saw her.
A small, soft smile that once would have melted her whole world. Now, it made her stomach twist.
"Hello, darling," he said quietly. His voice was frayed, but gentle. He crossed the room slowly, like approaching a wounded animal. "I didn't want to wake you."
"I wasn't asleep," she replied flatly. The smile slipped the tiniest bit--but he kept coming. He leaned down, reaching to press a kiss to her temple.
She turned her head away. His lips met air and he froze.
A beat of silence filled the space between them--heavy, startling.
"...Y/N?" His voice was careful now. That High Lord calm he used when he sensed something dangerous. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," she said, her tone ice-smooth. "Long day."
He crouched in front of her, searching her face with those keen, perceptive eyes--the ones she used to adore. The ones she now resented for not seeing the obvious.
"You've been quiet since yesterday," he said softly. "Talk to me."
She let out a sharp, humourless huff of laughter.
"Oh, talk to you?" Her voice was sweet, poisoned by honey.
"Why? So you can tell me more lies? Or should I just go ask Cassian and Azriel what else you've been keeping from me?"
Rhys blinked. Confusion flickered. Concern deepened. "What?" he whispered.
She smiled. A cold, wicked little curl of her lips--because the pain had finally curdled into something sharp enough to wield.
"You heard me," she said, each word clipped, dark. "Or should I ask her directly?"
His brows knit, breath catching. "Ask--who?"
And that was it. Her composure, her restraint, her silence--shattering cleanly down the middle.
She stood so suddenly he rocked back on his heels, and when she spoke, her voice was no longer cold.
It was ice cracking.
"You really want to know?" she seethed, eyes blazing.
She took one step toward him-
And delivered her first devastating blow:
"Fine. Let's start with who the hell you've been spending all your time with instead of me."
For a heartbeat, Rhys didn't move. Her accusation hung in the air like smoke, thick and choking.
He stared at her, stunned--because it was so absurd, so impossible, that for the first time in days, something flickered in him that wasn't exhaustion.
Now it was his turn to let out a low, humorless laugh.
"There is no such thi- "
But her face--gods, the way she flinched at that laugh--it punched straight through his chest.
Before he could soften his voice, before he could step closer-
She exploded.
"Oh, don't you dare lie to me now!" Y/N shouted, voice cracking under fury. "Don't you DARE stand there and lie to me like I'm some clueless idiot!"
"Y/N- "
"I overheard you!" she screamed over him, not giving him a single breath to speak. "Last night--outside your office--Cass and Az were practically spelling it out for you!"
Rhys's blood ran cold.
"You what- ?"
"You spent more time with her this week than with me," she spat, venom and heartbreak woven together. "It looks BAD Rhys--that's what Azriel said. Bad."
The floor felt like it tilted under him.
"Wait. Wait. Just--let me explain- "
"Oh, NOW you want to explain?" she barked a laugh, sharp and pained and cruel. so different from his beloved Y/N. "Now that I already know? Now that it all makes sense?"
Rhys closed his eyes for one second--one--trying to breathe, to center himself, to keep control.
She was his wife. His mate. His High Lady. He did NOT yell at her. Ever.
"Y/N," he tried again, "You're not hearing- "
"Oh I'm hearing perfectly," she hissed. "I understand EVERYTHING now. The late nights. The scent on your clothes. The constant excuses. The distance. The way you barely look at me anymore- "
"That's not- "
"Save it!" she cut him off, stepping closer, eyes blazing. "Save your little High Lord excuses, Rhysand. I am DONE being made a fool."
His jaw clenched. His pulse pounded.
He felt it--that dangerous line inside him, the one he guarded with iron control--begin to tremble. She didn't let him speak. She didn't let him breathe.
And Cauldron, he was trying. He was trying so hard not to break but she just kept going.
"Y/N, just STOP for one- "
"You don't touch me, you don't talk to me, and now I KNOW WHY!" she screamed, her voice raw. "I cannot believe I trusted you. I cannot believe-"
Something inside him snapped.
The weeks of sleepless nights, the threats against Velaris, the political sabotage, the collapsing treaty, every burden he'd carried alone so she wouldn't have to-
It all collided with her words and detonated.
"SHUT. UP."
His roar shook the air. She froze.
Silence suffocated the room as her eyes widened--not in anger now, but in shock. Wounded shock.
"I have been having the WORST weeks of my life," he snarled, voice frayed with restraint he was no longer managing. "Trying to keep this court safe, trying to stop an impending, possible war, trying to do EVERYTHING--and instead of asking me what's wrong, you accuse me of cheating on you?"
Her throat bobbed. But she said nothing.
"So forgive me," Rhys spat, "if I don't have the patience tonight for your assumptions."
He saw the hurt bloom across her face--saw it, recognized it--and still the words kept coming.
He couldn't stop himself.
"You think I'm distant?" he demanded. "You think I'm choosing someone over you? Maybe if you acted like a proper High Lady you'd understand what I've been dealing with instead of throwing tantrums- "
Her lips parted in disbelief. Horror.
But he wasn't finished. It spilled out of him--ugly, raw, unfiltered.
"Maybe it was a mistake," he said, cold and furious, "to think you were ready for any of this."
She flinched. A full-body flinch.
Rhys felt it like a blade twisting in his gut. And gods help him--he still didn't take it back.
They stared at each other, breathing hard, the air electric and broken. Then she blinked--slow, shaky--fighting tears with every ounce of strength she had left.
She stepped around him without a word.
"Y/N- " Rhys said, reaching out.
She pulled away from his voice like it burned.
"I'll send someone for my things," she said flatly, not looking at him. "Don't come after me. Don't speak to me. Don't even THINK about me."
His heart stuttered. "Y/N- "
"We're done," she whispered, pulling on her coat with trembling hands. "And we will be discussing how to sever the bond--since I'm such a terrible mate and High Lady."
She walked to the door, opened it and didn't look back.
The slam of the door echoed through the halls long after she disappeared. Rhys stood alone in the silence.
He didn't chase her. Couldn't.
All he felt was a crushing storm of anger. Shame. Exhaustion.
And the gaping hole in the bond where her presence had just vanished.
"Say that part again, girl. Because I must've misheard you the first six times."
Amren's voice cut through the room like a blade dipped in frost.
Y/N sat curled on the edge of the guest bed, eyes red, cheeks wet, hands shaking so badly she had to grip the blanket just to stay upright.
"He...he said..." Y/N choked, voice breaking all over again. "He said I wasn't acting like a proper High Lady. That making me one was a mistake. He- " Her breath hitched sharply. "He said- well, implied that it would've been better if he didn't have me as a mate."
Amren blinked once. Slowly.
As if the words themselves insulted her ancient existence. "Rhysand actually said that to you? Out loud? With his mouth?"
Y/N nodded, another sob ripping free as if the confirmation stabbed deeper. "Yes," she whispered. "Yes, he did."
Amren's expression didn't soften--but something inside her eyes shifted. A dark, simmering storm of fury that promised bloodshed if she chose it.
"That idiot." Her voice was quiet, lethal. "That absolute, insufferable, self-sacrificing idiot."
Y/N let out a broken sound that might've been a laugh, might've been another sob. Amren sat beside her--not touching, but close enough that Y/N felt anchored by the sheer solidity of her presence.
"Well?" Amren said. "Keep going. Empty it out."
So she did.
She told her everything--raw and unfiltered. Every accusation she had thrown, every word Rhys had snapped at her, how this whole thing even started and...the final moment--the bond she'd felt splinter under his voice. How she'd walked out while he just stood there, silent and furious.
By the time Y/N finished, she was shaking so violently that she had to press both palms against her knees just to steady herself.
"And- and the way he looked at me," Y/N whispered, chest heaving, "I don't even know if he still loves me. I don't- I can't- "
Her voice caught, broke, collapsed. Amren finally placed a hand on her back.
It wasn't gentle. It wasn't soft. It wasn't motherly.
It was Amren. Grounding. Precise. Certain.
"He loves you, you fool."
Y/N sobbed harder. After a long moment, voice trembling, she whispered:
"...Do you know who she is?"
Amren frowned. "Who?"
"Who Rhysand has been cheating on me with," Y/N said desperately, wiping her cheeks with trembling fingers. "Cassian and Azriel clearly know. They didn't tell me. They didn't tell ME. So if YOU know--if you've heard ANYTHING--please, just tell me. Please."
Amren stared at her for a full three seconds. Then:
"Girl."
It wasn't an endearment. It was disbelief.
"If Rhysand were actually sticking his dick somewhere it didn't belong, I would've told you before he finished buckling his pants. I fear no male, and certainly not that brooding bat."
Y/N blinked at her through tears. Amren continued, curt and blunt as always: “But I've heard nothing. Seen nothing. And believe me--if something was happening behind your back, I would smell it before anyone else."
Y/N's face crumpled.
"So...you don't know?"
"No," Amren confirmed. "Because there is no one."
"But Cass- Az- "
"They know something," Amren cut in sharply. "But it isn't what you think."
Y/N swallowed, shaking her head. "No. You're wrong. I heard it all properly clear. Why are they hiding something?"
Amren looked away, jaw tight.
"Because they are hiding something. And I'm gonna get to the bottom of this."
That didn't soothe Y/N. Not even close.
Her breaths grew shallow. Erratic. Her lip trembled as if the weight of everything finally became too much.
"Amren," she whispered, voice tiny, broken. "Why would he say all those things to me? Why would he--why would he hurt me like that?"
Amren closed her eyes.
"Because he is tired," she said quietly. "And stupid. And reckless with the things he holds dear when he is drowning."
Y/N let out a soft, strangled cry. "I don't want to lose him but if what I heard is true, I do need to break our bond."
Amren's voice gentled by a fraction. "Then don't make any decisions tonight."
Y/N nodded faintly. And then her body gave out.
She slumped sideways, exhaustion finally dragging her under. Her breaths evened. Her fingers loosened their death grip on the blanket.
Amren watched her sleep.
For a long, silent minute, she simply stood there--arms crossed, ancient mind calculating, fury simmering with every inch of her.
Then she sighed.
"I suppose I'll have to deal with the three batshits myself."
She pulled the blanket higher on Y/N, tucking her in with surprisingly careful hands.
"Unbelievable," she muttered. "You would think the High Lord of the Night Court knew how to use his words."
She stepped away, her eyes flashing silver.
Then: "Time to drag Cassian and Azriel into this mess--before those idiots let the whole mating bond go to hell."
With that, she put on her boots and closed the door.
Oh how Cassian had missed his bed. After three whole weeks away in the Illyrian camps, it felt amazing to be back at home, in his beloved bed. And now, he was in a beautiful, peaceful dream--one where he was shirtless (obviously), admired (as he deserved), and for some reason, winning a wrestling match against a very smug-looking Rhysand--when a voice like a razor dragged across stone slashed into the dream.
"Wake up, you overgrown, winged buffoon."
Cassian jerked so hard he nearly rolled off the bed. His eyes flew open to-
"Amren," he croaked, blinking at the petite creature standing on his mattress like some vengeful housecat. "Are you--are you standing on me?"
"Unfortunately," she said, stepping over his leg with a look of disgust. "Get up."
Cassian pushed himself onto his elbows. "It's- " he squinted toward the window "-The middle of the Cauldron-damned night. Why are you here? Did you run out of victims?"
Before Amren could reply, a groan came from near the door. Azriel came in slowly, shadows sluggish and sleepy around him, hair a disaster.
"What's happening?" Az rasped, rubbing a hand over his face.
Amren didn't even look at him as she pointed toward the door. "Both of you. Out. Now. And put on pants, Cassian. No one wants to see all...that"--she gestured vaguely at his bare torso--"at this hour."
Cassian sputtered. "Everyone wants to see this. This is public art."
Azriel yawned so wide his eyes watered. "Just...do what she says," he muttered.
Cassian stared at him, betrayed. "You're siding with her?"
Az just shrugged in that exhausted, "I've already accepted my fate," way and trudged toward the door.
Cassian scrambled for his pants, hopped into them halfway successfully, and followed.
When he stepped into the living room, Amren was perched on an armchair like some ancient gargoyle preparing to deliver judgment. Azriel leaned against the table, arms crossed, shadows awake now and twitching with mild concern.
Cassian dropped onto the couch, rubbing his eyes. "Okay." He pointed at Amren. "Start talking. Did Rhys blow up something? Are we being invaded? Because if I got out of bed for anything less than an apocalypse, I swear- "
Amren exhaled slowly, heavily--which immediately shut him up.
"This," she said, "is worse."
Azriel's posture sharpened.
Cassian sat up straighter. "What's worse than the apocalypse?"
Amren fixed them both with a deadly look.
"I'm about to tell you. And you both better answer all of my questions."
Amren had explained everything. Every shouted word, every accusation, every razor-edged insult Rhysand had spit in a moment of idiocy. By the time she finished, Cassian's jaw was on the floor and Azriel looked like someone had knocked all the air from his lungs.
Cassian was the first to speak. "So...why did they even fight?"
Azriel dragged a hand down his face, shadows coiling with agitation. "I knew this would happen," he muttered, voice low. "I knew this was going to blow up like this."
Amren snorted. "Oh, that isn't even the worst part."
Both males stiffened.
"The worst part," she continued, smoothing an invisible wrinkle from her sleeve, "is that they- or more like Y/N, is going to break the bond."
Cassian's wings flared. "What?"
Azriel's head snapped up. "Break the- Amren, no. Rhysand would never do that. He loves Y/N down to the marrow of his bones. He would never- "
"Don't be an idiot," Amren cut in sharply. "He did. Or at least, he said enough to make her believe it. And she's at my house right now, sleeping after sobbing into one of my pillows because she is convinced that her mate regrets her existence."
Cassian's voice cracked. "What did he say?"
"Oh, something about her being an incompetent High Lady and their mating being a cursed mistake," Amren said with a dismissive flick. "You know. Very romantic."
Both males stared at her as if struck.
Azriel whispered, horrified, "Rhysand wouldn't- "
"He did." Amren snapped. "Now stop saying what he wouldn't do. He already did it."
Cassian pinched the bridge of his nose. "Okay--okay, but--how did it even start? You told us everything that happened during the fight. But what started all this? How did it begin?"
Amren slowly lifted an eyebrow. A dangerous eyebrow.
"Oh? You don't know?"
Cassian blinked. "No?"
Azriel turned to him sharply. "Cassian- " he shot him a look--a stop talking look-- shadows twitching nervously.
Amren jabbed a finger toward Azriel. "No. Don't do that. Don't you dare. Both of you started this mess to begin with."
Cassian threw up his hands. "How the hell did we start a fight between Rhys and his mate?"
Amren's smile was razor-thin. "What have you been keeping secret for Rhysand?"
The room went dangerously quiet.
Amren continued, voice silken and lethal: "Y/N overheard your little conversation with him. The one where you told Rhys how he's been spending more time with her than with his mate. Y/N heard it all--every word you two geniuses whispered behind her back."
Azriel went still as stone.
Amren leaned back. "She told me everything. The mysterious female scent on his clothes. The late nights. The excuses. The distance. And then--your conversation confirming it all. She thinks he's cheating. And she's not just hurt by Rhysand." Her eyes flashed. "She's hurt by you two keeping whatever this secret female situation is hidden from her.”
Cassian swallowed. Hard.
Amren crossed her legs. "Now," Her voice dropped to a deadly whisper. "Spill it."
"No," Cassian and Azriel said at the exact same time.
Amren's eyebrow climbed so high it nearly left her forehead.
The two males exchanged a look of pure panic.
Azriel clenched his throat, shadows curling tight. "We...can't. But tell Y/N that it's not what she thinks it is. What she heard- " He shook his head. "It wasn't that."
Cassian bobbed his head vigorously. "Yeah, yeah, not like that at all. And Rhys would never cheat. He knows damn well that if he ever did, we'd be the ones he'd have to face first."
"And we'd skin him," Azriel muttered.
Amren's voice was frost. "Then why the fuck aren't you saying anything? Spill. It."
Cassian immediately descended into garbled nonsense. "Amren, look, we really can't, we made Rhys a promise--like a blood-oath-but-without-the-blood-kind of thing--and we can't break it and- "
Azriel cut him off sharply. "We simply can't. But it's not what she thinks. None of this is."
Amren rose from her chair in one slow, lethal movement. She planted her hands on her hips, staring at the two of them like they were particularly disappointing children.
"Who is this female?" she demanded. "Why is she so damn important that you're shielding her from your High Lady?"
Cassian choked. "It's not like that! It's not- it's not even someone in that way- "
"We gave Rhys a promise," Azriel said, voice flat with finality. "And we cannot break it. Under any circumstances."
Then he turned and glared at Cassian.
"I told him this would happen. I told him that if Y/N heard about this from anyone except him, she would interpret it the wrong way. And look at that--she did. But does anyone in this Court ever listen to me?" His wings flared. "No. And yet I am always right."
Cassian threw up his hands. "Oh, come on--Az don't start with that- "
"Don't start?" Shadows crackled around him. "I said this would happen. I explained it in detail. And what did he do- "
"Oh, please," Cassian groaned. "Like you didn't help keep the secret- "
Amren snapped. "ENOUGH."
Silence slammed into the room.
She looked up at the ceiling as if praying for patience from a god who had long abandoned her. Then she exhaled, sharp and deliberate.
"Well," she muttered. "I suppose we're going to have to do this the hard way."
And with that, she swept past them, heading for the door.
Cassian and Azriel exchanged one more helpless look before scrambling after her--both still in their pyjamas, hair mussed, wings ruffled, dignity entirely forgotten.
"Amren?" Cassian called, half-panicked as they followed her out.
"Where are we going?" Azriel demanded.
Amren didn't slow. "Fixing this mess," she said. "Before the two of you make it worse."
The townhouse door creaked open beneath her hand. Silence greeted them--thick, heavy, wrong.
Cassian and Azriel stepped in behind her, wings folding as their eyes adjusted to the dim interior.
Then Cassian let out a low, horrified whistle. The place was wrecked. Chairs overturned. A table split clean in half. Books scattered in a glittering pool on the floor. The living room looked like a brute had torn through it, except this brute was the High Lord himself.
Azriel's shadows recoiled from the debris, twitching nervously. "He lost control."
Cassian nudged a broken picture frame with his boot. "This is bad. Really bad."
Amren didn't even glance at the destruction. "Search the lower rooms," she ordered, already heading for the stairs. "I'll take upstairs."
She didn't need to explain who they were looking for. Rhysand might as well have been bleeding on the floor for how god-awful everything felt.
Amren ascended the staircase slowly, letting the charged air guide her scent trail. At the top, she turned left toward the bedroom. The door was half-open. She pushed it with a fingertip. And...there he was.
Rhysand lay on Y/N's side of the bed. Fully clothed. Flat on his back. His eyes were open but unfocused, staring through the balcony doors into the night sky like he expected answers to fall out of it.
Amren approached the bed, walked around it, and snapped her fingers in front of of his face. "Hey."
Nothing.
She leaned down until her eyes were level with his. "Hey."
Rhysand's gaze slid toward her, dull and empty. Then back to the balcony.
"She's going to break the bond," he whispered. "I didn't mean any of it. I swear."
Amren rolled her eyes so hard it hurt. "Don't get all sappy on me. I hate it when you people do feelings."
When he didn't move, she grabbed his arm with both hands and hauled him upright--because if she waited for him to stand on his own, they'd be here until the end of days.
Rhys swayed, staring straight through her.
"Leave me alone, Amren," he murmured. "I've made the greatest mistake of my life tonight. I don't think I'll recover from it."
"Yeah, you did." Amren said tartly. "And then you also didn't follow after her or give her any explanation without insulting her. Who the hell calls their wife, their mate, an incompetent High Lady or a cursed existence."
He flinched. "So she told you."
"She's staying with me, you dipshit," Amren snapped. "Of course she told me."
Rhys's jaw clenched. "She said she'll send someone to gather her things. She...she really wants this to be over."
For the first time, something flickered in his eyes. Something close to terror.
Before Amren could respond, footsteps thundered up the stairs.
Cassian burst into the room first, looking like he expected Rhysand to be half-dead. "We're in deep shit right now," he groaned. "Rhys, this isn't the time to wallow. Go and get your woman back."
Azriel followed silently, wings tucked tight. He didn't hesitate--he walked right up and crouched in front of Rhys, glaring at him like a judge sentencing a criminal.
"This is all your fault," Azriel said, voice low and lethal. "You made us keep that secret. Now all three of us look like traitors to Y/N."
Rhys stared blankly at him. "This is what you're worried about? Your precious reputation?"
Azriel's shadows flared. "No. I'm worried about Y/N. I'm worried about the fact that you didn't explain the situation to her. I'm worried because I told you--multiple times--that this would happen. That she needed to hear it from you. That she would misunderstand everything if she found out some other way."
He jabbed a finger toward the ruined room. "And look. Look at your house. It's falling apart because you didn't fucking listen."
Cassian gave Rhysand a pitying look. "He's not wrong, brother- "
Amren grabbed Azriel by the back of his shirt and yanked him upright with one hand. "Enough."
Both males shut up instantly.
She crouched down slightly, leveling her gaze at Rhysand. "Are you sorry?"
Rhys blinked. "What?"
"Are you sorry for what you did?" she repeated, much slower.
He swallowed. "Amren..."
"Answer."
Rhysand closed his eyes. When he spoke, his voice cracked. "Yes. YES. I am so fucking sorry you have no idea. I love her more than anything or anyone in my entire existence. And I hurt her. I hurt the only person I never wanted to see cry. And I'd give up my throne, my crown--my wings, my power--if it meant taking back the words I said."
Amren hummed thoughtfully. "Good."
"Good?" Cassian echoed.
She stood. "If you're that sorry, Rhysand..." A slow, wicked smile curved her lips. "...then I think you should make it up to her."
Rhys's eyes snapped to hers, panic flaring. "How? She doesn't want to see me. She won't even look at me."
Amren's smirk widened into something downright devious. "Oh, don't worry," she purred. "I have an idea."
Y/N woke with a headache carved right between her eyebrows, the kind that came from crying until her ribs ached.
For a moment she didn’t remember where she was.
The sheets smelled like metal and jasmine.
Not Rhysand.
Not home.
Amren.
Right.
She pushed up on her elbows, swallowing hard. Light filtered in through the curtains--late morning, or maybe early afternoon. Time had blurred into something useless.
Her throat felt raw. Her chest felt hollow.
She’d cried herself into exhaustion.
Amren’s guest room was tidy, cold, and painfully quiet. Her dress from last night--torn in one seam, wrinkled from her shaking hands--was folded neatly over a chair. Amren had put a cup of steaming tea on the nightstand.
A note sat beside it, written in Amren’s sharp, elegant handwriting:
“Drink this. And then go breathe in the garden before your mind eats you alive.”
Y/N’s lips trembled. Gods, even Amren was worried.
She forced herself to stand. Everything inside her felt strange--brittle, almost. As if she’d stepped wrong and cracked the bones of her own heart.
She drank the tea slowly, letting the warmth fight the cold coiled in her stomach.
But her thoughts… they wouldn’t quiet.
Last night replayed itself again and again:
Rhysand’s distant voice.
His cold eyes.
The way he’d looked at her like she was a burden.
The way he’d told her she was incompetent, not ready, a mistake-
And gods, the scent...the female’s scent that clung to his clothes.
Her chest tightened so sharply she had to press a hand to it.
She inhaled once. Twice.
It didn’t help.
Neither did the fact that Cassian and Azriel had known. Known something. Kept it from her.
Let her walk around clueless while whatever this… female situation was unfolded behind her back.
A humorless laugh slipped out of her.
Mor had once joked that the Illyrians would rather fight the King of Hybern naked than break a promise.
Apparently that applied even when the promise harmed her. A knock came on the door.
Short. Sharp.
“Get up,” Amren’s voice drawled. “You look like a corpse and smell worse. The garden’s the only thing that’ll keep your mind from imploding for the next five minutes.”
Y/N exhaled shakily. “Thank you,” she whispered, though she didn’t know if Amren heard.
She pulled on a soft sweater Amren had left out and stepped into the hallway. The house was quiet--unnervingly so--and Amren was nowhere to be seen. Probably giving her space.
Or lurking nearby in case Y/N tried to run away again.
Y/N padded barefoot down the stairs, then toward the back door.
The handle was cool under her palm.
For a moment she just… hesitated.
She didn’t know why.
Something in her chest fluttered--warning or instinct, she couldn’t tell.
She stepped outside.
The garden was bright with midday sun, warm despite the tightness in her chest. Silver leaves rustled in a lazy breeze. A few purple blossoms were open, dotting the path.
Y/N inhaled shakily and stepped forward.
And froze.
Someone was standing in the center of the garden.
Tall. Broad-shouldered.
Wings tucked tight, as if he feared they might tremble.
Black hair, messy like he hadn’t slept--or had ripped his hands through it too many times.
His back was to her.
But she knew that stance.
That silhouette.
That presence that always filled a room like a tide.
Rhysand.
Her heart slammed painfully against her ribs, once, twice. He turned.
And when his eyes met hers--violet, rimmed with exhaustion, lined with regret--her breath disappeared entirely.
Y/N’s hand hovered over the door handle, fingers trembling, heart still hammering in her chest. Her chest ached from anger, from frustration, from the raw betrayal she thought she’d felt. She just wanted to walk away, leave it all behind.
“Y/N, please.”
The voice cracked through the air, desperate and ragged. Her hand froze. She turned slightly, eyebrows furrowed, unsure why she even listened. “Please, let’s just talk. Let me explain myself to you, just once,” he added, each word weighted with raw urgency. “Whatever decision you make after that, I’ll respect it. I’ll move out of your way. But please… just listen to me. Just once.”
She exhaled slowly, almost against her will. Something inside her softened, if only a little. With a reluctant sigh, she turned to face him fully, arms crossed over her chest, not moving closer but not leaving either. That small gesture, that quiet hesitance, was enough.
Rhysand stepped forward slightly, careful to keep the distance that wouldn’t scare her, and exhaled with the kind of quiet tension that made her stomach twist. “I… didn’t explain myself properly last night,” he said, his voice low. “I was just… exhausted.”
“Don’t give me that same bullshit,” Y/N cut him off sharply. “We’re all exhausted. I am, or--no, I was--the High Lady. I know what it’s like to carry weight on my shoulders. And I never once took my anger out on you. I never did that to you, Rhysand.”
He sighed, long and heavy, the sound echoing around them. “I know. I know I fucked up. I meant none of it. Please.”
She didn’t move. She just let him go on.
“I… consulted a curse-breaker,” he began, voice careful, eyes never leaving hers. “I was worried about you, about your bond. I didn’t want you to feel… forced, overwhelmed, or unsafe. I made Cassian and Azriel promise not to tell you anything until I could explain it properly, because I wanted to understand it myself before alarming you. The curse-breaker was helping me gauge your connection, how the bond was responding… everything, from start to finish. That’s why I was coming home late. That’s why I seemed distant. And I know I have no excuse for the times I locked you out, or for the way I’ve been… distant. But none of it was ever meant to hurt you. I swear, Y/N, none of it.”
Her arms slowly unfolded, the tension in her shoulders easing imperceptibly. He took a cautious step closer. “I would die for you, Y/N. I would kill everyone in this world to make sure you are safe. Everything I’ve done… it’s only ever been for you. And that night… what I said… I was angry, exhausted, frustrated. I was trying to hurt back because I felt hurt myself. But none of it was true. None of it. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. I wouldn’t--couldn’t--want another mate. I wouldn’t do this with anyone else.”
Y/N’s eyes shimmered, a mix of shock and relief, and she whispered, almost disbelievingly, “You spoke with the curse-breaker because you were worried about me… and you didn’t want me to feel forced into this bond… or overwhelmed.”
“Yes,” he breathed. “Exactly. I wanted you to make your own choices, in your own time. I didn’t want to corner you. I wanted you to feel safe and… loved. On your terms.”
Her gaze softened, and she shook her head slightly. “But you could’ve told me. We could’ve talked together. Hiding things from me… it only makes me misunderstand you. We talk. That’s what mates do. We share our burdens. I am your partner, Rhysand. For life.”
“I know,” he said, his voice low and earnest, almost reverent. “I know. I swear to you, that’s what I’ll always do. No hiding, no lashing out, no locking you away when I’m stressed. I promise.”
Y/N nodded slowly, the tight knot in her chest loosening further. “I wasn’t even going to break the bond,” she admitted quietly.
A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Good. Then maybe I’ll just have to prove myself harder until you fully trust me again.”
She allowed herself a tiny, weary smile in return.
He took another small step, until they were mere inches apart, foreheads gently touching. “By the way,” he said with a soft smirk, “that female I was meeting? Very old. Very wrinkly.”
Y/N blinked. “What?”
He grinned. “Grandmother-level old.”
“Rhysand!” she laughed, hitting his chest lightly, but she leaned into him anyway, wrapping her arms around his waist.
He hugged her back firmly, just once. “I know this isn’t fully resolved,” he murmured into her hair.
“No,” she said, pulling back slightly, but still holding him. “Next time… you tell me immediately.”
“I promise,” he said, voice steady, “never hiding anything from you again. Never lashing out. Never locking you out when I’m stressed.”
Just then, from behind the open garden door, Cassian and Azriel emerged with Amren in tow.
Cassian’s voice called out, teasing: “So… are we also forgiven now, or are we on permanent probation?”
Y/N turned, smirk tugging at her lips, “Depends on whether you two can behave like responsible adults for five minutes straight.”
Cassian shrugged dramatically, hands up. “Hey, I consider standing still for ten seconds straight a win. That’s about as adult as I get.”
Azriel rolled his eyes, muttering, “Focus, Cassian. It’s not about you this time.”
Y/N let out a soft laugh, and Rhysand tightened his hold on her, letting the moment of relief wash over them both.
The tension hadn’t vanished completely, but for the first time since last night, they could breathe.
hi!! I have this little idea (if you’re okay with that) of reader being cassian or azriel’s sister who has a thing for rhysand, and growing up she would always want to spend time with them but they would always just leave her chasing behind them because they’re doing “boy stuff”. Fast forward, they’re all grown up and Rhysand sees that her friend group treated her badly and they keep making plans without her and he goes all protective over her and realizes he has feelings for her
Background Noise
pairing: rhysand x reader
warnings: angst but there’s plenty of fluff sprinkled in too for my softies, swearing, mean!az :( but it’s okay bc we have rhys to comfort us, bullying, drama, takes place before UTM, left the ending open for potential for a pt.2 but who knows
—
Solitude and you had become fast friends.
You were used to being left alone.
Familiar with being the one waving goodbye as your brother and his friends disappeared off for hours and days and weeks at a time to explore—to live.
They’d always return with scrapes and bruises, new tattoos and tales to tell, bright smiles and inside jokes shared amongst each other while you silently tended to their wounds. Surviving vicariously through their thorough reenactments and the occasional mental projection from the heir of the Night Court. “Sounds like quite the adventure,” You’d murmur softly, carefully stitching the gash on Rhysand’s calf. “I’m almost jealous.”
“Jealous of what?” Cassian questions as if they were the most absurd words you’d ever spoken. “You have plenty of friends.”
“Right.” You can’t find the courage to delve any further for if they’d bothered to prod a little more; to actually ask for details about these so called ‘friends’, they’d realize you’d been lying through your teeth. Any attempts made always leaves you feeling dejected. Too used to being the butt of all their jokes. The object used as their punching bag on bad days; pushing you in mud, the horrible names, the awful rumors they spread at your expense.
No one wants to be friends with a dud.
A bastard born, rejected from not only her father and hometown but your brother too. You couldn’t even recall the last time Azriel had regarded you as anything more than a nuisance—his face morphing into a sneer at the very sight of you, all happiness suddenly leeched from his features the second you come into frame.
You learn to adapt.
Squeezing your presence down into the tiniest of boxes. Making hushed promises to whoever will listen that you’ll be good. Swearing in every language you know that no one will even notice you’re there as long as they just allow you to be around them. Praying to the God above for forgiveness of your faults, to cleanse you of whatever stains your soul so profoundly that not a single person dares enter your orbit.
“Speaking of which, why aren’t you out with them?” Azriel questions, his voice void of warmth and you freeze like a doe under a hunters stare.
“If she leaves then who else is going to play nurse?” Rhys’ leg is crossed over his knee, his teasing just as casual as his body language and gratefulness seeps from every pore when you quickly glance up at him, muscles unlocking from their rigidity.
“I’d rather suffer.”
Cassian lets out a noise, displeasure evident in the cutting glare he throws Azriel’s way but he remains sat, spine sinking into the soft couch cushions as he waits in line for you to dress his wounds. “Speak for yourself, asshole.” Wings rustle behind him, raised tall and taut against his back. “She’s got the softest hands around.”
“Can’t imagine where she got it from—certainly not her father that’s for sure.”
Another verbal assault thrown your way with no mercy for the fact that you were unarmed. No armor or weapons to defend yourself with; constantly bashed for inheriting the features of a male too cruel to croon soothing words to his offspring.
You try to understand, attempt to relate to the anger Azriel harbors; reasoning with yourself that his ire is warranted because he’d been burned, his scars visible—a permanent reminder of the endless cruelties of his childhood. From half-brothers raised with hate in their hearts and plenty of hurt to spread around.
Perhaps, that’s why he ignores your trauma for it’s not as obvious as his own.
Out of sight, out of mind, right?
“Running a bit low on that, aren’t you?” Rhysand’s cadence cuts through the fog of your brain, saving the day yet again and giving you an out. An opening to run away from the verbal onslaught Azriel rains down like hellfire.
The healing salve you hold is filled to the brim, the safety seal still stamped in place but you nod along anyway. Rhys takes in your every move, watches how you eat every hit Az throws as if you truly believe you deserve it. Your steps are silent, ghostly, reminiscent of an out of body experience. Distantly nodding. The sequestered way you gather your medical kit and all but disappear like a puff of smoke in the breeze.
He waits until he’s sure you’re gone, the front door closing so silently he wouldn’t have noticed you’d left if it weren’t for the click of the lock sliding in place. “Your mother never taught you that if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all?”
“Oh, get over your stupid crush already,” Azriel grumbles. “She doesn’t need you running to her rescue everytime someone says anything you don’t agree with.”
Rhys doesn’t deny it, never tries to hide it—his infatuation with you. The lingering glances. Always including you in conversations. Trinkets and gifts collected on outings with your bashful face in mind. Anything to get you to smile. To break you out of your shell and sometimes it works. Until Azriel opens his stupid mouth and your shoulders cave in, snuffing out the embers of light within until it has your head bowing and mouth pursed into a firm line. “You’re right,” Rhysand stands at attention, a distant throb aching in one leg from his newly tended injury. “That should be your job.”
“You don’t get it.”
“No, I don’t.” His octave raises, anger urging the slip on his restraint to loosen. To release some of that power he always keeps a leash on. “She’s your sister, she lived through the same awful things that you did—if not worse and while you got to be freed of your anguish, you subject her to more.”
“Seriously Rhys, shut up.”
He doesn’t, refuses to even. Flame has touched gas and the reaction is explosive. “You blame her for looking like her father but by the Mother—one could say you act like him.”
The room goes still. Azriel’s face morphing from annoyance to anger. Fists ball up at his sides, nose twitching with rage as Rhys’ words hit their target with expert-level accuracy. “Take that back.”
“No, I won’t. It’s the truth.”
Shadows fill the room, expanding and growing. Blocking out the light from the windows and covering the walls in a thick layer of sentient obsidian. Power crackles with life, tensions so strong it emits its own oud.
It’s no surprise when the fight breaks out. Glowing blue combatting against a magic so violent it sends the skies rumbling.
Cassian doesn’t even bother intervening, simply moving valuables within reach out of the way before settling further into the couch as the throb of his wound aches as it waits for his turn of your healing touch. He watches almost bored-like, humming when Rhysand lands a perfect punch or cheering when Azriel dodges in a stealthy maneuver they’d been practicing for weeks.
It’s never taken too seriously, males being males. Their testosterone being burned through with physical violence and blood spilled but something seems more serious than normal when Rhys actually uses the power he usually keeps leached, his reach bending Az to his will, shoving him down to his knees. An arm is bracketed around the shadowsingers neck, blood dripping down his nose and staining a straight set of teeth as Rhys sneers in his ear. “Stop being such a prick to her. She’s hasn’t done anything wrong.”
Azriel struggled against the hold, shadows tugging at Rhys’ shoulders, wrapping around his neck, binding around limbs until both of them are red in the face with veins popping from the thin skin of their necks. “Yeah, nothing except for existing.”
“Stupid, foolish, cruel male you are. It’s like he’s standing right before me.”
Another sensitive nerve plucked and a renewed sense of urgency surges through Azriel’s body. Syphons glow as he breaks free from the hold, punches and kicks are thrown, bodies tossed into walls and tables until wood splinters and plaster crumbles to dust. “I am nothing like him.”
“With all that hate in your heart?” Rhys’s words come out heavy, teeth gritted and blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. Even then, he refuses to back down. “Might as well be twins.”
“Alright,” Cassian interjects, refusing to stand between them and their quarrel to avoid catching stray knuckles but the way Azriel’s face crumples as the hostilities is enough to initiate a ceisefire. “Maybe it’s time to calm down, she’ll be back any second.”
His hands are still clenched at his sides, knuckles split and blood already crusting over thanks to fae’s advanced healing but the rage doesn’t dissipate from Rhysand’s body—it only transforms. Locks itself away at the mention of you in order to spare you of getting singed by the aftermath of his burning ire.
He and Azriel dance around the other, this odd tension existing between them as they attempt to let this go; to diffuse the conflict—to pretend like nothing ever happened in the first place.
It doesn’t work.
Especially when rage bleeds into worry when you don’t return for an hour. Two. Three. The time tick, tick, ticks away without a single inclination on when you’d come sneaking through the entrance.
“Maybe we should go look for her?”
“Maybe she’s finally getting the hint and following her own friends around instead of mine.”
Cassian rolls his eyes, Rhys scoffs, but neither of them get to say anything more when the front door opens and slams shut.
It’s so unlike you, drawing such attention to yourself and all three heads snap in your direction just for eyes to widen and mouths to gape open like fishes out of water because you don’t return the way you left.
“What the fuck?” Azriel’s usual contempt fades instantly at the sight of you. An unfamiliar protectiveness blooms when acknowledging the tears streaming down your face and the soaking wet hair dripping fat drops onto the hardwood floor. Every inch of you is covered in goosebumps and if it weren’t for the arms crossed over your chest, you’d have flashed the whole room. “Where the hell are your clothes?”
You can’t even form a single word as you stand there in nothing but your underwear, shaking like a flag in the wind, chest heaving as the panic amplifies; embarrassment growing even deeper and your brothers heart absolutely drops to his stomach at the sob that cleaves through you. Turning on the ball of your heels, you’re off; bare feet smacking against polished floors in your hurry to run away.
To find safety.
Rhys is the first to take action, taking the stairs two—three at a time until he’s going so fast he slips against the imported rugs that run through the length of the hallway. He’s just barely reached the door to your room when it slams shut in his face, rich mahogany holding sturdy against his fists when the lock twists with a distinctive click. “Who did this?” He demands, knocking and smacking the palms of his hands against it so hard it rattles. “Did they touch you?”
“Leave me alone.” The words are like a whine, drawn out and laced in agony. Every syllable trembles, wet with raw anguish and utter humiliation.
It makes him sick, curdles the food in his belly. Triggers instincts deep rooted in his Illyrian blood until every inch of him vibrates with the need to avenge. To cause equal or greater torment upon whoever dared lay their hands on you and rob you of the little security you’d had. “I swear I will the second you just tell me who did this to you. Darling, please just let me in.”
Azriel and Cassian are steps behind him, certain that if anyone could lure the truth from you it’s Rhysand but the door doesn’t budge. Minutes pass and you can’t be heard anymore, harsh sobs shifting to thick sniffles until complete silence fills the space.
Somehow, that’s more unsettling than hearing you cry.
The spymaster steps forward, allowing his sentient shadows to slink ahead, teasing at the seam of your door until they slip through like a cool breeze seeping through the gaps of windowpanes. What they find is heartbreaking, at first all they detect is a seemingly empty room before they catch onto a slight crack on the closet door. You’re curled inside, knees tucked to your chin with a robe secured around your body and silent tears drawing silver tracks down the curve of your cheeks.
You’re stuck in your own world, a victim of constant torment; eyes distant as you rock and rock in attempts to self soothe.
Shadows creep closer, their cool touch just barely grazing your ankle before you detect their presence. Fingers angrily wipe away the evidence of your sorrow, limbs curling further into yourself as you sneer at the extension of the brother that makes it his life’s mission to make you smaller—to prove you have no worth. “If you’re here to humiliate me some more, don’t bother. I’ve had enough for one day so you can go find someone else to use as your personal punching bag.”
They flinch at the truth, recoiling back at a tone you never take with them—with anyone. Perhaps that’s Azriel’s fault too and that guilt weighs heavy in his chest to the point where he can’t even utter a word to his hovering friends, only mustering up the ability to unlock the door as his shadows quietly retreat.
Your brother doesn’t enter though. Instead, he urges Rhysand along, pleading with his eyes for him to fix the things that Azriel broke.
Rhys jumps at the opportunity, entering without hesitation and closing the door behind him. Every step is measured, calculated; carefully intruding into your space and taking up surveillance until he finds you curled inside your wardrobe. It makes him ache in the worst way, reminds him of the little boy he’d first befriended who’d been used to being shoved into darkness, locked away from light for hours and days and weeks until their cruel father deigned him access to a sliver of sunshine. Rhys has to swallow down the emotion that clogs his throat, the closet door opening with a little squeak, the final stages of sunsets copper glow providing just enough warm light to cast over your form. “Oh darling,” He croons ever so softly, brows knitted in sadness when violet eyes rest on you.
He moves slowly, as if trying not to startle a skittish animal. Fingers brush hair from your face, tucking damp strands behind your ear and coaxing the length of it behind your shoulder. Your gaze is downcast, eyes red-rimmed and nose pink from the constant rubbing and sniffling.
You don’t fight his touch, barely register it, head subconsciously tucking into the safety of his neck when he lifts you from your hiding space with ease. He smells of outside, lingering traces of wind and earth, faint touches of his body wash and that light, citrusy cologne he refuses to admit he enjoys over the more manly options loitered on his desk. “I don’t need your pity.” The words crack on their way out, your breath tickling the line of his collarbone and yet you still don’t shuffle away when Rhys kicks off his shoes and sits on your bed. He tucks you both under the covers, keeps his arms wrapped around you and begins running his fingers through your hair, tracing lines down the slope of your shoulder and the length of your back. Slow, soothing motions that send shivers along your spine and goosebumps along your flesh.
“I have no pity to give you.” He holds you close, desperately grasping onto every second he can in your bed—your space. Smelling your sheets. Sinking into the girlish softness of your pillows and silently cataloging the books you keep stacked on your bedside table. “Only rage for whoever dared put their hands on you in the first place.”
“It’s not a good look for a High Lord to take out personal vendettas out on his citizens.”
“I’m more than willing to desecrate my image for your sake. You deserve to feel safe. You’re entitled to take up space.”
The frown that creases the corner of your mouth broadcasts the physical way you deny his words. Fresh tears well in your waterline, eyes pinching shut as you attempt to hide your hurt. Rhys doesn’t let you, a thumb swiping along the thin skin under your eye to collect salty saline. “That’s not true. All I seem to do is make things worse. My presence—my existence. Even when I attempt to blend in, to be quiet, to not be seen or heard; I mean, don’t think I don’t notice the strain between you and my brother every time you stand up for me. Each kind thing you’ve ever done for me, you’ve been given such grief over and that’s not fair to you.” You suck in a deep breath, knees tucking in closer, nudging against the strong bone of Rhysand’s ribs. “I’ve been thinking of moving back home with my mom.”
“What? No. This is your home.”
“Yeah, right.” You fiddle with the hem of his shirt, nail running over the stitching, stopping yourself before you snag a fray free. Knuckles graze at the bare skin of his abdomen, muscles tensing and flexing at the touch and you’re quick to retract your touch, a blush heating up the length of your neck. “No one here likes me. I have no friends. No family. No love to tie me to this town—leaving before it’s too late is the most logical choice.”
The High Lord goes quiet, teeth clenching, jaw ticking as he fights a battle within. Confess his feelings or scare you off.
Confess.
Or watch you flee.
His heart hammers against his chest, loud enough for you to hear the steady rhythm pressed against your ear. His tongue wets his lips, gaze dipping down to memorize the slope of your nose and the dip of your cupids bow. For too long he remains silent, contemplating; memorizing the softness of your cheeks and the smell of your perfume that clings to the sheets—to you. “Sleep on it.” Rhys tucks you in closer, buries his nose in the crown of your hair and forces the notes of dates and vanilla to permanently fuse themselves in his sinuses. “We’ll talk more about it in the morning.”
You hum in agreement, the exhaustion of the day weighing heavy on your bones and coupled with the unconditional comfort that Rhysand provides, you’re asleep in no time.
He lingers longer than he should, long enough to miss dinner and for the clock to chime at midnight.
You don’t even flinch when he shifts away, too deep in sleep to notice him softly leaving you to your own sheets and the phantom warmth he provided.
He exits like smoke but the moment your door closes Rhys can’t hide his panic, can’t conceal the anger when he charges through the hallway like a bull on a mission until he finds Azriel lurking in the shadows. He barely realizes he’s gripped him by the fabric of his shirt and shoved him against the wall until the thud of weights impact reaches his eardrums. “You fix this,” He commands, hazel battling a deep violet. “Say or do whatever you need to in order to make things right with you and your sister. I swear to the Mother, if she does this, if she leaves because of you,” The syllables seethe through gritted teeth, nose scrunched in a snarl so sharp it borders on animalistic—beastly. “If she leaves because of you, considered yourself fired from your post. Banished from your duties. Exiled from the city you love so much. If she leaves, be prepared to leave with her.”
“You’re bluffing.”
“Try me, brother.” Rhys shoves him further into the wall, so hard the wood paneling creaks under the strain, so hard that cracks form along the very foundation. “I love her more than I care to coddle your fragile ego. Do the right thing or find a new home—find a new family.”
“Rhys.”
“I will choose her,” He confesses, his heart pouring out on a platter and seeping into the rug below. “She belongs to me, brother. If you don’t fix this, I will choose her over you.”
rhys x reader whos a thief and he catches her during a party- the mating bond slaps them in the face (she hates him 🌚)
slaps them in the face you say...
--
"You're early. I hadn't planned on bringing you here for hours."
The voice that seems to snake beneath the silence of the room, infiltrate without shattering it like ducking just beneath the motion sensor of an alarm, is velvet-smooth, low and calm. You'd have expected more outrage from the High Lord of the Night Court, especially since you've got your hand wrist-deep in the jewelry box that rests atop his dresser, but he's throwing up a fairly convincing facade.
Your spine straightens, and you turn on your heel, not too fast and not too slow, hands behind your back to stuff a jeweled choker into the lined seam of your skirt. He's watching you like a hawk, his eyes practically glowing, maybe with bloodlust, maybe with whatever dark magic he must possess.
"Pardon me, my Lord." You ignore his greasy insinuation, "I'd intended to find a bathroom, but everything is so opulent here that I couldn't tell the difference."
His smirk deepens, and his teeth glint in the room's low mood lighting, "Well, one way you can tell the difference is to figure out whether you're standing in front of a toilet or a bed."
"It looks like I've got the wrong one, then," You breathe a sheepish-sounding laugh, glancing at the High Lord's massive four-poster, elegant and as dark as his reputation, "Your residence is very- impressive," You nearly choke on the words, watching as he begins walking towards you, his polished shoes treading over the floor until he's only one step away from you. You're trapped against the dresser, the knob digging painfully into your back, the High Lord looming over you in front. You wonder if the jewels stuffed into your skirt are cut sharp enough to wield as weapons- could you slice his throat and run away before anyone else caught you?
"So is my jewelry collection," Rhysand purrs, and the cunning in his voice makes sense now- he wasn't going to look the other way or let you distract him; he's not stupid.
"Ehm, yes. I'll admit," You duck your head to stare at his collar, the space between it where his tanned skin narrows to a point near his navel, "-I got distracted in here."
"I know," He hums, reaching around to your back with one hand while the other closes the lid of the jewelry box. He slips his fingers between the ornately-carved knob of the dresser and the ridge in your spine that it had been biting, soothing the pain by circling the spot with the pads of his fingers. "And I also know," He moves his hand now to the waistband of your skirt, both palms now spreading over your skin, "That you've snuck about ten-thousand gold marks worth of rubies into the lining of your skirt."
Your throat dries but you swallow regardless, stomach melting and dripping down into your feet, "I won't return- please, let me go."
"You were foolish to think you could get here undetected," Rhysand croons undeterred, ducking his head down to meet your gaze, "Even if my shadowsinger hadn't alerted me to your deviation in course, I'd have felt you trip the wards of my private bedroom."
It was a foolish endeavor. Really, it was. You should have known better, but at the first chance to rob the infamous High Lord of the Night Court, you'd lost all of your sense.
You begin straining against Rhysand's hold, but unsurprisingly, it doesn't go well. You pant, chest rising and falling rapidly, and the more you struggle, the more he grins. He doesn't drag you off into his dungeons, he merely holds you tighter, uses more and more of his manpower until he must be squeezing your flesh to the bone. You can't escape, and though you know it's a piss-poor idea, your panic sets in, and one of your palms flies straight towards his face.
His wings jolt forwards, perhaps to block the slap or perhaps to slice your skin with the clawed tips. But evidently you catch him off-guard enough that he doesn't make it in time, and your palm connects with his face hard enough to jerk it sideways.
When his head snaps back towards yours, your heart stops in your chest.
His hands are no longer the tightest thing that's got a hold of you. Suddenly, the strength of his fingers falls dreadfully short of the golden thread binding your souls together, a tangible thing you feel like you can reach out and pluck like the string of a violin.
Rhysand recovers before you, pulling the ruby-encrusted choker out of your skirt's hem and dropping your waist. You're no longer physically restrained, but suddenly your fight is gone with the bruising force of his grip. You've lost the urge to run, and Rhysand deftly strings the choker around your neck, clasping it and sheathing you in ten-thousand gold marks.
"Well I don't suppose this was your plan," The corners of his mouth pull briefly upwards, carefully, hesitantly, "But you're walking away much richer regardless. If you walk away, that is."
"I'm allowed to?" You ask, not sure if it's because of the mating bond or because you'd just been caught giving yourself the five-finger discount of his personal wares, "I- um, I didn't expect to leave here tonight."
"You don't have to," He smirks, and you try remembering if the expression had made your heart pound pre-bond, because it certainly does now, "I wasn't lying earlier when I said I'd planned on bringing you here."
"How flattering." You groan, forgetting for just a moment that you're speaking to the most feared High Lord, even if he is your mate, "You wanted to disrobe me even before the Cauldron told you to."
"'Disrobe' seems unfair," His face shifts into a pensive one, "I have a little more decorum than that. I don't shove my guests into the hallway when I'm done with them. No matter- the bed is yours, if you want it."
You cast a glance over to the satin-clad mattress, the choker of rubies resting lightly on your neck. For such an opulent piece it doesn't weigh you down, and you feel it settle against you like a second skin.
Rhysand's palms press to your hips again, sliding behind you to take up his former grip on your waist. it's a lot lighter now, you're being held instead of restrained, and you breathe a long sigh into the dwindling space between you.
"I was going to rob you because I dislike the way you hoard your wealth." You admit, stabbing the words into the silence between you when it begins seeming meaningful, "Ten-thousand gold marks could feed the entire Hewn City for a month, and yet, I have to fight for my scraps."
His eyes darken slightly, dimming as he edges backwards. His hands still hold your waist, but he's not angling his face towards yours anymore, giving you space to fill with any more biting words.
"Would you like to sell it?" He asks, fingers reaching up to ghost over the necklace, "Or would you like to keep it, and feed the city with my other funds?"
You reach for the choker yourself, fingers coiling around it dangerously, like a snake prepared to strike and snap the chain, "I'll only keep it if every mouth is fed. The moment someone goes hungry," You tighten your grip, and Rhysand's eyes track the movement, deepening as he notes that you're speaking of more than a choker in the moment, "It's gone."
"I understand." He nods, his jaw tight and his words clipped, "My court's politics are... complicated, at best. But," He bites the inside of his cheek, "No one should starve."
"Fix it." You snap without thinking, and you wonder belatedly how you'd begun commanding your High Lord when a mere ten minutes ago had you pilfering through his dresser, "And- I will consider staying."
"Stay tonight," He glances slyly at you, "Relax- I will stay in my office. Your plan is ambitious, and I'll need to work on the schematics. But tomorrow," He releases your waist, and your back hits the knob of the dresser once more, "We'll put boots on the ground. And you can make your decision."
You nod, your jaw clenched just as tightly as his. You exhale, and he steps away from you to eye the way you drift towards his expansive bed- it's big enough for his wings, you realize, the ones he'd almost slit your throat with.
"Sleep." He gestures towards the bed, but his gaze is piercing as he eyes you amusedly, "Just remember- the mating bond will prevent you from slipping out without my knowledge. Should you run off with any more of my family jewels," He reaches for the box in his dresser, tucking it beneath his arm, "I will know. And I will find you."
"To get your jewels back?" You ask, despite knowing you shouldn't.
"To get you back," His face drops determinedly, and your stomach flips again, "The jewels are yours now, but you? You are mine."
Pairing: Cassian x Rhysand x Azriel x Feyre x f!reader
Summary: You’re posed, exposed, and they can’t stop tracing the lines of your body.
Warnings: nsfw, smut, rough sex, teasing, unprotected sex, foreplay/oral female and male receiving, girl on girl, multiple men, MMMFF group scene
Word Count: 2,212
Day 20 | Kinktober Masterlist | Day 22
“Can you tilt your head back a bit more?” Feyre asked, biting her lower lip, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration.
Heat rushed to my cheeks as I rested my head against Rhys’s bare chest. His skin was warm and firm beneath my cheek.
I still don’t know how they convinced me to do this. I don’t know why I agreed so quickly.
Her gaze flicked from the canvas to us, and my hands started to sweat.
“Cass, move your hand higher,” she murmured, her brush pressing against the canvas in short strokes.
Cassian’s hand slowly slid up my inner thigh. His body pressed more firmly against one side of me, all heat and muscle.
“Az, put your hands on her knees.”
Azriel’s scarred hands moved to my knees as he knelt before me. His grip tightened just enough to make my breath hitch.
I swallowed, eyes closing as I tried to calm my heart pounding in my chest.
Why did I agree to this?
Why did I say yes to sitting here, barely clothed, pressed between them?
Now here I was, pressed between three of the most handsome men in all of Prythian, dressed in nothing but sheer fabric, heart pounding, skin tingling, all because Feyre wanted to paint live models.
Cassian’s thumb grazed the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. Azriel’s hands gently pressed my knees apart. Rhys’s hands tightened on my shoulders.
The room grew brighter as the fireplace cracked. I felt warm, too warm, burning alive with the touch and smell of them.
Feyre’s eyes lingered on the way my nipples peaked beneath the sheer fabric.
I could smell the arousal in the air, the unmistakable scent of desire. I felt Azriel inhale deeply as he scented the same thing I did.
“Rhys,” Feyre said, her voice trembling slightly. “Place your hands on her jaw. Keep her head tilted back.”
My head tilted back against his lower stomach, looking up into Rhys’s eyes as his hands cupped my jaw, my pulse pounding beneath his touch.
The corner of his mouth twitched into a smirk as his thumb brushed along the line of my jaw.
He knew exactly what he was doing to me. I looked up at him, pleading. I couldn’t take this much longer.
I heard Feyre’s breath hitch as I looked up at her mate.
I shouldn’t be doing this.
I shouldn’t be feeling like this.
But her eyes darkened, her brush moved faster across the canvas, and I realised she was enjoying this.
“God,” I whispered beneath my breath as Cassian’s hand slid even higher.
His fingertips traced the spot where my thigh met my hip. I watched Rhys’s smile widen before he nodded once, a silent command passed between the three men without words.
I felt Azriel’s hands pressing my knees further apart, spreading me open before him.Rhys's hands stayed still, forcing me to keep eye contact with him.
My lips parted, maybe to ask for something I shouldn’t, maybe to whimper something desperate and pathetic, instead his thumb brushed across my lower lip.
My tongue darted out without thinking, licking his thumb, and my cheeks blushed a deep red.
His smirk turned into a grin, slow, predatory, satisfied. His thumb pressed past my lips, slipping into my mouth, and I looked up at him as I sucked and swirled my tongue over him.
I could hear Feyre’s brush moving frantically across the canvas.
I felt Azriel shift beneath me. Cassian’s hands helped me to the edge of the lounge chair.
I should have pulled away. I should have said something, done something, been stronger than the desire burning between my thighs.
Azriel pressed wet, hot kisses to the inside of my thigh. A soft whimper left my lips as my eyes fluttered shut, as Azriel’s mouth pressed higher.
Cassian pulled away the sheer fabric, his fingers finding my nipples. Pulling them just as Azriel’s mouth pressed fully against me, his tongue licking a long, slow line from my entrance to my clit.
I groaned as my lips parted, arching against Rhys. Rhys slid two fingers into my mouth, smiling as I squirmed.
Azriel’s tongue was relentless, circling my clit with precise strokes that made my vision blur.
Cassian’s fingers twisted and pinched my nipples before he soothed them with his mouth. His tongue was hot and wet as he grazed my nipples with his teeth.
I heard Feyre let out a gentle sigh, the sound of her brush strokes filling the room between my moans and the sound of Azriel’s soft grunts as his tongue tasted me.
Rhys’s fingers finally left my mouth, covered in my saliva. The palm of his hand tapped against my cheek.
“Good girl,” he whispered, his voice low.
My head fell forward, finally able to see the two men whose mouths were devouring me.
Cassian’s mouth was attached to one breast, his hand massaging the other.
I groaned, my eyes flickering to Feyre as she watched me.
Her brush was still clutched in her hand, though her chest heaved with rapid breaths, and her gaze, fixed on Azriel’s face buried between my thighs.
Rhys moved behind her, his hands sliding slowly up the sides of her body before squeezing her breasts through her shirt.
He whispered something in her ear, her cheeks flushing pink as she leaned back into him.
I opened my mouth to speak, to say something, anything, but Azriel chose that moment to slide a single finger inside me.
The sound that tore from my throat was raw.
He immediately found the spot that made stars explode behind my eyes. His mouth closed around my clit, sucking gently as his finger moved in a slow, devastating rhythm that had me begging.
“Please,” I gasped, my voice cracking on the word. “Please, I need—”
Cassian’s teeth grazed my nipple as Azriel added a second finger, stretching me.
My moan echoed through the room as I clenched around his fingers, desperate for more.
“Look at how pretty she is,” Rhys murmured in Feyre’s ear, his fingers tugging at her clothes.
Cassian left hot kisses from my breasts to my mouth, his mouth claiming mine in a rough kiss.
His fingers continued to pinch my nipples as I whimpered against his mouth, my body trembling between the two men.
“Look at you,” Cassian whispered, his lips trailing from my jaw to my throat. “Making a mess all over Azriel’s face.”
My cheeks flushed red, but I couldn't deny it as the wet sounds of Azriel’s fingers inside me filled the room.
I glanced over at Feyre, Rhys’s hands squeezed her breasts, pinching and twisting her nipples between his fingers. She arched into his touch, her paintbrush discarded on the floor.
Azriel’s fingers curled deeper inside me, Cassian’s teeth marked my throat, as Feyre’s moans began to fill the room.
I looked over at her. Rhys’s hand was between her thighs.
I came before I could stop it, my pussy clenching around Azriel’s fingers as Cassian swallowed my cries, his tongue down my throat.
Azriel slowly withdrew his fingers as he and Cassian guided me onto my hands and knees on the rug.
I felt the head of Azriel’s cock press against my entrance, while Cassian knelt before me, his cock hard, glistening with pre-cum.
“Open,” he commanded, his voice low and rough.
I obeyed, taking him into my mouth. Forcing my throat open around him, I gagged as he pressed deeper. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes as I tried to breathe through my nose.
“That’s a good girl,” Cassian said, his hand tangling in my hair and forcing his cock deeper. “Take all of it.”
He held me there, my nose pressed against the base of his cock.
Azriel filled me in a single thrust.
I moaned around Cassian. The vibration made his grip tighten in my hair.
I turned my head as much as I could with Cassian’s cock in my mouth, watching Rhys lift Feyre onto a table, her legs wrapped around his waist as he stood between her thighs. His cock was already pressing into her.
Cassian thrust into my mouth as I watched Rhys pull all the way out of Feyre, the head of his cock glistening with her arousal, before thrusting deep within her again.
Azriel mirrored his movement, withdrawing until only his tip remained inside me before slamming back in.
I moaned around Cassian in unison with Feyre’s cries. Azriel’s cock hit that spot inside me that had me trembling. Cassian filled my mouth, as my saliva dripped down my chin.
“Such a pretty mouth,” Cassian groaned, his hips thrusting faster. “Made to be fucked.”
Azriel’s hands gripped my hips hard enough to bruise, his thrusts becoming harder and harder.
Each impact drove me forward onto Cassian’s cock, forcing him deeper into my throat.
Feyre’s moans grew louder and more desperate as Rhys maintained a relentless pace.
Azriel’s hand found my clit, rubbing tight circles that made my thighs shake. I whimpered around Cassian, the sound vibrating through his cock.
“That’s it,” Cassian groaned.
Feyre cried out, her body going taut as her orgasm crashed over her.
Azriel’s thrusts become erratic, his fingers pressing harder on my clit. Cassian’s grip in my hair tighten painfull.
I came undone, my entire body shaking as pleasure crashed through me. My pussy tightened on Azriel’s cock, as he groaned behind me.
I felt him pulse inside me, his release filling me.
Before I could take a breath, Azriel flipped me onto my back, and Cassian settled between my thighs.
He buried himself inside me, and the sound that tore from me was a scream and a sob.
Cassian’s cock pushed Azriel’s cum deeper, forcing it further into my body with each brutal thrust of his hips.
“Fuck,” Cassian groaned, as my head rolled from side to side.
Each thrust forced my breasts to bounce, my hands clawing uselessly at the carpet. The pleasure was painful, almost violent, bordering on too much.
I watched as Rhys helped Feyre to her feet, his hands steadying her as she swayed.
“Let me taste him, please,” I whimpered, the words leaving my mouth before I could stop them.
Cassian’s laugh was dark and breathless. He slipped his arm beneath my knee, lifting my leg higher, angling his hips to go deeper.
The new position had tears fall from my eyes, my back arching off the floor as he hit something inside me that made stars burst behind my eyes.
Feyre straddled either side of my head. Her thighs trembled as she lowered herself; her pussy hovered just above my mouth.
My tongue licked a long, slow line from her dripping hole to her clit. I groaned into her, my hands reaching up to wrap around her waist, pulling her down onto my mouth.
She was shaking as my tongue pressed deeper, licking every drop of Rhys’s release.
“God,” Feyre moaned, her hips rolling against my face. “Please. Please don’t stop.”
Cassian’s fingers found my clit, pressing down in tight circles as he fucked me. I whimpered into Feyre’s pussy, the vibrations making her cry out above me.
My tongue traced every fold to her clit, flicking it with the tip of my tongue. Her breath came in short, desperate gasps, and I could feel her body tensing.
“I’m, oh god, I’m going to—”
She pressed herself harder against my mouth, and I felt her release flood my mouth and chin. I followed her, my walls clenching down around Cassian’s cock.
I felt him pulse inside me, his own cum adding to the mess inside me.
We stayed like that for a moment, me beneath him, Feyre still trembling above my face.
Cassian withdrew from me slowly, the sensation making me whimper as I felt their cum leak from my body.
Feyre didn’t climb off me as I expected. Instead, she bent forward, her hands reaching for the back of my thighs, and I felt her warm breath against my sensitive pussy.
My pussy was swollen and aching, still pulsing from my orgasm, and the feeling of her tongue was too much, overstimulating me.
“Feyre, I can’t, it’s too—” I gasped.
She didn’t stop. Her tongue pressed into my entrance, tasting every drop of cum that dripped from my body.
I came fast and hard, my face burying into her soaking pussy as my body arched.
The scream that tore from my throat was muffled by her pussy, my hips grinding against her mouth.
Her tongue continued its torture until I lay beneath her, whimpering and broken, coated in her release and Rhys’s, my body trembling.
Finally, she climbed off me, collapsing beside me. My hand reached for hers, our fingers intertwining as my eyes met the others.
Azriel sat with his back against the lounge chair, his face still glistening with my wetness, his cock hard in his hand.
Cassian sat beside me, his chest rising and falling heavy, his own hand working his cock in lazy pumps.
Rhys leaned against the table, his eyes watching us, hungry and predatory.
My breath hitched as I watched three men stroking themselves, knowing that the night was far from over.
Summary: Rhys is a bumbling buffoon when it comes to meeting his mate for the first time.
Warnings: awkward tension, reader lives in the hewn city
A.Note: not totally proud of this one since it’s hard for me to write first meeting stories with a concluding ending, but I hope you guys enjoy :)
Word count: 4.8k words
The scratching at my door had me sitting up in an instant, my back pressing against the cold stone wall as my hand slid beneath my pillow, fingers curling around the worn hilt of my dagger. My breath came shallow, controlled, as I listened—waiting for another sound, another shift in the air that might give away whoever had decided to test their luck tonight.
Life in the Hewn City never allowed for restful sleep. Not when shadows slithered in every alley when cruelty pulsed like a second heartbeat through its streets. And especially not now that Morrigan was gone.
Her father's estate had been far from a sanctuary, but at least the sheer power Keir wielded had kept the worst of the monsters at bay. Here, in my apartment on the outskirts of town, I had no such protection. Only thin walls, shattered locks, and neighbors who wouldn't need a reason to break into a young female's bedroom—who wouldn't care that I was High Fae, not when my magic was little more than a flickering candle in the wind.
A shiver danced down my spine as I gripped my dagger tighter, pulling it free just as the handle of my door twisted. My breath stilled.
Wards should have held. I'd watched Mor herself etch them into the worn wood, her golden power laced with every careful stroke. And yet the door creaked open, the darkness beyond bleeding into my already shadowed room.
I made myself as small as possible, the blanket of night cloaking me enough to fool a drunk—most in this wretched place were—but if they stepped inside if they came closer...
A head popped through the gap.
Gold hair caught the dim light.
My breath punched from my lungs. "Morrigan."
I tumbled out of bed, my dagger forgotten as I all but threw myself at her. She caught me effortlessly, her arms wrapping tight around my waist, solid and real, her familiar scent washing over me.
"Oh, I've missed you," she murmured, holding me as if she'd been gone for years rather than two unbearable weeks.
I pulled back just enough to take her in, my hands framing her face, my eyes darting over her features, searching for any sign of injury. My stomach knotted at the gauze wrapped around her waist, but otherwise, she seemed unharmed.
"I thought you got out safe?" I whispered.
She smirked. "Forgot some things."
There was something reckless in her eyes, something sharp and unyielding.
My stomach tightened further. "Mor—"
"I'm getting you out of here."
Her grin was edged with mischief, with certainty.
—
I had heard the rumors—the hushed whispers exchanged between patrons in dimly lit taverns, drunken murmurs of a secret city our High Lord kept hidden from the rest of us. A place untouched by the cruelty of the Hewn City, a myth spun to keep fools hopeful.
I never believed a word of it.
But Velaris was real.
"The City of Starlight," Morrigan had said, her voice breathless with something I hadn't seen in her since we were reckless, ignorant children. She'd smiled then—wild, unguarded. And I had known, in that moment, that every whispered legend had been true.
The city thrived even in the late hour. Laughter and music curled through the streets, golden lights casting soft glows against dark stone. I had never dreamed a place like this could exist, not outside of bedtime stories and half-formed wishes. And yet, Mor guided me through its winding paths as if it were the most natural thing in the world, showing me pieces of the Night Court I had never dared to imagine.
Until, finally, she led me to a small cabin at the edge of a quiet clearing.
Warm light spilled from its windows, shadows dancing against the wood as the hum of conversation and bursts of laughter leaked into the night. It was a thrilling sound—carefree, safe.
Mor stepped onto the porch, her fingers curling around my wrist as she turned back to me with a smirk. "I've been living here for the past few weeks," she hummed, as if it were no great thing. "And I decided I missed my roommate."
Her words barely registered over the clatter of voices inside. I could hear the easy teasing, the playful shouts.
I hesitated.
"It's Rhysand's cabin, but—"
"The High Lord's?" I whirled on her, my stomach clenching.
Mor blinked, as if I'd said something absurd. "He's my cousin, you know?"
I did know that. Of course I did. But the knowledge didn't stop the shiver that traced my spine.
I had seen Rhysand twice in my life—twice was enough.
Both times, I had been convinced I would die right there on the spot, crushed beneath the weight of his power. It exuded from him like a second set of wings, dark and monstrous. The ground itself seemed to quake beneath his steps. To say he was powerful was an insult to the very meaning of the word. He was terror incarnate, the nightmare that lived in the dark corners of every court.
I had heard the stories—of him reaching into minds and shattering them from the inside out, twisting their own fears into weapons sharper than any blade. He did not need to lift a hand to kill.
My throat went dry. "He's not in there, is he?"
The words were barely a whisper, but Mor only shrugged, far too casual. "Sure he is."
I nearly choked. What?
"Mor—"
She didn't give me a chance to protest.
Her fingers curled around mine, firm and unwavering, and before I could think to dig in my heels, she had pulled me forward—up the steps, through the doorway, past the foyer—until I was standing in the heart of the house.
The moment we entered, the conversation stopped.
Four sets of eyes locked onto me.
Hazel. Silver.
And then—
A violet gaze, piercing and unrelenting, dilated with something unreadable.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
Rhysand.
The High Lord of Night. The male who could level entire armies with a flick of his wrist, who could peel apart minds like flower petals and leave nothing behind. The nightmare whispered about in every corner of the Hewn City.
And he was staring at me.
His lips parted slightly, as if words had caught in his throat.
Mor, of course, was entirely unaffected. "Gentlemen," she said, grinning as she strode deeper into the sitting room. "And Amren."
The silver-eyed female merely flicked a gaze over Mor before cutting straight to me, a sharp, assessing glance that made my stomach twist.
I was still trying to school my expression into something other than imminent death panic when Mor gave my wrist a final squeeze and released me.
"I'd like you all to meet—"
"She's my mate."
Silence.
Utter, perfect silence.
Then—
A choked sound came from the male lounging in an armchair, wings draped lazily over its sides. He had dark hair, hazel eyes gleaming with delight, and an unmistakable aura of shit-eating amusement. That one must be Cassian.
Next to him, another male, shadows curled at his feet like living things, merely blinked—slowly, deliberately—before glancing at Rhys and murmuring, "That was subtle." And there's Azriel.
Rhys, for all his legendary cunning, looked like he wanted to launch himself into the Sidra.
"Mate?" I rasped, my stomach flipping over itself.
No. No, surely not. That was—impossible. I would've felt something.
Or have I all along?
"You must forgive our dear High Lord," Amren drawled, sipping from a glass of something dark. "He usually has more tact when announcing these things."
Rhys finally seemed to snap back into his body, straightening his spine with something like composed horror.
"What I meant to say," he amended, his voice dropping into something far smoother, far silkier—too smooth as if he were compensating, "is that it's a pleasure to meet you."
Cassian snorted. "You just said she was your mate."
"Yes, thank you, Cassian."
Azriel's lips twitched. "I think she got the message."
My head was spinning, my throat tight. But my body had stilled—not from fear, exactly, but from something else. Something coiling in my chest, something aware.
Rhys's gaze flicked to mine, and his expression softened instantly, all humor melting into something devastatingly gentle.
"It's late. You must be exhausted." His voice had dipped, his usual charm tempered with something achingly sincere. "Let me get you something to eat. Or drink. Or—are you warm enough? I can get you a blanket—"
Cassian was shaking with silent laughter. Azriel merely watched, like he was filing this away for later use.
Amren, however, had no such patience. "Oh, for Cauldron's sake," she muttered, rolling her eyes. "She's not a wounded animal, Rhysand, stop circling her like a mother hen."
"I just want her to be comfortable," he argued, flashing her a glare before turning back to me with something so devastatingly earnest that I nearly forgot who he was. What he was.
He liked me.
No—he wanted me to like him.
Rhysand, the most powerful High Lord in history, was tripping over himself to win my favor.
And somehow, that was more terrifying than any of the rumors I'd ever heard.
—
I wasn't entirely sure how I ended up sitting on a plush couch in the middle of the High Lord's cabin, wrapped in a ridiculously soft blanket that I didn't remember agreeing to. A cup of tea—also not requested—was placed carefully in my hands, steam curling in the dim candlelight.
Rhysand hovered nearby.
And I meant hovered.
He was standing at an awkward, not-quite-close, not-quite-far distance, shifting slightly as if debating whether he should sit or stand or vanish into the floor. His normally easy, fluid grace had been utterly abandoned, leaving him looking... well. Uncertain.
Cassian, sprawled in the armchair across from me, was barely keeping it together. His wings twitched every few seconds, his lips pressed tightly as if physically holding in his laughter.
Azriel, seated beside him, was far more composed—but the slight upward tilt of his mouth betrayed his amusement.
I took a sip of my tea, trying to make sense of all this.
The High Lord of the Night Court—the terror of the Hewn City, the most powerful male in existence—had declared me his mate. And then proceeded to fall apart before my very eyes.
I was still trying to process it when Rhys spoke.
"Would you like more pillows?"
I blinked. "What?"
His violet eyes were very, very wide. "You look like you could use more pillows."
Cassian made a strangled noise.
Azriel coughed into his fist.
"I—I'm fine," I said slowly, watching as Rhys's shoulders sagged in relief.
Too fast. All of this was happening too fast, I couldn't keep up.
"Are you sure? Because I can get more."
Cassian let out a wheezing breath, eyes shining with unrestrained delight. "Yes, Rhys. More pillows. That's definitely what she needs."
Rhys shot him a withering glare before turning back to me, smoothing his expression into something intended to be charming, but coming across as deeply, deeply desperate.
"Or food!" he blurted. "Have you eaten? I can make you something. Or, well, I can't make you something, but I can get someone to—"
"She has tea, Rhys," Amren cut in dryly. "You shoved it into her hands two minutes ago."
"I did not shove—"
"You definitely shoved," Cassian confirmed, barely containing his cackle. "I thought you were going to spill boiling tea all over your mate."
I flinch slightly at the term as Rhys shoots back with, "I was being thoughtful."
Azriel hummed, taking a slow sip of his own drink, the amber color telling me it was something much stronger than tea. "Is that what we're calling it?"
I had absolutely no idea what to do with any of this.
Rhysand—the charmer, the schemer, the legend—was unraveling at the seams in front of me.
Because of me.
"I can make my own food," I finally said, mostly just to say something.
Rhys visibly straightened. "Of course! Yes, I knew that. I just—" He ran a hand through his hair, his usual ease nowhere to be found. "I want you to feel at home."
Cassian grinned. "I think she'd feel more at home if you stopped looming over her like a lovesick bat."
Rhys's glare could have melted stone.
Azriel just leaned back in his chair, shadows curling lazily around his shoulders. "I don't think I've ever seen you like this," he mused.
Rhys turned his attention back to me, clearly trying to regain some dignity. He attempted one of his infamous smirks. "You must forgive them. They're not used to seeing me flustered."
Cassian clapped a hand to his chest, eyes sparkling. "Oh, it's a gift, truly."
Azriel nodded solemnly. "We should savor this moment."
Rhys looked seconds away from throttling them both.
I just stared at him, still gripping the cup of tea like it was the only solid thing in the world. "Are you okay?" I asked before I could stop myself.
His breath caught.
And for a moment, the amusement, the chaos—it all faded. His eyes softened, something raw flickering behind them.
"I'm fine," he said, voice lower now, steadier. "I just... I wasn't expecting this."
Neither was I. But still, something shifted in my chest at the way he looked at me—like I was something precious.
I wasn't ready to name that feeling.
But for the first time since I'd arrived, I didn't feel like running.
Slowly—mercifully—Rhys seemed to remember how to function again.
He settled into the chair across from me, still watching me with those impossibly violet eyes, but at least he wasn't hovering like I might vanish if he so much as blinked.
Not that he'd relaxed entirely.
No, because the moment I so much as shifted—adjusting the blanket, setting my tea down—he twitched as if preparing to leap to his feet and fix something.
If I asked for anything, I had no doubt he'd be up and fetching it before I could even finish the sentence.
But at least he was sitting.
Amren, on the other hand, was done with the entire situation.
With a long-suffering sigh, she stood and stretched. "Alright. That's enough of this."
Cassian perked up. "Of what?"
She shot him a withering look. "The two of you sitting here, watching this disaster unfold like it's a theatrical event."
Cassian grinned, utterly unrepentant. "Oh, but it is."
Azriel just sipped his whiskey, but the small smirk on his lips said everything.
Amren turned her glare to them both, then pointed at the door. "Out."
Cassian gaped. "But—"
"Out," she repeated, already making her way toward him.
Cassian barely had time to dodge before she grabbed his arm, yanking him up with surprising strength for someone so small. "Azriel, move," she barked.
Azriel, for all his shadows and lethal grace, barely managed to stifle a chuckle before obeying.
Rhys, looking very much like a male clinging to the last shred of his dignity, just sighed. "Amren, I hardly think—"
"Oh, please." She shot him a knowing look. "You want them gone."
Rhys opened his mouth. Closed it. Then glanced—too quickly—at me.
Cassian cackled. "Oh, this is so good."
"I hate all of you," Rhys muttered.
Cassian just grinned, throwing an arm over Azriel's shoulder as Amren shoved them both toward the door. "Love you too, brother!"
The door shut behind them then silence settled.
I exhaled slowly, my mind still spinning from all of this—this place, these people, Rhysand, sitting before me and looking as though he didn't quite know what to do with himself.
Mor, still seated beside me, gave a soft, reassuring smile. "Ignore them," she said. "They're menaces, but they mean well."
I nodded, unsure what to say.
She nudged me gently. "You doing okay?"
I hesitated.
Then, quietly, "I think so."
Mor's smile warmed. "Good." She stood, stretching. "I'm just down the hall if you need anything, okay?"
I nodded again. "Thanks, Mor."
She winked. "Get some rest."
And then, just like that, I was alone. With Rhysand.
Who, despite his best attempts to seem relaxed, looked about two seconds away from combusting.
The silence stretched for a beat too long before Rhys cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. "So," he started, voice smoother now, steadier, "what do you think of Velaris?"
I exhaled, my grip loosening on the blanket around my shoulders as I glanced toward the window. The city lights still twinkled beyond the glass, mirroring the stars above.
"It's..." I searched for the right word. Magnificent."
His lips curved. "It is." He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. "Not what you expected?"
A soft huff of breath left me. "In all honesty, I didn't even expect it to be real."
Rhys chuckled, low and warm. "Most don't."
I looked back at him. "How long has it been hidden?"
His expression turned thoughtful. "Since the war." His gaze flickered to the window, a distant look in his eyes. "My family—my court—has fought to protect it for centuries. It's the one place in all of Prythian untouched by war, by cruelty." He met my gaze again, and this time, there was something softer there. "Now it's yours, too."
Something shifted in my chest at that. The way he said it like I belonged here. I swallowed. "And the court?"
His smile returned, easy and knowing. "You've already met the worst of them."
I let out a small laugh, shaking my head. "I don't believe that."
"Oh, you should." He smirked. "Cassian and Azriel? Winged buffoons. Mor? Chaos incarnate." He placed a hand on his chest, feigning solemnity. "And me? Well, the stories you've heard don't paint me in the best light, do they?"
A teasing edge now, that sharp, clever humor creeping into his voice.
I tilted my head. "No, they don't."
He grinned, but it softened as he glanced back outside. "You'll see for yourself, though." He hesitated, then added, "You'll be here for Starfall."
"Starfall?"
His eyes lit up, and suddenly, it was as if the shadows in the room no longer existed.
"You've never heard of it?"
I shook my head.
Rhys leaned closer, his voice dropping to something conspiratorial, enticing. "Once a year, the sky does something extraordinary."
I raised a brow, peering out the large arched window to look at the galaxy of stars just outside. "More extraordinary than usual?"
A chuckle. "Much more." He sat back again, watching me with a quiet sort of delight, as if he already knew I'd love it. "The stars don't just shine that night. They fall."
I blinked. "They fall?"
"Mmm." He traced a circle on the arm of his chair. "Not like shooting stars—though it looks similar. The souls of long-lost beings drift across the sky, shimmering trails left in their wake. It's..." He trailed off, searching for the word.
"Magnificent?" I supplied, unable to help the small smile tugging at my lips.
Rhys gave a slow, approving nod. "Very."
Something warm settled in my chest. For a moment, neither of us spoke.
And then, finally, I allowed myself to really look at him.
Not the High Lord. Not the nightmare. Just Rhysand.
And gods, he was handsome.
The kind of handsome that made the room feel smaller, the air feel warmer. Sharp cheekbones, a strong jaw, those impossibly violet eyes that seemed to catch every flicker of candlelight. And the way he looked at me—like I was something precious. Like he already knew me, in some deep, unspoken way.
I cleared my throat, shoving away the thought. "It sounds magical."
He grinned, and for the first time, it wasn't the grin of a High Lord, or a male who held the power of nightmares in his hands.
It was just a smile. For me.
A slight yawn slipped from me, Rhys was instantly moving.
"Mother above, I've kept you up too late—" He was already leading me toward the hall, his steps brisk, his hands half-lifted as if he wanted to guide me but thought better of it.
I barely had time to keep up as he strode toward a door across from Mor's, gesturing to it like it was some grand reveal. "This is yours—of course, if you don't like it, we can find you another room, or a different house entirely, or—"
"Rhys—"
"I really should have let you rest earlier, I can be insufferable when I ramble, and—"
"Rhys."
"I hope you find everything comfortable, but if you need anything—extra pillows, a softer mattress, a different view—"
I pressed my palm to his chest. He froze.
His breath hitched, just barely—but I felt it beneath my hand, the sharp inhale, the slight stutter of his heartbeat.
His eyes locked onto mine, the violet darkening, blazing.
I had only meant to stop his spiraling apologies, but now... Now the air between us was thick with tension.
Something unseen curled and tightened, coiling like a living thing beneath my skin.
Rhys exhaled sharply through his nose. Slowly—reverently—his hand lifted, covering mine where it lay over his chest. His fingers curled just enough to hold me there, as if... as if he couldn't bear to let go.
Something between us shifted and I didn't have time to decide if it was for the better or not.
A pull, deep in my ribs. An ache that hadn't been there before.
Rhys went completely still.
Like he was waging some great internal war, fighting against a force that neither of us had yet spoken aloud. But I felt it.
The way his fingers tightened just slightly over mine. The way his lips parted like he was about to say something, only to think better of it.
The way his eyes—those star-flecked, devastatingly beautiful eyes—searched mine like they held the answer to something he'd been waiting for.
I should have stepped back.
I should have moved.
Instead, I stood there, heart pounding, fingers twitching against the soft fabric of his tunic.
Rhys swallowed, his throat working around the motion, but he said nothing. Did nothing. Just stood there, his chest rising and falling beneath my palm, his fingers flexing ever so slightly over mine like he was grounding himself—like he needed to hold on. I knew I should step back.
We had only just met.
Yet that fact seemed irrelevant, insignificant compared to the weight of the moment curling between us, thick as smoke.
Because I could feel it—something pulling me toward him, that bond deeper than attraction, sharper than longing. It was in the way his breath came uneven, in the way his gaze dropped, just briefly, to my lips before snapping back up to my eyes, a flicker of something raw, something wanting, breaking through his carefully placed walls.
His lips parted, like he might say something. Like he might stop this before it went too far.
I didn't let him. Didn't give myself the chance to second-guess, to think, to reason.
I surged forward.
Rhys barely had time to exhale before my lips met his. Soft. That was my first thought—how soft his lips were, warm and parting against mine as if in stunned surrender.
And then he was kissing me back.
A sharp inhale, his hand sliding up my wrist, curling around it like he couldn't quite believe this was happening—but wouldn't dare let go, either.
His other hand found my waist, light, hesitant, his fingers pressing in just enough to ground me, to anchor us both in the storm of whatever this was.
It wasn't desperate. It wasn't hurried. It was slow, tentative, a gentle exploration.
His nose brushed mine as he tilted his head, his lips parting wider, and I felt the way he breathed me in—like I was something to be savored, something he hadn't known he was starving for until now.
A small sound left me—something between a sigh and a whimper—and Rhys shuddered, his grip tightening ever so slightly, his fingertips pressing into my skin like he needed to remind himself this was real.
We lingered there, caught in something we didn't have a name for, something neither of us had expected but couldn't seem to pull away from.
His thumb brushed along my wrist, slow, reverent, as our lips moved together in a rhythm that felt achingly natural.
Like we had done this a thousand times before. Like we would do it a thousand times more.
When we finally parted, it was only enough to breathe, our foreheads pressing together, breaths mingling.
Rhys's fingers flexed at my waist.
"I—" His voice was hoarse, rough with something unspoken. He swallowed. "We should stop."
I exhaled shakily, my hands still fisting the fabric of his tunic.
"We should," I admitted.
His thumb traced slow, lazy circles along my wrist, like he was memorizing the shape of me, the feel of me.
And then, softer—softer than I'd ever heard anyone speak my name—
"But I don't want to."
I barely had time to whisper, "Neither do I," before he kissed me again.
His lips were still on mine, still moving, still taking, even as he rasped against my mouth, "We can't."
But he didn't stop. Didn't pull away.
If anything, his hands tightened at my waist, fingers pressing into my skin like he was anchoring himself—like he was fighting a losing battle against whatever force was unraveling between us.
I gasped as his tongue slid against mine, slow and thorough, like he was trying to memorize me, like he was desperate to learn every piece of me with nothing more than his lips, his hands, his breath.
"Rhys," I whispered, not knowing if it was meant to be a plea or a warning.
He groaned, his forehead pressing against mine, his breath coming out in short, uneven pants.
"I want to know you," he said, his voice so raw, so gutted that it sent a shiver down my spine.
Then his lips were on mine again, harder, deeper, like he was proving it, like he needed me to believe him.
"I want to know everything," he murmured against my mouth, between kisses that left me gasping, left me trembling, my fingers still tangled in his hair. Another kiss, this one rougher, hungrier. "Everything."
I whimpered against his lips, barely able to think, barely able to breathe with the way he was consuming me, the way his words were carving themselves into my ribs.
He groaned, like the sound was being ripped from him. "I—" He shuddered. "Tell me to stop."
I froze beneath him, blinking up at him, my head spinning, my lips swollen from his kisses.
He swallowed hard, his breathing uneven, his hands flexing at my sides.
"Tell me to stop," he repeated, voice ragged, "because I don't think I can on my own."
His words hung between us, raw and trembling, his breath fanning against my lips. I could still taste him, still feel the imprint of his hands at my sides, as if he had branded himself into my very skin. My heart pounded against my ribs, my body warring between the pull of the bond and the sliver of hesitation curling in my chest.
I slipped my hands from his hair, brushing my fingers along his jaw, feeling the tension coiled beneath his skin. "Rhys," I whispered, my voice barely a breath.
His eyes, dark and blazing with emotion, searched mine. I saw the restraint there, the war he was fighting within himself, the way his hands trembled against my sides.
I swallowed, forcing myself to find the words through the haze of want clouding my mind. "I'll accept the bond," I murmured. His breath hitched, his entire body going utterly still. "I just need some time."
A heartbeat passed. Then another. And then—he exhaled, his forehead pressing against mine, his entire frame shuddering. His hands skimmed up my sides, gentle now, reverent, like he was memorizing every inch of me before letting go.
"You could take centuries," he murmured, his lips brushing against my temple, featherlight. "Beyond that, if you wanted. I'd wait for you, always."
Something in my chest ached, something too big to name. I closed my eyes, breathing him in, the warmth of him, the endless patience laced in every word.
I tilted my head up, pressing the softest of kisses against his lips—nothing like the desperate, fevered ones from before. Just a promise. Just a thank you.
His hands lingered on my waist, like he wasn't quite ready to let go, but he didn't stop me as I pulled away. A small smile tugged at my lips. "Goodnight, Rhys."
His eyes softened, something almost wistful in them. "Goodnight, my love."
With a final glance, I turned and slipped into my room, closing the door behind me. And even then, I could still feel him—like a shadow, like a promise—waiting.
Comment or reblog with a “💙” to be added to the general taglist!
summary: it's absolutely impossible to resist the magic that is rhysand's face, even when you're angry with him.
wc: 1.3k+
The morning light filtering through the House of Wind's windows had absolutely nothing to do with your mood, which remained, despite the sun's best efforts, stormy.
Rhysand had done something unforgivable the night before. He'd promised (with that solemn hand-over-heart nonsense he knew always made you laugh) that he'd be home in time for the dinner you'd spent all afternoon planning. A ridiculous wager about who could actually cook a decent meal without cheating and using magic to speed things along. You'd marinated, you'd chopped, you'd burned your knuckle on the pan and refused to heal it just so you could hold the injury over him dramatically at dinner.
And then he simply hadn't come home.
Some court business with Keir had swallowed him whole, four hours past when he'd said he'd be back, and by the time he finally winnowed into the dining room, you'd already eaten alone.
You'd gone to bed and pretended to be asleep when he slid in beside you murmuring apologies into your hair, one hand splayed warm over your stomach like he could apologize his way through your skin if words wouldn't do it.
You were not currently speaking to him.
This was, you'd decided somewhere around three in the morning while glaring at the ceiling, a matter of principle. It wasn't about the dinner…not really. It was about the look on his face when he'd finally arrived, like he expected you to simply forgive him on the spot because he was Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court, devastatingly handsome and devastatingly aware of it. Well. Not today.
You descended the stairs into the main room with your chin high and your resolve firmly buckled into place, sailing past where Cassian and Rhys sat hunched over a spread of papers.
"Morning, Cass," you chirped, leaning down to press a bright, affectionate kiss to his cheek.
Cassian blinked, clearly thrown by the sudden enthusiasm. "Uh—morning?"
"Good morning, darling," Rhys said, looking up with an easy, hopeful smile.
You hummed and glided straight past him toward the kitchen with the singular purpose of a woman who had a cup of tea to make and absolutely no High Lords to acknowledge in the process.
Behind you, the silence stretched. One second. Two.
Then Cassian's low, delighted snort, badly disguised as a cough. "Oh. Oh, that's bad."
"Shut up."
"No, no, take your time, genuinely, this might be the single greatest thing I've witnessed all week—"
"I said shut up, Cassian."
You allowed yourself a small smirk as you reached the kitchen, already reaching for the kettle, already congratulating yourself on your flawless execution of Operation Ignore Rhysand Into Submission.
You heard the scrape of a chair, papers rustling with far less diplomatic care than they probably deserved, and then the unmistakable, rapid cadence of footsteps closing the distance behind you at a speed that was unfair.
You picked up your pace, aiming for the far counter like it was a finish line in some race you hadn't agreed to enter.
You did not make it. Obviously. He had wings and several centuries of reflexes and you had a nightgown and injured pride.
An arm banded around your waist, spinning you with a dizzying ease that made your stomach swoop despite your best efforts, and then your back met the edge of the kitchen counter, Rhysand's body caging you in on either side with his forearms braced against the counter, close enough that you could smell that maddening scent of his.
You squirmed. Half-heartedly. In the specific way that technically qualified as resistance on paper but wouldn't have dislodged a mildly determined kitten, let alone a male who had absolutely zero intention of letting you go anywhere.
This is, annoyingly, your favorite place in the entire world.
Still, you fixed your gaze pointedly on the small, fascinating patch of wall just past his left ear.
Rhysand groaned. "Darling."
You said nothing. The wall was really quite an interesting shade of gray.
"You're doing the thing," he said, "where you look at literally anything except me. I invented that move. You cannot use it against its creator."
Still nothing. Riveting wall. Truly.
His hand came up, catching your chin with a gentleness that was almost more infuriating than if he'd been rough about it, tilting your face up until you had nowhere left to look but directly into those wounded violet eyes.
"Please talk to me," he murmured, thumb brushing along your jaw. "I'm sorry."
You jerked your chin sideways out of his grip with as much dignity as you could muster, reinstating your glare at a slightly more aggressive angle.
He simply followed, tugging your face back to his with unbothered patience.
"Stop it!" you burst out, voice cracking with something caught halfway between fury and helpless laughter. "I can't be mad at you when I have to look at you! That's not fair, that's basically cheating, you know what your face does to me—"
Something amused flickered across his features, entirely too pleased with himself for someone who was technically still in trouble. His head tilted slightly, dark hair falling across his forehead, and he had the audacity to look smug about it. "Then stop being mad at me, you stubborn monster."
"I don't want to!" The words came out wobbly, more frustrated than you intended, and to your absolute horror you felt your eyes go hot and prickling at the edges. Not sad, just overflowing with the sheer indignity of being furious and thoroughly charmed in the very same breath.
Rhysand's expression melted instantly, all traces of smugness gone, replaced by something so soft and worried it was borderline unfair on top of everything else. "What's wrong now, my love?"
"I'm mad at you," you said thickly, glaring through the threatening tears with everything you had, "for making me mad at you. Which means it's still your fault, so don't look at me like that."
He pressed his lips together, valiantly fighting back a smile and losing rather badly. "Okay. Noted. How do I fix it?"
"I don't know!" You shoved uselessly at his chest, which accomplished nothing except reminding you exactly how solid he was, which was, again, deeply unhelpful to your cause. "Apologize properly, you overgrown bat. Grovel a little. I want groveling."
He brought both hands up to frame your face fully now, thumbs brushing gentle, reverent strokes at your cheekbones, all traces of teasing finally gone soft and sincere, that particular quiet voice he only used for you and no one else in any court. "I'm sorry I made you be mad at me. I should have known better than to behave so despicably. You're perfect, and you're never wrong, even when you're glaring at me like I've personally offended your entire bloodline. And I love you."
You glared up at him, eyes still glassy, jaw stubbornly set, fighting the traitorous twitch pulling at the corner of your mouth. A long beat passed, tense and ridiculous and entirely too fond.
"Fine," you finally grunted, like the word cost you something precious. "You're forgiven. But I'm still telling everyone I won the cooking bet."
"You didn't even finish the bet—"
"You are so—"
He didn't wait a heartbeat longer, hauling you flush against him and kissing you deeply, thoroughly, one hand sliding into your hair while the other pressed warm against the small of your back like he was trying to physically communicate every apology he hadn't managed with words. You melted into it despite yourself, despite the whole morning, despite Cassian's very audible presence somewhere behind you, and Rhysand laughed low into the kiss, delighted and relieved in equal measure.
"You ridiculous woman," he murmured against your lips, "conceding a war over one bowl of cold soup."
"It was excellent soup," you muttered back, "and you missed it."
"I did." He kissed you again, softer. "Never again."
From the doorway, Cassian's voice rang out, thoroughly unbothered by decency. "You two are disgusting, and also I'm telling Mor she owes me money. She bet you'd hold out until lunch."
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.
