Summary: When Reader and Lorcan have to share a tent and can’t find sleep, they find other ways to exhaust themselves.
Warnings: Minors dni | 18+ only | Controlled orgasm I P in V I semi-public (in a tent) | size kink | Hair pulling | praise I clit play | cream pie I fluff at the end
A. Note: I’m so sorry this is late, it didn’t post when I scheduled it for some reason 😭😭, anywho, this is made specifically for the lovely @lexluvswriting because I’m simply here to feed her Lorcan obsession 🫶
6.9k words.
"You know, for being Maeve's pride and joys you'd think we'd be given better accommodations," I say as I lay out my bedroll, the tent Her Majesty supplied us with so small it was almost comical.
"We're warriors, not royalty," Lorcan grumbled from the outside of the canvas, giving me some privacy as I stripped from my leathers and into a nightgown.
"Speak for yourself," I scoffed, poking my head out of the flaps to look up at him. "Rowan is a prince," I say matter-of-factly. "Perhaps he could pull some strings and get us all our own tent," I suggest and he looks at me with that sneering expression he always wore.
"We've battled in wars, I think you can manage," He grumbled, motioning with his hand for me to recede back into the tent. I frowned but backed up and sidled onto my bedroll. I tried not to laugh at the sight of the seven-foot demi-fae crouching to stop his head from hitting the ceiling of the tent.
He gave me a glare that I assume was meant to intimidate me but it didn't affect me much when he had to walk on his knees in order to settle on his own bedroll.
All seven of Maeve's blood sworn were called to meet with her in Doranelle, something about the Lost Princess of Terrasan— I wasn't really listening when Rowan was briefing us, all I knew was that I was going to have to pack my life up for the crazed queen I was sworn to, again, and take the week hike away from my comfy home in Varese.
With only three tents, the seven of us were split into pairs. Two per tent, and one on watch outside. Gavriel had posed a system to put the smallest and the largest together, as to avoid uncomfortably in the tents— and I hadn't thought it would be a problem until now. Shoulder to shoulder, with my least favorite of the group.
"Why do you have to be built like a damned giant," I grumble as I shift away from him, the side of me pressing into the wall of the tent. I could've shifted onto my side and separated us a little further— but that would mean I'd have to face him, and at this proximity, I doubt it would be comfortable for either of us.
"Would you rather join Rowan and Fenrys?" Lorcan grumbles, sounding like he was talking in my ear he was so close. I smirk at the idea.
"Can't say I'd be displeased in the middle of that," I purr.
Lorcan sighs, muttering a string of curses, too low to make out. "You're insufferable." He decided on voicing.
"And yet, here we are, stuck with each other," I teased, glancing at him from the corner of my eye. "Don't pretend you don't love it."
He snorts. "I could think of better ways to spend my time."
"Oh?" I hum, turning toward him a little more, my cheek propped on my hand. "What would Lorcan Salvaterre rather be doing right now, instead of sharing a tent with yours truly?"
He shoots me a look, dark and brooding, but his lips twitch. "Not listening to you, for starters."
I roll my eyes. "If you weren't so quiet all the time, maybe I wouldn't have to fill the silence."
"There's silence because I'm trying to sleep," he retorts, though his tone is lighter, almost playful—at least, as playful as Lorcan ever gets.
I scoff, grinning. "Please, you never sleep. You just brood all night like some menacing statue."
"You should be grateful," he says, adjusting his position, his shoulder now brushing against mine. "At least I keep the monsters away."
"Monsters?" I snort. "The only thing I'm afraid of in this tent is your enormous leg crushing me in my sleep."
"You talk too much," Lorcan grumbles, though there's the faintest glimmer of amusement in his eyes.
"I talk just enough to drive you insane," I shoot back, feeling a strange sense of victory at the idea of getting under his skin. "It's one of my many talents," I add, worsening the blow.
He doesn't respond, but his silence feels different this time. Like he's deciding whether to engage or just strangle me.
"If you're so miserable," I start, stifling a yawn, "you ought to throw me outside and have the whole tent to yourself," I utter, lifting my arms up over my head and stretching out to the best of my abilities.
"Don't tempt me," he grunts, though I don't miss the way his eyes follow me as I stretch, my movements exaggerated just to annoy him.
"You wouldn't know what to do with yourself," I murmur, settling back down. "Without me to keep you company."
"Go to sleep," he says, ignoring my words.
I smirk up at the stars. "Sweet dreams, Salvaterre."
His grumble is the only reply I get, but for some reason, the sound makes me smile.
The silence stretches on for a few minutes, and I do my best to settle in, but there's no ignoring the cramped space and the sheer presence of Lorcan taking up most of it. After a few more minutes of tossing and turning, I sigh dramatically.
"I can't sleep," I announced, knowing he was still wide awake.
From beside me, Lorcan groans, clearly exasperated. "Of course, you can't," he mutters under his breath, dragging a hand down his face.
"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask, rolling onto my side to face him, our faces just inches apart in the dim light.
"That you're incapable of quieting down for more than a minute," he grumbles, not even bothering to open his eyes.
"I've been quiet for at least five minutes!" I argue, though I can't help the grin tugging at my lips. "And anyway, it's your fault. You're hogging all the space."
He cracks an eye open, giving me a flat look. "You take up about as much room as a pillow. You have plenty of space."
"Then why can't I get comfortable?" I huff, shifting again, this time letting my arm bump against his on purpose.
"You're sleeping with the wolves tonight." He says like it’s a promise.
I gasp dramatically, my hand flying to my chest. "Lorcan Salvaterre, you would abandon me to the creatures of the night? Leave me defenseless and cold?"
"You're hardly defenseless," he says, but I catch the hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
I grin, triumphant. "I knew it—you do care."
"Care? I just don't want to explain to Maeve why I let you get eaten by a wyvern," he grumbles, turning onto his side so his back is to me.
I roll my eyes, inching closer just to annoy him. "You'd miss me," I murmur, as if it was an absent thought.
"Like a hole in my head."
I poke him between the shoulder blades. "Liar. You'd be lost without me. Who else would keep you entertained on these long, miserable missions?"
He doesn't respond right away, but I don't miss the way his shoulders tense at my words. "You're assuming I need entertainment."
"You're assuming you don't," I tease, leaning in until my chin is nearly resting on his arm. "Deep down, I know you love it. My sparkling wit, my endless charm—"
He turns so quickly that I almost tumble backward, his face suddenly centimeters from mine. His dark eyes glint with something that makes my heart skip a beat. "You're lucky I don't actually throw you out of this tent."
I blink up at him, trying to ignore the way my pulse races at the proximity. "You'd never."
His eyebrow raises. "You willing to bet?"
I raise mine right back, leaning in just a fraction more.
"I do." There's a brief moment where neither of us moves, the air between us charged with unspoken tension. Then, with a long-suffering sigh, Lorcan rolls his eyes and collapses back onto his bedroll.
"You're impossible," he mutters, covering his face with his arm. "Go to sleep before I do actually throw you out."
I smirk, victory swelling in my chest. "Admit it—you'd be bored out of your mind without me."
"If I admit it, will you shut up?"
"I'll think about it," I hum, settling back into my bedroll, feeling way more pleased with myself than I should.
"Fine," he growls. "I'd be bored."
I can't help the laugh that bubbles up. "See? Was that so hard?"
Lorcan groans again, louder this time. "It was unbearable."
"Goodnight, Lorcan," I say sweetly, curling up and closing my eyes, but I'm still grinning like an idiot.
From beside me, I hear a quiet mutter, almost too soft to catch. "Goodnight."
We lay there in silence for a few minutes, but as usual, my mind refused to settle. The darkness outside the tent feels suffocating, the air thick with anticipation of the mission ahead. I chew my bottom lip, turning over a dozen questions in my head before finally blurting out the one that's been nagging me all night.
"What do you think Maeve wants from us?"
Lorcan's groan is immediate. "You said you'd shut up," he grumbles, not even opening his eyes.
"I said I'd think about it, Salvaterre," I correct, nudging him with my elbow. "Besides, I can't sleep when you keep kicking me."
He huffs out a breath, lifting his arm from his eyes to glare at me. "I haven't moved an inch."
"Oh, really?" I feign innocence, shifting my foot to gently nudge his leg. "What do you call this?"
"That," he says flatly, "is you kicking me."
"I'm just showing you what it feels like," I shoot back, smirking as I prod his shin again.
"Stop that," he growls.
"I will when you answer my question."
"You should be more worried about surviving the week without me strangling you."
I huff, my face burning, but the silence that follows is heavier now—charged with the tension that neither of us wants to acknowledge. After a beat, I clear my throat, breaking it.
"You still didn't answer my question."
He sighs, long and dramatic. "How should I know? Probably some power play involving the Princess."
"Do you think they’ll ally?" I ask, though I know I'm pushing my luck.
He hesitates, his gaze flicking toward the tent's ceiling. "I don’t know," he admits. "Or she might just want us to deal with something different entirely. Maeve doesn't summon all of us for nothing."
I nod, feeling a shiver run through me. "I just hope we don't end up with another war on our hands."
Lorcan shifts slightly, his massive form somehow taking up even more space. "If we do, I'll be sure to shove you out in front to make use of all that 'charm' you keep going on about."
I roll my eyes, kicking him lightly under the blanket. "You're the worst."
He opens one eye to glance at me, unamused. "If I kill you in your sleep, it's your fault."
"Please," I scoff, sitting up slightly. "You couldn't strangle me even if you tried. I'd have you pinned in a heartbeat."
A low, rumbling chuckle escapes him, one that's more amused than I expected. "You? Pin me?"
I raise an eyebrow, refusing to back down. "You'd be surprised."
He tilts his head slightly, considering me with a dark glint in his eyes. "Go on, then. Prove it."
I blink, caught off guard by the challenge. "What, right now?"
He shrugs, the movement sending a ripple through his broad shoulders. "Unless you're too scared."
I narrow my eyes, inching closer. "I'm not scared."
His lips twitch, just barely, but enough to make my heart pound in my chest. "Then do it."
Before I can talk myself out of it, I shift, moving to straddle his waist. "Okay," I say, though my voice sounds much shakier than I intended. "See? You're completely at my mercy now."
Lorcan, infuriatingly, doesn't look remotely concerned. He just stares up at me, one eyebrow raised, as if waiting for something more. "That's it?"
"Well, I—" I start, but he interrupts by effortlessly grabbing my wrists in one of his massive hands and flipping me over before I can even process what's happening.
In the blink of an eye, I'm pinned beneath him, my back pressing into the bedroll as his weight holds me in place. His face hovers inches above mine, dark and unreadable, though I swear there's a flicker of amusement in his gaze.
"I think that's what you were trying to do," he murmurs, his voice low and dangerous, but with a playful edge.
I glare up at him, trying to squirm, but he doesn't budge. "You cheated."
He leans in slightly, his breath brushing against my cheek. "You didn't give me much of a challenge."
"You're such a brute," I snap, though I'm more frustrated with myself for falling right into his trap.
"I can't believe I made Whitethorn train you instead, this is delightful."
"Oh please, you just forgot the feel of a woman beneath you."
"Care to remind me what I've been missing?" His smirk widens, daring me to say more.
"Depends, what do I get in return?"
"A lesson, maybe I'll teach you what it's like to be beneath someone who knows how to be in control."
His words hang in the air between us, and my breath catches, the challenge in his voice igniting something deep within me. I try to maintain my composure, but the way his dark eyes lock onto mine makes it difficult. There's an intensity in his gaze that makes my heart race, a spark of something primal that sends shivers down my spine.
"Is that so?" I reply, my voice teasing yet laced with curiosity. "And just how do you plan to do that?"
"A demonstration," he murmurs, leaning in closer until his breath warms my skin, his lips hovering tantalizingly above mine.
The space between us crackles with tension, my heart pounding in my chest as I hold his gaze, searching for any sign of hesitation. Instead, I find determination mixed with that devil-may-care amusement that is so quintessentially Lorcan. It drives me wild.
"Show me, then," I challenge, emboldened by the heat of the moment.
A slow smile spreads across his face, and before I can brace myself, he captures my wrists in his powerful hands and shifts, pinning them above my head against the soft canvas of the tent. My breath hitches at the sudden thrill of being completely at his mercy, the weight of his body pressing me into the bedroll, a heady mix of vulnerability and exhilaration flooding my senses.
"Do you trust me?" he asks, his voice low, teasing, but there's an undercurrent of seriousness that sends a thrill racing through me.
"Do I have a choice?" I reply, trying to sound defiant but feeling the flush of excitement creeping up my neck.
"Good answer," he says, leaning down, his lips barely brushing against mine, teasingly close yet just out of reach. The warmth of his breath sends tingles across my skin, and I can't resist the urge to lean in, desperate for that connection.
"Stop teasing," I whisper my heart racing, the air thick with unspoken tension. "Just kiss me already."
With a low growl of approval, he closes the distance, capturing my lips with his in a fierce, passionate kiss. It's electric, a jolt that sends sparks dancing along my nerves, igniting every inch of my skin. The kiss deepens, and I lose myself in the taste of him—warm and intoxicating.
His lips move against mine with a hungry urgency, coaxing me into the rhythm of it. I respond instinctively, wrapping my arms around the nape of his neck, pulling him closer, urging him on. The world outside the tent fades away, leaving only the two of us, entangled in the heat of the moment.
I can feel the weight of his body pressing into mine, the way his strength envelops me, sending a rush of desire coursing through my veins. It's overwhelming and intoxicating, igniting a fire within me that I didn't know was there.
I part my legs and he adjusts, slotting between them— gods it was an effort for my legs to even widen enough. He grabbed my thigh in one of his large hands and guided it up higher, then the other, until I was in a mating press beneath him. He smirked against my lips, his hands moving to trail up my sides. "Now you're really at my mercy," He purred and my core thrummed in anticipation.
"Lorcan," I panted into his open mouth, unable to find the words to tell him how badly I needed this.
"As much as I love the sound of you moaning my name, I need you to stay quiet for me, yeah?" He asked and I sucked in a breath, nodding all too quickly, too desperately.
He smirked at the reaction and captured my lips with his yet again, devouring me as he pried my mouth open with his tongue, exploring me with it, not missing a spot uncovered.
I tugged at the waistband of his pants and he captured my wrist before I could tug them down much further. "Not yet, I need to stretch you out first," He warned, his tone brooking no argument.
I let out a soft whimper of protest and he pressed his mouth onto mine, his voice softening as he said, "I don't want to hurt you, be patient for me and I promise I'll make you feel good alright?" He reassured me, his thumb brushing over the pulse point of my wrist before releasing it.
I nod slowly, slipping my hands into his silky black hair while he pushes up my nightgown.
He practically tore through my panties without a second thought, then froze for a moment before making contact. His eyes flicked to mine and I returned his stare with pleasing eyes and a rapid nod. He leaned down, below my lips and to the line of my jaw, making his way down the column of my throat before his calloused fingertips came to contact with my pulsing cunt.
His lips morphed into a malicious smile as he felt just how badly I needed him, the way I was practically dripping down his hand. "So wet, and here I was thinking you hated me?" He drawled against my skin, kissing down my chest and then back up to the hollow of my throat.
I tug at his hair, silently begging him for more. "Lorcan," I whine, words failing me as I arch into his touch, attempting to get even the smallest taste of pleasure. "Please, touch me," I swallow past the lump in my throat.
"I am touching you, love," He whispered, his breath ghosting over the shell of my ear.
My brows furrowed, features contorting with need. "Inside of me, please," I beg. A smirk pulls at his lips and he leans closer, gently pressing his lips to my cheek— too gentle to be casual. But I didn't have time to weigh the action because suddenly he had two fingers pushing inside of my aching cunt, stretching me out.
A gasp escaped me and he swallowed it greedily before connecting our lips again, silencing me.
His long, calloused fingers pumped skillfully into me, grazing against my contracting walls. "Fuck, you're tight," He breathed as I clenched desperately around his hand, gripping his hair but not pulling. His other hand snaked up my propped-up thigh, pinning it down with a possessive need.
His thumb met my clit and it took everything in me not to scream, to cry out his name. "That's it," He encouraged. "Such a good girl, staying quiet for me," He praised, making the tension in my core tighten until it was nearly unbearable.
My overwhelming need for release was all-consuming, every thrust of his fingers, every roll of his thumb sent me reeling. He knew I was close, knew from the way I was trembling beneath him— I knew that he knew, but still, I cried in protest when his hand stilled.
"Not yet," He warned softly, pulling his hand out of me entirely, leaving me empty and aching. I opened my mouth to protest, to beg him to keep going, but he cut me off with a searing kiss, swallowing my complaints with his lips. "I said, be patient," He whispered against my mouth, his tone dark and commanding. "And when you come, it'll be on my cock. Understood?"
I nodded quickly, my breath coming in desperate pants, the tension in my body screaming for release. But I clamped down on my objections, not wanting him to drag this out longer than he already meant to.
His smirk widened, pleased with my compliance, and he finally rid himself of the last of his clothes, his pants hitting the ground with a soft thud. The sight of him—broad and powerful, his skin glistening in the dim light of the tent—made my pulse quicken, and the need to feel him inside me surged with renewed intensity.
He moved to get rid of my clothes too, still bunched at my hips. Luckily he didn't rip it off of me as he did with my panties, instead guided the material over my head, baring me to the brisk night air and his intense gaze.
"Beautiful," He whispered softly, pressing a claiming kiss to the top of one of my breasts. My lip wobbled with a need to moan but I held it down, instead distracted myself with the sight of him.
His shirtless figure was a sight to behold, carved muscle and a chest as hard as marble, but it was what was below his torso that made me pause.
I had expected Lorcan to be big, but gods. I had been with many men in my immortal life, and still, he made me freeze.
His smirk widened as he noticed where my stare was directed. He settled himself between my thighs, his broad frame dwarfing mine. I could feel the heat of him pressing into me, so much of him. My breath hitched, and his dark eyes flicked down, catching the way I bit my lip as he aligned himself at my entrance. His size alone had me trembling, and he knew it—relishing in the subtle way my body tensed beneath him.
He leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. "I almost feel bad," he whispered, "about how much I'm going to stretch you out."
A low whimper escaped me, and I felt his grin against my skin. My fingers curled into his hair, tugging lightly as I drew him closer, desperate for more. His eyes darkened as I pulled harder, and I could feel the tension ripple through his body.
"Be good for me, love, and stay still," he purred, voice a velvety rasp. His hips barely moved, teasing me with the blunt head of his cock as he pushed forward just enough to stretch me—just enough to drive me wild. He pulled back before I could feel the full pressure, a low groan rumbling in his chest as he watched my hips arch off the bedding, chasing him.
"You're so desperate," he murmured, his breath hot against my throat, "so needy." His tone was teasing in a way that would usually enrage me, but the way he said it sent a rush of heat to my core instead, making me clench around nothing, aching for him to fill me.
"Lorcan," I whispered, my voice trembling as I shifted beneath him, trying to ease the ache. He groaned at the sound of his name on my lips, and the tension in his body told me he was holding back, keeping himself in check for my sake.
Slowly, torturously, he guided himself to my entrance, the blunt head of his cock teasing me, stretching me open just enough to make me gasp. My nails dug into his shoulders as he began to push forward, the burn of the stretch sending sparks of pain-laced pleasure through my core.
"Fuck," I breathed, my eyes squeezing shut as he inched deeper. He was so big—bigger than I'd expected—and I had to fight to keep my breaths steady as my body adjusted to the size of him.
Lorcan paused for a moment, letting me catch my breath, his large hand caressing my thigh in slow, soothing strokes. "You're doing so well," he murmured, his voice a low rasp, full of restraint. "Just relax for me."
"Stay still," he breathed, voice rough as he pulled back just enough to make me whine, the emptiness unbearable. "Gods, it's hard to control myself when you keep moving like that."
A shiver ran through me at his words, my core clenching around him as he pressed forward again, slow and deliberate, giving me every thick inch of him until I was stretched impossibly full. My legs trembled as they tried to accommodate his size, and his hands came down to hold them steady, lifting my thighs higher, and spreading me wider beneath him.
"That's it, just like that," he murmured, his voice dropping to a growl as he adjusted his angle, sliding deeper still. "Good girl, taking me so well."
I whimpered at the praise, my fingers tangling in his hair, tugging harder now, desperate to feel him move. His breath hitched, a low moan escaping him as I pulled, and I could feel the way it affected him—how much it pushed him closer to the edge of his restraint.
But Lorcan wasn't one to be rushed.
He withdrew agonizingly slow, leaving me panting beneath him, aching for him to fill me again. "You can handle a little more, can't you?" he teased, his lips curling into a smirk as he saw the need in my eyes. My hands moved from his hair to the nape of his neck, trying to pull him back down to me, urging him on, but he caught my wrists with ease, pinning them above my head with one large hand. The contrast in size was startling—his fingers easily wrapping around both of my wrists, holding me completely at his mercy.
He leaned down, his lips barely brushing mine as he whispered, "Stay still, or I'll make you wait longer."
A soft whimper escaped me, and he chuckled darkly, pleased with my compliance. Slowly, he started to move again, his thrusts deep and deliberate, each one drawing out the delicious stretch, making me gasp as he filled me completely, finally bottoming out as his hips pressed into mine.
My body trembled beneath him, the intensity of it building with every slow, torturous thrust. I could feel the thick slide of him inside me, the way my walls clenched around his cock, desperate to hold him, to keep him deep inside. But Lorcan kept up the slow pace, each thrust deeper than the last, drawing me out, making me feel every inch of him.
"Fuck, so tight," he murmured, his voice low and rough, filled with desire. His free hand slid down my side, gripping my waist as he pulled me closer, his hips rolling into me with a new intensity that made me see stars.
"Lorcan," I mewled, writhing beneath him, bucking my hips up to meet his
He let out a low growl as I continued to disobey his order to stay still. "If you keep doing that," he warned, his voice thick with strain, "I'm not going to be able to stop myself."
"Then don't," I breathed, my voice trembling as I arched into him, wanting—needing—more.
His eyes darkened, and before I could say anything else, he was moving again, faster now, his thrusts more intense, each one hitting deeper, making me cry out in pleasure. He swallowed my moans with his mouth, devouring me with a kiss so fierce it left me breathless.
Lorcan's hand, the one not gripping my wrists, slipped between us, his thumb brushing over my clit with just enough pressure to make me gasp, my body jerking beneath him. "Stay quiet," he reminded me, his voice a low growl as his thumb circled slowly, teasingly. "We wouldn't want anyone to hear, would we?"
I shook my head frantically, biting down on my lip to keep from crying out as his pace quickened, the tension inside me building unbearably with every push and pull of his powerful hips, every circle of his thumb on my sensitive clit. I was so close, so on edge, but I knew he wasn't going to let me go just yet. He wanted to drag it out, to make me feel every second of it.
His lips ghosted over my ear as he whispered, "I love how small you feel beneath me—how perfectly you fit around my cock."
His words sent a shiver down my spine, making my walls tighten around him in response. I could feel the heat of his body pressing into mine, the steady rhythm of his thrusts making me dizzy with desire. The way he filled me, stretched me, it was almost too much—almost, but not enough.
I wanted more. I needed more.
He pulled back just enough to smirk down at me, his eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction. "Gods, you're so fucking tight," he growled, his voice low and guttural as he picked up the pace, thrusting into me harder, deeper. My body arched beneath him, instinctively chasing the pleasure only he could give me.
His hand, still holding my wrists above my head, tightened its grip, his other sliding down my body to grab hold of my waist, pulling me against him with each thrust. The intensity was overwhelming, but I craved every second of it. His thumb returned to my clit, circling it with maddening precision, making my toes curl and my breath catches in my throat.
I bit down on my lip, desperate to keep quiet as he'd commanded, but it was nearly impossible with the way he was driving me to the brink, over and over again. I could feel the pressure building in my core, a white-hot ball of tension that threatened to unravel me at any moment.
"You close baby?" Lorcan rasped, his voice rough as he ground his hips into mine, each thrust hitting deeper than the last. His thumb pressed harder on my clit, the friction sending shockwaves through my body.
I nodded frantically, unable to form coherent words, my head spinning with the need for release.
"Beg for it," he commanded, his breath hot against my ear as he continued his relentless pace, driving me wild. "Beg me to let you come."
I whimpered, my body trembling beneath him as I struggled to find the words. "Please, Lorcan," I whispered, my voice shaking as I arched up against him, desperate for more. "Please, please I can't hold it— I need it, Lor."
He groaned at my words, his thrusts becoming harder, more erratic, his control slipping. "Good girl," he growled, his voice thick with desire. "Go ahead, come on my cock."
With those words, the tension inside me snapped. My entire body clenched around him, my back arching off the bed as I came undone, the wave of pleasure crashing over me so violently I saw stars. I bit down on my lip, stifling the scream that threatened to escape as my orgasm tore through me, every nerve in my body alight with sensation.
Lorcan let out a low, guttural groan as he felt me clench around him, his pace faltering as he chased his own release. His hips snapped into mine one last time, burying himself deep inside me as he came with a low growl, his body trembling with the force of it.
For a long, breathless second, neither of us moved, the sounds of our ragged breathing the only thing filling the air. But as the intensity slowly ebbed, Lorcan pulled back, his smirk already returning to his lips. He let out a satisfied hum as he leaned down to press a lazy kiss to my jaw. "See? You can follow orders when you really want to."
I swatted his chest weakly, a smirk tugging at my lips. "Don't get used to it," I said, still panting, though my voice had a playful edge to it.
He chuckled, rolling off me and settling onto his side, his large arm draped possessively over my waist. "I don't need to. You'll break soon enough."
I snorted, feeling the familiar banter falling back into place. "You're dreaming, Salvaterre. If anything, you're the one breaking. You were practically trembling back there."
His dark eyes flashed with amusement, and he leaned down to brush his lips against my ear. "Oh, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice low and teasing. "If I was really trying to break you, you wouldn't even be able to walk right now."
I rolled my eyes, unable to stop the grin tugging at my lips. "Bold words for an old man who can barely control himself."
He raised a brow, his grip on my waist tightening just enough to remind me of his strength. "Care to test that theory?"
I shot him a challenging look, though the heat still lingered in my veins. "Maybe next time," I teased, flipping onto my side to face him, our noses brushing and suddenly the tent didn't feel all that small. "You've got to save some energy if you plan on keeping up with me, after all."
His eyes glinted with amusement, and the playful edge in his smile sent a shiver of anticipation through me. "Oh, you have no idea what you've just gotten yourself into,"
With a wink, I scooted a little further from him— well, as far as I could, feigning innocence. "Well, in that case, let's see if you can keep your hands to yourself until morning."
Lorcan's low chuckle reverberated in the tent, his eyes gleaming with challenge as he watched me. "Go to sleep already," He insisted. I look at him, staring at his features softened by the moonlight filtering through the canvas.
And as I settled back into the blankets, his body warm beside mine, I couldn't help but smirk, knowing that the game between us was far from over. "Goodnight, Lor," I mumble quietly.
The faint light of dawn filtered through the tent, pulling me from sleep. The warmth of Lorcan's body was missing, and the space beside me felt cool to the touch. I blinked groggily, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I rolled onto my back, pulling the thin blankets over my bare body, the events of the previous night replaying in my mind.
I swallowed hard, my heart thudding as I thought about everything—what it meant to have crossed that line with Lorcan. We'd been stuck in this tense back-and-forth, pushing each other's buttons ever since I met the male, but last night had changed everything, we stepped past a boundary we couldn't come back from. A part of me wondered if it would be different now, or if he'd go back to being the brooding, impossible male he was before. My chest tightened, but I pushed the thought aside. No use overthinking it, especially when we had a mission to accomplish.
I took a deep breath, sitting up and squaring my shoulders as I reached for my clothes, trying to act as normal as possible. We had orders and obligations, and I couldn't afford to be distracted by what happened between us. But gods, it was hard to ignore the lingering ache in my body, between my legs, the reminder of how thoroughly Lorcan had claimed me.
I ran my hands through my messy head of hair and braided it back to have somewhat of a semblance of neatness. With my nightgown replaced by my gear, I slipped out of the tent, the early morning air crisp against my skin, my boots crunching on the fallen leaves. As I approached the campfire, I spotted Lorcan among the rest of Maeve's blood sworn—all gathered around, the smell of campfire smoke filling my senses.
The moment I stepped to where the rest sat, Fenrys' head snapped up, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Well, well," he drawled, his golden eyes sparkling with amusement. "Look who decided to join us."
I forced a casual smile, pretending I hadn't noticed the way the rest of the males exchanged looks. "Good morning," I said, keeping my voice steady, though I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks. I kept my eyes off Lorcan as I took a seat beside the white wolf, ignoring the tension in my stomach that was somewhere between knots and butterflies.
Lorcan didn't say anything, but I could feel his presence in front of me, his tall frame looming over the fire as he flipped something on the skillet. I couldn't tell what it was amidst the flames, but with the way Vaughan and Rowan were wincing something told me it was a bird one of the others seemed good enough to eat.
Rowan raised a brow at me, his sharp gaze flicking between Lorcan and me before he smirked. "You sleep well?" he asked innocently, though the gleam in his eyes betrayed him.
I shot him a sidelong glance. "As well as I could, considering someone was snoring."
Fenrys snorted, nudging Gavriel on the other side of him, who was trying—and failing—to keep a straight face. "Must've been some noise last night," Fenrys said under his breath, not bothering to hide the grin that tugged at his lips.
Heat surged to my face, and I glared at him. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Gavriel gave a soft cough that sounded suspiciously like a laugh, while Fenrys outright cackled. "Don't worry," Fenrys said, flashing me a wink. "No judgments here."
My face felt like it was on fire, and I was sure my expression was betraying me, but I shot back, "How sweet of you, Fenrys."
"You know, if you ever grow bored of the brooding male you could always come join me in my tent instead," Fenrys added, leaning back on his palms with his signature smirk. "I could show you what it's like to really be loud," He suggested and I swore Lorcan's knuckles turned white he was gripping his hunting knife so tightly. But he remained steady, didn't so much as look at us as he awaited my reply.
"Tempting, Fenrys, but I think I'll stick with what I have. Once you go tall, dark, and brooding, it's hard to go back." I say, flicking my gaze past the fire to Lorcan, whose shoulders visibly relaxed.
Fenrys clenched at his chest, pretending to be mortally wounded. "Ah, so it's like that, is it?" he quipped, but the glint in his eye said he was far from offended. "I guess I'll just have to find solace in knowing I could've changed your life forever."
I grinned, leaning back on my hands as I shot him a mock-sympathetic look. "You'll survive, Fenrys. I hear rejection builds character."
He was about to retort when Rowan chimed in, his deep voice filled with dry amusement. "I don't know, Fenrys. After last night, it sounds like she found someone more than capable of showing her a good time."
My cheeks flamed as I glared at Rowan, though I couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up. "You too, huh?" I shot back.
Before Fenrys could continue the teasing, Lorcan finally broke his silence, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. "Don't you have better things to do than gossip about things that don't concern you?" He still didn't look up from the skillet, but the hard set of his jaw and the tension in his broad shoulders were unmistakable.
Vaughan, silent as ever, gave a half-shrug, tossing a stick into the fire as he added his two cents, his voice calm but amused. "Considering the noise last night, it kind of does concern all of us."
A chorus of snickers followed, and even Gavriel cracked a grin. My face went up in flames, and I buried it in my hands. "You all need better hobbies," I muttered into my palms, but it did nothing to stop the laughter ringing through the camp.
I turned my head just enough to catch Lorcan's eyes as he finally glanced over at me, the firelight flickering in his gaze. The corner of my lips lifted in a challenging smirk.
"If you lot are done, breakfast is ready." He moved and passed me a plate, his warm hand brushing against mine for just a second—a flicker of something unspoken passing between us—before he turned back to the skillet.
The knowing looks from the others didn't stop throughout breakfast. Fenrys continued to make sly comments, Rowan smirked every time Lorcan so much as glanced at me, and even Gavriel, the most serious of the group, couldn't completely hide his amusement.
I had managed to block all of their comments and snickering remarks out, but for some reason, I wasn't able to shake the stare Lorcan had pinned on me.
I looked over to him and for a moment his eyes flicked down to my lips, a challenge. I smirked, beckoning him to test the silent boundaries. He didn't move, but he didn't look away either, and something told me we were nowhere near finished with each other.
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Elide—the girl from Perranth, with the broken shackle, the quiet wisdom, the heart of glass. No fireworks, no prophecy—just tenacity, strategy, and unfathomable courage.
And then Lorcan—our favorite grim demi-fae. Centuries old, burdened with guilt, shaped by war, loyal to the point of self-destruction. A man who has learned that intimacy hurts—and control is safer.
Two survivors. Two completely different kinds of strength. And together? They will be the best-written, most honest couple in the entire SJM cosmos.
Why Elide & Lorcan Are the Strongest Couple in the SJM Universe
There are many grand, fateful, sparkling love stories in the SJM cosmos—but Elide Lochan and Lorcan Salvaterre operate differently. More calmly. More honestly. More profoundly. And that's precisely why they feel like the healthiest, most logical, and most emotionally resonant couple in the series.
1. Elide: Strength Without Fireworks
Elide isn't a typical fantasy heroine. No flames, no godlike power, no Destiny-esque glitter. She survives through:
• Intelligence
• Patience
• Strategy
• Quiet resilience
Her trauma isn't romanticized. Her disability isn't "magically removed." She remains vulnerable—and yet crucial. Elide isn't a sidekick. She's a moral anchor. She's the character who holds everything together. Almost like Samwise Gamgee: small in stature, monumental in impact.
2. Lorcan: Not a “bad boy,” but a tragic product
Lorcan is not a romanticized killer. He is:
• brutalized by centuries of war
• shaped by obedience, guilt, and loneliness
• incapable of allowing intimacy without controlling it
Maeve didn't make him a monster, but a tool. And tools don't ask questions. His mistakes—especially calling for Maeve—aren't misunderstandings, but the logical consequence of his worldview. And that's precisely what makes his subsequent transformation believable.
3. The crucial point: He does NOT change “for” her
This is the crux of the matter. Many stories tell of. He changes FOR her. He becomes better so that she will love him. That sounds romantic—but it's just a facade. Something different happens with Lorcan:
He changes THROUGH her.
Elide is not a project or a cure. She is a catalyst. Her presence, her boundaries, her clarity force him to question his worldview:
• Responsibility instead of blind loyalty
• Intimacy without possession
• Love without power games
She doesn't say, "Be better for me." She says, "You hurt me. Bear it." And he understands: His old system protects no one—not even himself.
4. Forgiveness isn't magic—it's work
Between them exists:
• Real conflict
• Honest anger
• Justified distance
Elide doesn't forgive immediately. Lorcan doesn't just apologize—he acts differently. Love isn't a reset button here. Love is a mirror. And sometimes that mirror hurts.
5. Two ways of surviving—that complement each other
They are opposites—but not in a cliché way. Elide: Cunning, patience, heart, moral clarity. Lorcan: Strength, experience, hunger for belonging. They don't save each other. They balance each other. The scene at the dam says it all: Not "I'll die for you" — but "We're alive. Together. And you're not running away."
6. Why they feel more realistic than many other couples
Many SJM relationships are based on: Destiny. Mate bond. Cosmic magic. Elide & Lorcan, on the other hand, are based on:
• Choice
• Consequence
• Responsibility
• Slow, conscious development
No fairy tale. No promise of salvation. But two broken people learning to become visible, authentic, and reliable.
And that's precisely what makes them — at least for me — the best-written couple in the entire SJM universe Not because they're perfect. But because they mature — together, side by side, step by step. Because change here isn't performed, it's earned.
Summary: Dorian fulfills your fantasy of being fucked on his throne.
Warnings: 18+ smut
Word Count: 2,943
Author’s Note: I’m not 100% satisfied with this, but I’m still proud of myself for finishing it. I stayed up until 4:00 in the morning to finish writing and editing, and then put it in my drafts. And please ignore how boring/dumb the title is. I couldn’t come up with anything else.
“Everyone out.” Dorian’s voice rang throughout the room, echoing off the marble floors. The guards quickly left, including Chaol who sent a glance toward his friend and then to you before shutting the doors behind him. The room was completely empty now. It was just you and Dorian, who still had his eyes on you.
Chaol had fetched you from the library, informing you that Dorian had requested your presence in the throne room, but did not say why. When you asked if something had happened, Chaol had quickly reassured you that the king was fine and had simply wanted to see you.
The way Dorian was currently looking at you—a predatory look in his eyes—made your heart skip a beat, and you took a moment to study his clothing. He always dressed immaculately, but today he showed to be the perfect portrait of royalty. His black hair neatly combed with a gold crown placed perfectly upon his head, a fitted black jacket embellished with red and gold, a silk tunic, black trousers and black knee-high boots. The wedding ring adorning his finger—a silver band with a sapphire jewel that matched your own—gleamed in the sunlight.
Your body started to feel warm, your dress too constricting.
The corner of his lip tugged upwards and he reached out a hand, gesturing for you to step up the dais. “Come here.”
You remained still. His eyebrows faintly rose at your defiance and you could see a sliver of amusement in his eyes.
“Ask nicely,” you said, a small grin starting to form on your lips, “and then maybe I will, husband.”
He chuckled, the noise coming out breathy. “Please, come here my dear wife.”
After a moment of mock contemplation, you obliged, slowly walking up the steps so you wouldn’t trip over the fabric of your dress.
Once you were within his reach, you grabbed his hand and laced your fingers together, looking at his wedding ring before speaking. “When Chaol came to get me I was worried at first—I thought maybe something had happened.” Dorian’s gaze softened. “He was quick to reassure me that you were more than fine, although he didn’t share why you wanted to see me.”
Dorian started to smile. “I didn’t tell Chaol why I wanted to see you.”
“And why is that?” you asked, head tilting to the side.
“Because I didn’t want him to know that I would very much like to fuck you on my throne.” You choked out a laugh and felt your face begin to warm. His smile widened at the sound, sapphire eyes bright. A few weeks ago, laying in your shared bed after hours of passionate love making, you had confessed to Dorian about your fantasy of having sex on his throne—with no one else in the room, of course—and he had only laughed and playfully teased you before fucking you once more. You thought he had forgotten all about it. Apparently not. He added, “But I’m sure he will figure it all out rather soon.” And then a sly grin came across his face. “If he doesn’t, then I’m sure the noises will be confirmation.”
“Your mother would be horrified if she found out,” you mused. It was no secret that Georgina Havilliard wasn’t overly fond of you. When envisioning a future wife for her eldest son she favored the idea of a princess or at least a woman of high nobility, not a commoner like you. But Dorian didn’t care about her opinion and had no problem voicing it. He loved you and that’s all that mattered.
Your husband only shrugged before lightly tugging your hand. You saw the mischievous gleam in his eyes and knew that he wanted to indulge you in your fantasy. You lowered yourself onto his lap, straddling his hips and his large hands immediately gripped your thighs. Bringing your hands to cup his jaw, your thumb lightly traced the sharpness of his cheekbone, and then brushed it against his bottom lip.
You let yourself take time in admiring his features. His beauty. Just Dorian himself. Your Dorian.
Removing your hands from his face, you lowered them to his shoulders, and then to the firm muscle of his abdomen through his clothing. His stomach tightened at your touch and with one last glance at his face, your lips found his in a soft kiss, one so at odds with the burning desire that snapped through the air. Your entire body was tingling from excitement and the feeling of his warmth seeping into you.
Dorian’s tongue meets yours tentatively, waiting for you to lead the kiss, letting you decide how you wanted it. You let yourself take control. You alternate between gently nipping his lips and stroking your tongue against his while running your fingers through his thick hair.
Your heart was racing and your face warm. Dorian pulled away to rest his forehead against yours. His lips were swollen from your kisses and his tanned face was a light shade of pink. “Tell me what you want,” he breathed, sapphire eyes glazed over with lust.
You swallowed, trying to catch your breath. “You.”
“Want me to make you feel good?” he murmured.
“Yes.” You nodded eagerly, and not bothering to wait for him to take control, your hands grip the collar of his tunic as you drag Dorian in for a kiss that’s desperate and a little sloppy. His tongue in your mouth once again, and his hands move to cup your ass, kneading the flesh. A pleased sigh leaves you.
He deepens the kiss. It’s demanding and ravenous. You let yourself melt into him, let yourself just be here in the now with him. Unashamed and happy. You teasingly roll your hips against his hardness, causing a wave of pleasure to shoot through you, and a low, rough groan escapes him. You repeat the motion again, feeling arousal pool between your thighs.
His lips began to plant kisses along your jawline, and then leaves a trail of kisses down the column of your throat. Sucking the skin before harshly biting, a gasp leaves you at the slight stinging sensation. “I want to see my marks on you.” And you wanted to see his marks on you too. You wanted everyone to know that no one could touch you like Dorian could. That no one would ever be able to please you like Dorian did.
His hands started to untie the front laces of your dress, your bare breasts now exposed, and your nipples hardening from both your arousal, and the cool air. His lips leave love bites on your neck and collarbones, and then your breasts. You looked at him to see that his eyes were already on you, pure hunger shining in them.
And when Dorian brought your nipple to his warm mouth, you couldn’t stop the strangled moan that left you. Your back arched as your hands came to rest on his broad shoulders. He continued his torturous teasing; the rough sucking, the gentle biting. Your head tipped back as his fingers tugged at your other nipple. “Dorian,” you mumbled. Your cunt was wet, the lace fabric starting to become uncomfortable.
He wasn’t using his phantom hands. He wanted you all to himself.
He lips wrapped around your other nipple, continuing the same ministrations but even more harsher this time. Your thighs tightened around him. He shuddered when your body moved against his, a debauched sound escaping his throat—a sound you wanted to hear more of.
You continued to slowly grind yourself on him, desperate for some kind of relief. A pathetic whimper was voiced when your sensitive clit rubbed against the fabric of his pants.
“I need more.” The words came out as a plea. It wasn’t enough. Your body craved more.
Dorian released his mouth from you, looking into your eyes and said, “Tell me what you need and I will give it to you.”
“You inside of me.”
Your fingers trembled as you quickly undid the button to his pants and then his zipper. He pushed the skirts of your dress further up until your panties were completely visible, and without hesitation he pushed the material to the side and slid a finger through your folds, a breath leaving him at the feeling of your wet cunt.
You brought Dorian in for another kiss, one that left you breathless, and then pulled back to look at him. His hair was messy from your fingers running through it, pretty flushed cheeks, and swollen lips. He still had the pale band around his neck from where the collar had been, but it did nothing to diminish his beauty.
“You’re beautiful,” you breathed.
Dorian laughed, his eyes glimmering with mirth, and your heart skipped a beat at how joyous it sounded. “I prefer devastatingly handsome.” He paused to kiss you once more. “But thank you.”
You smiled and opened your mouth to respond, but a moan came out when he slid a finger inside of you, purposefully slow. You looked down to see his finger sliding in and out, gathering more of your slick. “You like seeing me touch you?”
You nodded, slightly rocking your hips and bringing your hand down to rub your clit at a steady pace. A silent hiss left your lips at the contact, and pressure started to form low in your belly, a bundle of nerves starting to become more intense. His other hand kneaded your breast, adding more stimulation, making your orgasm grow nearer, even more so as a second finger entered you.
Your cunt started clenching rhythmically, eager to find that release you desperately wanted. You started rubbing your clit faster, feeling a sheen layer of sweat on your body and hairline despite the room being a little cold. You could only imagine how messy your appearance was right now, but you couldn’t bring yourself to particularly care.
Breathy gasps left you as you climaxed, your body shuddering from the intensity as Dorian helped you ride through your high. The feeling leaves you in ecstasy, slightly buzzed. Only when you stopped pleasuring yourself did he gently remove his fingers.
He brought them to his mouth, sapphire eyes glazed over with burning desire, and tasted your arousal. A pleased sound left him. He tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear as he pulls you in for a fiery kiss, your tongues stroking against one another.
You push down his undershorts, his cock springing free, hard and the tip leaking with arousal. You swallowed. You wanted Dorian to fuck your throat until tears streamed down your face, but that would happen next time when you two had more time, it could wait. Instead, you grabbed his cock and stroked him, and Dorian tipped his head back.
Your thumb collected the moisture at his tip, rubbing it along his slit and he groaned. You could tell that he was restraining himself from bucking his hips. After giving a soft squeeze, you very slowly start stroking him. His brows slightly furrow and his hands tighten their hold on your backside. You give a harsh tug, and then another before picking up your pace a little more.
The restraint that Dorian was holding onto broke free as he removed your hand from his length and tightened a fist over it, giving a few leisure strokes of his own, and then angles himself up with the entrance of your cunt. And when you finally lowered yourself onto his cock, you couldn’t stop the shudder that ran throughout your entire body. The feeling of him being inside you felt so warm and full.
You both paused for a moment to just breathe each other in, and then you began a slow pace, placing a hand around his throat and the other on his chest to balance yourself. The stretch of his cock is a delicious torture; you could never grow tired of this. A shaky breath escapes your lips as you ride him. His hands come to rest on your hips to help steady you.
You could feel a thin layer of perspiration cling uncomfortably to your back, but you ignored it as you lightly squeezed Dorian’s throat and closed your eyes, feeling nothing but pure bliss.
Very slowly you start to move a little faster, his heavy breathing encouraging you. Each time your hips moved upward you squeeze around his cock, making his eyebrows lightly crease from pleasure and his hands tighten their hold on you. You bring your mouth to his, and heavy, forceful kisses leave your lungs burning for air. Your hands and his own are all over each other, frantic, as if you two can’t get enough of one another.
“How did I get so lucky?” he asked. “How did I get so lucky as to have you?”
Before you could open your mouth to respond, Dorian’s hand came down to harshly smack your ass and you gasp in surprise. He does it again, but harder this time and it causes you to clench around his cock, and in response he lets out a quiet groan. He lets his nails lightly scratch the side of your ass before slapping you again. You wouldn’t be surprised to find handprints later on.
He stopped your movements by firmly grabbing your hips, and before you could question what he was doing, he slammed you down onto his length—hard. You both let out choked moans and your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head. He repeated the same motion thrice more before snapping his hips upward. The sound of skin-on-skin echoing throughout the room.
“You can take it,” Dorian panted.
His hands are still holding your hips in place to keep you in his control. Your back arches in pleasure, a small whimper leaving your lips, and a deep pressure starts building in your belly, tingles rippling through your entire body. You plead for your husband to go faster, desperately wanting to find release. Your mouth hangs open as your forehead falls against his, and a bead of sweat trails down your temple from your hairline. You ignore the uncomfortable feeling of sweat clinging to your body.
Your hands cup your breasts, kneading the flesh before rolling your nipples in between your thumbs and forefingers to add more stimulation. You groan at the sensation. Dorian watches keenly, his throat bobbing.
Your cunt is throbbing painfully and your walls are pulsing as your body tightens around him. He releases his hold on you so you can move against him, and you bring your hands to rest on his shoulders to ride him faster.
“Take what you want,” he encourages. “Ride my cock like a good girl.”
You whine at the praise, clenching around his cock. He moans at the feeling of your tight, wet walls around him. The sound sent a rush of pleasure to your core. He kisses you harshly before speaking again. “You’re doing so good for me. Always so good for me.”
The knot in your stomach twists. “I’m going to come,” you gasp out. Your movements become chaotic and uncontrolled. You start rhythmically pulsing around his cock and he snaps his hips in a frenzy to help bring your climax closer.
“That’s it,” he rasped. “Come for me.”
With a loud moan, your orgasm rolls through you in an intense convulsion, your vision blurring. Your toes curl so hard in your slippers they begin to cramp as pure ecstasy floods your body. Your limbs tremble and spasm as you hold onto Dorian tightly, burning your face into the crook of his neck.
He curses, nipping the lobe of your ear as his warm hands grip your thighs. His hips buck frantically, chasing his own release, and when you clench around him again he groans loudly, spilling into you. His breathing is ragged against your neck as his thrusts slow down before coming to a stop.
The two of you trembled in each other’s arms as you came down from the high. You sigh, closing your eyes, letting yourself rest your head on his chest and listen to the erratic beating of his heart. Dorian lazily ran his hand up and down your back. His touch is soothing and gentle, like always.
The air in the room was stifling, too hot, despite it being chilly when you had first arrived. You swallow, trying to catch your breath and calm your racing heart. You could feel your dress stick uncomfortably to your skin from sweating, and stray pieces of your hair were stuck to your forehead. You were too dazed from your orgasm to care about your appearance.
“Do you think Chaol knows?” you ask softly. Both of you had been in here for more than ten minutes and neither of you had exactly been quiet, and Chaol wasn’t dumb; he saw the way you and Dorian were looking at each other before leaving the room.
“Given how loud you and I were, then yes, I would assume so,” Dorian says. “But if he isn’t aware, then I have no problem fucking you again.”
You laugh loudly at that and he joins you, the sound making your heart skip a beat. You had no problem with being fucked on his throne again, if anything it made you want to do it again.
“I would like that,” you respond, stifling a yawn.
“I thought as much.” You couldn’t see his face, but you knew that Dorian was smiling, and you felt a smile bloom on your lips too, feeling happy and content with being in the arms of your husband.
I think at this point I’ve read enough to form a proper opinion about TOG and compare it to ACOTAR.
I’ve just finished Queen of Shadows and I’m almost done with the tandem read (Empire of Storms + Tower of Dawn).
(Side note: it’s only been 10 days and I’m already 80% through both books, wild for me because I’m normally a very slow reader. The only time I read that fast was with Zodiac Academy 🫠).
So here are my thoughts:
One of the most striking differences lies in how the protagonists are written. Aelin possesses actual agency. She not only has raw magical power, but also the intellect and independence to wield it effectively. She strategizes, and leads with foresight. Her victories are the result of her own choices and careful planning.
Feyre, by contrast, is written as if she is powerful, but in practice, most of her “knowledge” and decision making come directly from Rhysand. Her power often feels like an accessory to Rhys’s influence rather than her own earned strength.
While Aelin cares about other women and people, she despise slavery. We know how feyre is "High lady" of people stucked under litteraly montain only because Rhys says they deserve that
This makes Aelin a character defined by self-sufficiency, while Feyre is defined by her bond with Rhys.
In TOG, the multi-POV structure allows the story to branch outward. We gain insight into a wide range of characters, their struggles, and their growth. This creates a rich political and emotional tapestry where no single character is the sole authority on truth.
In ACOTAR, the single POV of Feyre’s restricts the narrative. Our understanding of the world is filtered entirely through her perceptions, naïve thinking and, more problematically, through the explanations given by Rhys. The result is a narrower, unreliable and more controlled story where the larger world often feels underdeveloped.
TOG presents what I would call a true found family. Aelin’s court (plus characters like Dorian, Chaol, Manon... And potentially Elide and Lorcan remember I'm still at the end of the tandem read) consists of individuals with different backgrounds, clashing loyalties, and opposing personalities. Their unity is hard earned and rooted in overcoming differences. That complexity makes their bond authentic.
While inn ACOTAR, the Inner Circle is often described as Feyre’s “found family,” but functionally they are Rhys’s preexisting circle of friends. Their acceptance of Feyre feels conditional on her bond with Rhys, not on her as an independent person. no need ofcourse to say that they did hide from her, her threatening pregnancy only bc Rhysand says so.
Where ACOTAR relies heavily on romantic dynamics and a single perspective, TOG broadens its scope through multiple characters, layered political intrigue, and a protagonist who demonstrates independence and foresight. Thematically, TOG provides a more convincing portrayal of power, perspective, and found family, and the real journey and growth of Aelin story not her love. while ACOTAR narrows its focus around Feyre and Rhys’s relationship.
