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sindrafalcone · 3 years

Text

Double Combo

Fandom: BIGBANG/ Choi Seunghyun x reader x Kwon Jiyong

Synopsis: Yeah, you read that right…

Warnings: Smut… lots and lots of unapologetic smut (with just a little fluff, because I’m a romantic sap at heart). Please don’t read if you’re not 18+! Also, this is not a GTOP fic. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, you just won’t find it here.

Author’s Note: I started writing this as just a story for myself years ago. Then my #1 decided to confess to me that she was having trouble with GD creeping into her Ultimate Bias spot. Naturally, I felt like I had to finish this & share it with her. Here you go @andperset, hopefully you like it. <3

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. This story contains fictional representations of real people. None of the events are true. This is from an American standpoint, so some of the situations may not happen the same way they might in Korea. I make no money from the writing of this fictional work.

Masterlist

When you woke up early Saturday morning the first thing you noticed was a pair of strong arms gathered around your waist and soft breathing against the left side of your head. Glancing down, you also saw what looked to be a black mess of hair resting on your chest. In your groggy post-sleep haze, you blearily realized that you had not only one, but two men lying naked next to you, one on either side. You tried your best to recall the previous night’s events. It took you a few moments, but then you came to the sobering realization that these weren't just any two random strangers in bed with you. Oh no... you were completely surrounded by none other than Kwon Jiyong and Choi Seunghyun, Kpop's notorious rapper kings.

Your vague memories of the previous night slowly started to come back. You remembered getting ready at your apartment; carefully styling your hair and applying the perfect seductive makeup, slipping into a strapless red dress accompanied by a pair of killer black heels. You remembered arriving the hottest club in Seoul, and you vividly remembered the burn of the four shots of tequila you slammed back in quick succession at the bar. You remembered making your way out to the middle of the dance floor & the pair of strong hands that landed on your hips from behind... the heated gaze you met from another man across the crowded room. Oh yeah... it was all coming back to you now. There in bed, sandwiched between two gloriously naked men, how could you ever forget what had happened the night before? It was easily one of the best nights of your life.

______________________________________________

It had been a rough week for you, both at work and personally. All you had wanted was a break... a night of fun where you could let loose and forget about the real world for a while.

That was how you found yourself in the middle of the dance floor, carelessly swaying from side to side to the beat of the music. Your hands slid teasingly down the length of your body, the hem of your skin-tight dress riding up ever so slightly with every seductive rock of your hips. Your eyes were closed as you continued to dance, trying to lose yourself in the rhythm and the familiar buzz of alcohol. You were so caught up in the moment that you didn’t even realize a man had moved up behind you until you felt a pair of masculine hands grab you by the waist. Usually when this type of thing happened you would step away, not wanting to be groped by some random stranger.

But this week had been horrible and, propriety be damned, you were looking to have some fun tonight. The tequila in your system helped you to not over-think the situation. So you leaned back into him, raising one hand to wrap around the back of his neck as you began to grind back against him. His hold on your waist tightened as the man pulled you closer and started to move along with you. You could feel him hardening against your backside which only served to heighten your own arousal. One of his hands disappeared from your hip and you found yourself momentarily disappointed before he deftly swept your hair to the side and began placing open mouthed kisses along your neck. Your eyes were still closed and you reveled in the sensation of his soft lips on your overheated skin.

When he unexpectedly sucked on your pulse point, your eyes flew open as a gasp escaped your lips. Eyes roaming the crowd as you attempted to focus, you were surprised to find a man at the bar, watching you. No... watching both of you. You locked eyes with him as he slowly began to make his way towards where you were on the floor, his gaze never once leaving yours. It struck you just how much he looked like a wolf stalking its prey & you were more than willing to be the proverbial lamb in this case.

The closer he got, the better you could make out his face. He was attractive. Sexy. With piercing eyes and a chiseled jaw that you wanted to feel against your inner thighs as you rode his face. You groaned at the sudden erotic thought, feeling yourself dampen even more.

The man behind you hadn’t stopped rocking his hips into your ass, letting you feel his impressive length through his pants. One of his hands moved to your front, pressing you more tightly to him and his lips ghosted up to your ear, nibbling until he sucked the lobe into his mouth.

The man from the bar had finally made his way through the dance floor and was currently standing right in front of you. Now that you were seeing him up close, you thought he looked familiar but it was difficult to tell through the haze of the alcohol. You'd know if you had met him before though, maybe he just had one of those faces. The kind of face that said ‘I’d bend you over the kitchen counter and fuck you senseless while your roommate was watching TV in the next room.’ Yeah, you would've definitely recognized a face like that.

He finally tore his gaze from you and instead focused his attention on the man behind you. He said something, but you couldn’t hear the words being spoken over the sound of the music. Were they going to fight over you? Try to decide which one of them was going to get to take you home? You didn’t like to think of yourself as some sort of prize to be won, but you were so turned on by this point that you honestly didn’t care which one of them you spent the night with, just as long as you didn't leave the club alone. But they couldn’t really be arguing over you, could they? You felt you were reasonably attractive, but you never imagined you'd be the type to illicit such a reaction out of two complete strangers.

You didn’t have any more time to try and make sense of the situation because the man from the bar gave a slight nod to the other guy before placing both hands on either side of your face. He tilted your head up ever so slightly before bringing his lips to yours, kissing you softly at first but with a building intensity that made you cling tightly to him as you kissed him back. You began to feel dizzy, both from the heat in the club & because of the two men. Did this mean he had won the testosterone battle? He must not have, because you could still feel the other man pressed up behind you, his arms wrapped tightly around your middle.

Holy shit...

Neither man had let up, which meant they must have come to some sort of agreement to share. You opened your mouth in shock and the guy from the bar took the opportunity to invade your mouth with his tongue. The one behind you continued to rock his hips and you felt a hand graze your breast —who it belonged to you had no idea—but you decided to stop thinking for once and just feel.

"Let’s take her back to your place, Ji." the guy behind you said, his mouth close enough to your ear that you could actually hear his deep voice over the noise.

'Ji?' The guy from the bar. Wait... they knew each other? What the hell was going on? You looked back and forth between the two men, trying to understand exactly what was happening. The man from the bar, Ji— you really hoped that was just some nickname—nipped playfully at your lower lip before looking at you and asking, “What’s your name?”

"It’s uhh...” your brain temporarily turned to mush by the look of pure lust on his face & he smirked. “I... I mean..." you took a deep breath to gather yourself. "My name’s _________." you answered firmly, slightly embarrassed by your momentary slip of the mind.

You heard a light chuckle from the man behind you."Beautiful name for a beautiful woman.” his voice rumbled, sending a shiver up your spine.

The man in front of you smiled at that, actually showing teeth this time. It only increased his attractiveness, if such a thing was even possible. You would have laughed at the clichéd line if you weren't so confused. And aroused...

“What do you say we get out of here?” Ji said, still grinning. “You, me, and Seunghyun. My place isn’t too far, just a few blocks away.”

"You want to take me home?” your voice squeaked despite itself. “Both of you? Together?”

"Jiyong and I would like to continue this in a place much more private... and comfortable." the man behind you explained patiently.

You stepped out of his embrace just far enough to get a better look at him. This was the first time you'd gotten a good look at the man whose length had been pressed against your backside all night. He was insanely handsome. Platinum silver hair and a boyish grin that probably brought all the ladies to their knees. Seunghyun. And Jiyong. Why did those names sound so familiar? You looked back and forth between the two, studying their faces.

You gasped in sudden recognition. No, they couldn’t possibly be…could they? But why would two of the richest, sexiest men in the music industry want to take you, of all women, home with them?

"Because the way you were moving was sexy as fuck and I’d like to see if you move the same way when I'm buried inside of you." Seunghyun all but growled the last part of that sentence and you couldn’t help the small moan that escaped your lips. You hadn’t meant to voice your thoughts out loud like that. It was a bad habit that had a tendency to happen when you were extremely nervous.

"And I really, really want to know what you taste like.” Jiyong spoke directly to you, not stopping there. "I want to feel the way your thighs shake when I suck your clit into my mouth. I want to taste you on my tongue. And most of all... I want to hear you scream.”

You were finding it hard to breathe. Hell, you were finding it hard to stand. You had to squeeze your thighs together after listening to them describe what they wanted to do. What they were going to do to you if you consented. Were you really considering this? You weren't opposed to the occasional one night stand and after the week you'd just had, hot sex with a complete stranger sounded amazing. But this...? Sleeping with two men at once? You wanted to. At that moment you couldn’t recall wanting anything more in your entire life. Seunghyun and Jiyong were both staring at you intently, waiting for you to answer. To hell with it...

You tried to speak, but it came out just above a whisper. Both men tilted their heads and looked at you, obviously not hearing what you had said.

Jiyong leaned down to speak in your ear, “Yes or no, ________?” The way he said your name caused you to pause for a moment, swallowing hard before replying.

"Yes." you finally managed to say more forcefully.

That’s all the guys needed to hear. A low groan escaped Jiyong's throat and he slid an arm around your waist, keeping you close to his side as Seunghyun took one of your hands and led you out of the crowd and into the parking lot.

____________________________________________

You took Jiyong's two seat Lamborghini, him behind the wheel and Seunghyun in the passenger seat with you sitting sideways in his lap, turned toward the drivers seat. Jiyong hadn’t even pulled out of the parking lot before Seunghyun started pinching your nipples through the fabric of your dress as he kissed and bit along the column of your throat. Not wanting to be left out, Jiyong took his right hand off the wheel and placed it on your inner thigh, wasting no time in finding the juncture between your legs. He was satisfied to find you already dripping wet as he stroked the outline of your folds through your silk panties, pulling a long breathy moan from your throat. Without warning he hooked a finger, pulled the scrap of fabric to the side & plunged a finger into you, causing you to buck against his hand. You started to move your hips faster, silently asking for more until another finger finally joined the first. A shout erupted from your throat and Seunghyun covered your lips with his, muffling the moans.

He released your mouth long enough to pull the top of your dress down, revealing your breasts to him and took a hardened nipple into his mouth, laving at it with his tongue. Jiyong continued to finger you at a maddening pace. It felt amazing. It felt more than amazing and you were quickly nearing your climax. You started moving your hips more desperately, chasing your release and then Seunghyun suddenly bit down on your breast and that’s all it took for you to come apart in his lap. Your moans filled the small space as you came around Jiyong's fingers. He didn’t stop his movements as he continued to stroke you through your first orgasm of the night. Damn... you’d never come that quickly before. You were slightly embarrassed, but the feeling quickly passed as you watched Jiyong remove his fingers and bring them up to his mouth, licking them clean, one at a time.

"Fuck, you taste so sweet."

You were still trying to catch your breath, pulling the top of your dress back up when Seunghyun turned your head towards him for a slow, languid kiss. He took his time as he moved his lips against yours & your hands wound around his neck, pulling him closer so you could deepen the kiss. He sucked your bottom lip into his mouth before licking across the seam of your lips, expertly opening you up to him. He was good at this. You felt like you could kiss him for hours. But not tonight... No, tonight you had other plans.

"I can’t wait to be inside you.” he rasped in your ear, and you could only nod your head in agreement.

"We’re here." Jiyong announced as he pulled into the parking lot of an expensive looking apartment complex downtown. You all climbed out of the car, you still in Seunghyun's arms before Jiyong came around the car and helped you to your feet. The three of you all but ran inside the lobby, Seunghyun desperately pressing the button for the elevator.

As soon as the doors slid shut, Jiyong had you backed up against the wall. He palmed your ass through your dress, raising your leg slightly so he could drag your slick core along the outline of the obvious hard on in his pants.

"Oh my god..." you keened, your back arching off of the wall. He rocked his hips forward and you both groaned at the contact. There were way too many layers between the two of you for your liking. You needed to feel him inside of you and it couldn't be soon enough. Suddenly the elevator doors opened and he took a step back, but not before he grabbed your hand. Jiyong all but dragged you toward his penthouse, Seunghyun's palm on the small of your back as he followed you down the hall and through the front door.

__________________________________________________

They both maneuvered around you with ease in a way that could only be described as choreographed. It was as if they had done this before. You belatedly realized that they probably had, several times in fact. You could picture them doing this with other women, attacking them like a tag team with equal precision. You had a fleeting thought that you should have been bothered by it, the fact that you were just another woman being used in their little game. But with Jiyong peeling off your dress, only stopping to suck a nipple between his lips and Seunghyun grabbing your panties, all but ripping them from between your legs, you really couldn’t find it in yourself to give a damn.

You managed to make your way into the master bedroom, a California king bed taking up most of the space. The two men eased you back onto the mattress. Jiyong followed suit, his hands ghosting up your thighs & slowly spreading your legs so that he could settle in between them. He placed soft kisses on your inner thighs, and you finally got to feel the delicious slide of his jaw as he made his way up to your center.

Seunghyun was watching on from the side of the bed, clothes already discarded on the floor, his hand stroking up and down his aching length. You beckoned him over to where you were spread out on the bed. He crawled over to where your head lay against the pillow, that boyish grin once again gracing his exquisite face. As you looked up at him, he rose to his knees, erection in his hand stoking lazily until you replaced his hand with your own. You smiled to yourself when you felt him twitch against your palm. You gripped his shaft, pumping up and down a few times before running your thumb across the head, spreading the moisture that had already gathered there. You licked up the side of him, from base to tip and then proceeded to take him into your mouth.

As soon as you closed your lips around the head you felt Jiyong sweep his tongue through your folds, flattening his tongue up until he reached your clit. He lightly sucked it into his mouth and you bucked your hips up, seeking more, but he placed a firm hand on your stomach, halting your movements as he continued to tease.

You then began to focus on Seunghyun. You sucked hard, swirling you tongue around the head. One hand continued to stoke his length & occasionally you would twist your wrist as your hand slid up and down. His hand made its way into your hair, gripping tightly. You took that as a cue and slid more of him into your mouth, Seunghyun began to slowly and carefully thrust into you. Your head was bobbing faster now, your tongue swirling around him and you had almost forgotten about Jiyong, but then his fingers joined his mouth and yeah, you were very aware of what he was doing now.

He continued to flick your clit with his tongue all while pumping two fingers into you, matching the rhythm that you were moving up and down Seunghyun's shaft. Jiyong pushed harder, and you wiggled your hips, trying to force his fingers deeper. He curled them, pressing up on your g-spot and you completely unraveled, Seunghyun falling from your mouth as cries of satisfaction left your throat, body overcome with pleasure.

You were trembling, chest heaving as you tried in vain to relax. Your face felt flushed and you were pretty sure a slight sheen of sweat already covered your entire body. You watched as Jiyong slowly began to make his way up to you, leaving soft kisses above your navel and between the valley of your breasts until he reached your mouth where he placed a chaste kiss on your lips. You could taste yourself on him & it was incredibly arousing.

"That was better than I imagined." he murmured against your mouth and pecked at your lips again.

Then he got off of the bed completely, moving to stand. He made his way to the bedside drawer, pulling out a pack of condoms.

You shook your head at him. “No.”

Both men stopped moving, eyes wide at your declaration. “No condoms.” you repeated firmly.

Concern washed over Jiyong's face before he spoke. “Are you sure?”

You nodded confidently. “I’m on the pill and I’m clean.” then you continued more softly, “...and I trust you.”

You heard Seunghyun's sharp inhale and saw the way Jiyong squared his shoulders & blew out a heavy breath from your confession. With one final look at you he dropped the pack of condoms back into the drawer.

You felt Seunghyun lean down next to you, whispering in your ear. “Get on your hands and knees.” You couldn't help but shiver at his sultry tone and quickly did as you were told.

You felt the bed dip as he moved behind you, his palms grabbing your ass before suddenly pulling away. The next thing you knew Seunghyun's hand came down, slapping your right cheek, hard.

"AHHHH!" you yelled in surprise, not prepared for the sting from his palm.

"God, that’s beautiful. Don’t you love that sound, Ji?" he said as he slapped your ass again, the loud sound of his palm hitting your flesh echoing in the room.

"Fuck yes..." Jiyong replied, his voice laced with arousal.

You looked over at him, watching as he stripped himself of his clothes, revealing his naked, tattooed form to you for the first time. Damn, he was built like a fucking work of art. Just the barest hint of muscles and abs. You wanted nothing more than to run your tongue along the lines of his tattoos & feel the taut muscles beneath your fingertips. Jiyong had been following your gaze, head tilting slightly as he smirked at you.

Seunghyun's palm provided another powerful blow and you cried out. Then you felt the blunt tip of him pushing against your opening as he slowly eased his way into your wet heat.

“Fuck, _________...” Seunghyun said when he was fully sheathed inside, his voice breathy. “You feel incredible.”

He held the position for a few seconds, letting you adjust to the feel of him. He wasn't small, stretching you in all the right ways. You circled your hips once to let him know it was okay to move. He started with slow, shallow thrusts, barely leaving you at all. But you didn’t want it slow. No... you wanted, needed, so much more.

"Faster. Seunghyun, please.” you didn’t care that you were already begging. Both men had been toying with you all night and you were done with games.

His broad hands gripped either side of your waist and he started fucking you harder, moving faster against you. You braced your hands flat on the mattress, pushing back into him, meeting him thrust for thrust. Yes... this was exactly what you had needed. Seunghyun slapped your ass again and you moaned loudly, the sting much more pleasurable this time.

Jiyong was completely naked now as he made his way to the foot of the bed, right up to where your head was. You looked down at the obvious sign of his arousal, licking your lips at the sight of his precum. Jiyong rubbed the bead of it against your half-parted lips.

"Open." he commanded. And you did. You opened your mouth wide as he pushed inside, your eyes meeting his.

This was amazing. Sex for you had never been this good before. But this wasn’t just sex... oh no, this was absolute raw fucking and you were loving every second of it. You reveled in how incredible it felt... to have two different men, with two very different hard lengths pushing inside of you.

Seunghyun was still pounding into you from behind, the force of his thrusts causing you to take more of Jiyong into your mouth and you swallowed impulsively.

“Fuck, that’s good.” he growled. You looked up through your lashes to see Jiyong's flushed face, eyes screwed shut as his grip on the back of your head tightened.

You took him into your mouth as deep as you could, hollowing out your cheeks as you did so. When he hit the back of your throat you slowly rocked your head from side to side, listening as Jiyong swore under his breath. Then you pulled back and began sucking him faster, a ribbon of hair slipping out of his hands to tickle your nose slightly from the constant motion. Jiyong brought the hand not currently wrapped in your hair up to your face, taking hold of the stray lock and tucking it behind your ear. 'Well that was nice of him.' you thought to yourself. Good to know the man currently fucking your mouth had manners. The intimacy of the act was not lost on you, but you didn’t have time nor the mental capacity to analyze exactly what that meant right now.

“You look so sexy getting fucked like this, __________. Do you know that?” Jiyong asked.

You shook Your head no. Jiyong's hand cupped your jaw, raising your head up slightly. “You do...” he said, his voice throaty and hoarse. “You look sexy as fuck like this. With me filling your mouth and Seunghyun fucking you from behind. Damn...” he released your face, moving to wrap your hair more firmly around his hand instead while he pushed further into your mouth.

Speaking of Seunghyun, he was still slamming into you at a grueling pace, hands digging into your flesh hard enough to bruise. Then he leaned forward to speak into your ear. “Touch yourself.” he said, almost breathlessly. You quickly maneuvered yourself & reached down between your legs to rub at your hardened nub desperately.

You came quickly after that, humming around Jiyong's length, triggering his own release as he emptied himself down your throat. You swallowed as much as you could while Seunghyun continued to fuck you at an erratic pace. He lost his rhythm every so often and you knew he was getting close. With a pop you released Jiyong from your mouth, then you ground your ass back into Seunghyun. You swiveled your hips once... twice... until you felt him surge forward, stilling as he reached his climax. A low growl escaped his throat as he spilled into you.

Feeling Seunghyun pulsate within you brought on an unexpected wave of pleasure which resulted in another orgasm. It wasn’t as strong as your previous ones, but it was still just as satisfying and you moaned in appreciation as both of you came down from the high.

Before you even knew what was happening Seunghyun had pulled out and flipped you onto your back. His mouth descended onto yours and you granted him easy access as his tongue swept into your mouth, his tongue stroking yours. He kissed you thoroughly and you knew he would be able to taste Jiyong. Most guys would be put off by that, hell most guys wouldn’t even let you kiss him after you’d finished sucking them off, but Seunghyun didn’t seem to care and fuck if that wasn’t one of the most erotic things you had ever experienced.

Suddenly you felt yourself being pulled up from the mattress. Seunghyun kissed you again, hard and fast, all tongue and teeth before he pushed you into Jiyong's arms. He was now sitting on the edge of the bed, legs dangling over the side. Jiyong picked you up by the waist, swinging you over his lap so you were straddling him. Somehow, he was already hard again. He took himself in one hand and lined it up with your entrance, running the head through your folds a couple times before slowly lowering you down onto him.

“I want you to ride me, _________. Take every single inch of me into your drenched core.”

You made a small whimper but easily complied, your knees digging into the mattress as you rose off of him, leaving just the head inside and then slamming back down again. He felt so fucking good like this, hitting spots deep inside that you never even knew you had. Where Seunghyun had been solid and filling, Jiyong was long and rigid. His hands fell to your ass, kneading the soft flesh as he helped to lift you up, encouraging your movements.

You bit down on your bottom lip to silence your screams and Jiyong quickly reached for your chin, freeing your lip from the confines of your teeth. “Don’t do that.” he snarled. “I want to hear you. I want to hear how good riding me makes you feel.”

“Oh…fuck. Jiyong!.”

“That’s it, ________.” he said through gritted teeth. “Harder!”

Damn, the sound of his voice was so commanding. The low growl that emanated from his chest as he spoke made you even more wet if that was humanly possible. You thought that you would do anything for him if only he kept speaking to you like that. You’d probably jump off a cliff right now if he told you to, your brain was so addled with lust.

"Harder, ________." he repeated. "I said to ride me harder!” he lifted his hips roughly to get the message across.

So you did. You rode him for all you were worth and then some. Your head was thrown back as your arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders, using him as an anchor. Your breasts were bouncing directly in front of Jiyong's face and he took one nipple into his mouth before alternating between the two.

You heard Seunghun's low muttered 'Fuck...” from somewhere. Looking up past Jiyong's shoulder, you found Seunghyun kneeling in the middle of the mattress, hard in hand, gripping himself tightly as he watched you ride his friend. His pupils were completely dilated, his eyes searing into yours.

"You like that?" Seunghyun asked with a smirk, his voice husky with need. "Do you like watching me stroke myself while you ride Ji?"

You could only nod in answer.

"I want to hear you say it.”

Fuck. These two were going to be the death of you.

"Yes..." you practically purred. "I like watching you stroke yourself while Ji…oh god, yes!” you cried out suddenly as Jiyong bit down, his teeth grazing one of your nipples. “…while Jiyong fucks me.” you barely managed to get the words out as Jiyong continued to thrust up into you.

Seunghyun stroked a little faster now, satisfied with your answer. He actually looked at you and winked... the smug bastard.

You began to shake, your breath coming out in short pants and you were having trouble keeping your eyes open.

Jiyong noticed and he roughly demanded, “Look at me, __________. I want you to watch me as I make you come.”

You slowly opened your eyes and were met with Jiyong's heated gaze. You continued to stare at each other, his hips rising up to meet yours as you lowered down onto him. You both kept up the pace for a few minutes, nearing the edge. With one last thrust and swivel of his hips you came hard, your inner walls clamping down on Jiyong as your forehead tilted forward to rest against his own. Your grip on him was so tight as you rode him through your orgasm that Jiyong was quick to follow, his hands stilling your movements as he emptied into you. Your foreheads were still pressed against each other’s, breaths mingling as the waves of pleasure subsided.

You felt absolutely spent, eyes drooping as you melted into Jiyong's embrace. He reached up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear before cupping your face with his palm entirely. You leaned into his hand, opening your eyes.

“Hey...” he spoke quietly, looking at you with an unreadable expression.

You smiled softly. “Hi...” you leaned down to capture his lips, kissing him slowly. Then Jiyong rose to his feet with you still in his arms as he softened inside you. He turned around and carefully set you back down onto the mattress. He pulled out, rolling onto his back, laying down to your right.

Seunghyun, who was still rock hard, went to kneel in front of you on the bed. He placed his broad hands on your knees, rubbing small circles into your skin with his thumbs. Your legs parted instinctively for him and he moved forward, stopping once he reached the apex of your thighs. Seunghyun took hold of his erection and smacked the head of it directly onto your already overly stimulated clit and your hips jumped off the mattress at the contact.

“Seunghyun! Oh my god!” you half-yelled, half-laughed at him.

Then, without warning, he slammed into you, wasting no time in developing a harsh rhythm. You gripped the bed sheet hard, knuckles soon turning white.

“You feel so fucking good, ____________. So. Fucking. Good.” he punctuated the last three words with deep, hard thrusts.

You turned your head to look over at Jiyong, noticing that he was hardening once more. 'The stamina on this guy is unbelievable.' you thought. You reached over to grab hold of him, starting to pump the length of him with your hand. You adjusted the angle of your head so you could cover his lips with your own. The kiss was sloppy, desperate.

Seunghyun hitched one of your legs over his shoulder, changing the angle in which he entered, hitting that sweet spot deep inside. His hand reached up to squeeze one of your breasts and he rolled a hard nipple in between his thumb and forefinger before pulling on it gently.

The sensations were incredible. Your body was glistening with sweat as Seunghyun continued to fuck you senseless. You didn’t want the pleasure to end but felt exhausted and knew that you wouldn’t be able to handle much more. And you could also feel the tension building with each thrust of Seunghyun's hips. You'd already lost track of the number of times you had an orgasm that night, but felt like you needed just one more.

You mumbled breathlessly against Jiyong's mouth. “Touch me, Jiyong. I need you to touch me.” your voice coming out desperate, needy. His hand traveled down to where you and Seunghyun were joined and he quickly began to rub your throbbing clit. Seunghyun's hand was still on your breast, squeezing roughly and you arched into his touch.

You were close now, you could feel the wave of bliss building from somewhere deep inside. You dug the heel of your foot between Seunghyun's shoulder blades, rocking your hips faster against him as your hand furiously pumped Jiyong's hardness.

This was it. Stars danced behind your eyes as your loud cries of pleasure filled the room.

"Come with me." you begged, your voice ragged from screaming. "I want you both to come with me!"

“Shit, ___________.” Seunghyun said as he pushed deeper into you.

You felt Jiyong rock faster into your hand, his breathing labored as he buried his head in the hollow of your neck. “Oh, fuck.”

"Yes!" you screamed, "That’s it! Don’t stop... oh god... now! I need you both to come with me now!” and as soon as the words left your lips you came, the orgasm hitting you hard as your body shook from the onslaught of the intense feeling.

Seunghyun came with a shout, your name tumbling from his lips as he unloaded himself into you for the second time that night.

Your body was still shaking uncontrollably and you felt Jiyong bite down hard on your neck, his cum shooting out in strands across your hand and abdomen.

Holy... fucking... shit.

None of you moved right away, all slowly trying to catch your breath instead, bodies still trembling from the aftershocks.

After what felt like an eternity, Seunghyun was the first to move. He pulled out so that he could lay flat on his back beside you and you whimpered at the loss of contact. You felt the bed shift to your right and you watched as Jiyong made his way into the bathroom, probably to get himself cleaned up.

Your eyes began to shut for real this time, exhaustion taking over. You moved to the left slightly, cuddling into Seunghyun's side. He reached over, tenderly smoothing the hair away from your sweat-dampened forehead. You felt the right side of mattress dip again when Jiyong returned. He crawled in beside you and began cleaning off your body with a warm washcloth. You hummed in thanks at the sweet gesture. When he was finished he threw the cloth aside and slid in next to you, drawing the covers over all three of you.

The last thing you remembered before falling asleep was Jiyong lacing his fingers with yours, and Seunghyun placing soft kisses onto your shoulder.

________________________________________________

You could feel the moisture that had collected between your legs as you relived the previous night’s events. You looked down past Jiyong's messy hair to see that his fingers were ghosting across your abdomen, right down until he reached your core.

"What are you thinking about that’s got you so wet, hmm?" Jiyong asked, just as you felt his fingertips lightly travel across your slit.

You shivered under his touch. “Last night.” you smiled fondly at the memory. “Thank you.”

Jiyong kissed your sternum softly, “Anything for you, baby.”

"So... did we successfully fulfill your fantasy, Ms.________?" You turned your head slightly to look at a now awake Seunghyun .

"Yes. It was perfect." you said as you ran a finger down the side of his face. "But I’m pretty sure my ass is going to be sore for a day or two." you angled your head a bit more to glare at him properly.

He ducked his head cutely, “Sorry about that. I guess I got a little carried away... in the moment.” he replied, cheeks turning red from embarrassment.

"It’s okay, Seunghyun. As long as you promise to kiss it better." you teased.

"Oh, I’m sure I can manage that," he stared down at you with that private smile you adored so much.

"Last night..." Jiyong began, his voice growing serious now, "we didn’t use any condoms." You chuckled softly. Jiyong wouldn’t be Jiyong if he didn’t find something to agonize over.

You sat up so that you could look at both of their faces before speaking. “I wanted to feel both of you, only you.” your head moved from side to side so that you could look directly into each of their eyes.

Both men stared at you in amazement. Jiyong opened his mouth to speak, “But...”

You silenced him by pressing a finger to his lips. "I love you." you said, the tone of your voice leaving no room for uncertainty. "I love both of you, and I didn’t want any barriers between us."

You looked between the two of them, waiting for a response. But Seunghyun and Jiyong were quiet. Too quiet... and you feared that your confession had been too much for them. It was the first time any of you had said those words to each other in the few short months since you had started this little relationship. Were you moving too fast? Were they not ready for that? Was this whole arrangement just sex for them?

Tears started to form in your eyes and you began retreating into yourself. I shouldn’t have said that. I ruined a perfectly good thing by opening my mouth and now I’ve probably scared off the both of them. I was stupid to think that these last couple of months meant anything to them other than sex. I’m so stupid for thinking that they loved me too.

Your mind was racing with a million different thoughts that you didn’t even notice Jiyong grab your face until his lips descended onto yours. He kissed you roughly, swallowing your gasp of surprise. He pulled back suddenly, just far enough so that he could look into your eyes. And he looked…angry?

Then he spoke, his voice came out as more of a growl than anything else, “This was not about the sex. You’re not stupid for...”

You yelped in embarrassment, pulling your head away and shutting your eyes. Shit! Of course you had said those things out loud.

Jiyong took hold of your face more firmly in his hands. “Look at me, ________.” he pleaded, and the evident desperation in his tone caused you to open your eyes.

"I love you." Jiyong stated, his voice was thick with emotion and you noticed he had tears in his eyes too. "I love you so much."

You were crying openly now and you pulled Jiyong's face to yours, kissing him passionately. You heard a throat clearing politely behind you & tore your mouth away from Jiyong's so that you could face Seunghyun.

He was smirking at you. “He's wrong, you know...” he began and you felt your heart drop in your chest.

“You are stupid.” he paused, chuckling at your confusion before continuing. “You are so stupid for ever thinking that Ji and I could be anything but head over heels in love with you.”

Fresh tears now formed in your eyes and a strangled sob escaped your throat. Seunghyun moved forward to kiss you gently, his hands reaching for yours where they lay in your lap. You grasped his hands tightly before turning his palms over so that you could intertwine your fingers with his. Jiyong slid behind you, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist and you leaned back into his chest, never letting go of Seunghyun's hands.

Your heart was fluttering rapidly in your chest and you couldn’t help the wide smile that had spread across your face.

Seunghyun opened his mouth to speak again, breaking the silence. “I just want to add that even though this relationship isn’t entirely about sex, the sex part of the deal still means a lot to me. Because last night was fucking incredible.” he said with a wistful, far away smile.

Jiyong huffed out a laugh, his chest rumbling against your back as he held you in his arms. Gods, you loved that sound.

"I’ve got to admit, it was extremely hot to be on the receiving end of the infamous GD&TOP double combo seduction game. I’m a little jealous of all the other women you pulled that stunt on before meeting me."

Jiyong just held you tighter and Seunghyun leaned in to kiss your forehead.

"You have nothing to be jealous of, angel. All those other women were just that... other women. We were never in love with any of them." Seunghyun said sincerely.

Jiyong pressed a soft kiss into your hair. “Only you.”

"Mmmm. Only me."

Yeah... you definitely liked the sound of that.

#GD #TOP #Kwon Jiyong #Choi Seunghyn #BigBang fic #BigBang smut #double combo #gd&top

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ri-ahhh · 4 years

Text

west coast love (gd)

literally no one asked for this but I’ll expose myself and admit I haven't had dick in a hot minute and mama’s thirsty🤷🏻‍♀️🙊

3.7k

warnings: pure badly written smut

“I love the sunsets here.”

You’re gazing out the floor-to-ceiling glass windows of Ethan and Grayson’s new home with near-literal heart-eyes, elbow on the arm of the couch and chin on your fist as you cuddle the plush throw blanket in your lap closer to your chest. Neon pinks and oranges and streaks of stubborn baby blue paint the sky behind the rolling hills of Encino beautifully, backlighting the palm trees in the boys’ backyard so they’re dark and vivid against the vibrancy of the clouds. California hasn’t been your home for long — this house for even less — but a part of you falls more and more in love with it every night you get to see the sight before you.

Behind you, Grayson strides in from the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn and a couple cans of ginger ale Zevia, which you had requested as snacks for your movie date night in. He smiles; your appreciation of the simple things in life is one of the things he loves most about you.

“Do we even need a movie?” he asks, settling on the couch next to you. He sits the drinks and popcorn on the coffee table before reaching a big hand out to brush your long hair off a nearly-bare shoulder so he can see your profile better. “You seem pretty preoccupied.”

Your head whips around, slightly caught off-guard because you had indeed been so enthralled by the view, but smile softly in return. The sunbeams cause a halo effect around your face, making you ethereal and sweet and completely stunning in Grayson’s eyes.

He’s just as beautiful to your’s. He’s big and warm and hard all over. The angles of his face are perfectly highlighted and contoured in the sun. His pupils are shrunken from the direct light and allow those green-gold hues to illuminate his expressive orbs, which are showing you love and, suddenly, desire when they drop to where the spaghetti strap of your camisole has fallen down your arm.

That’s all it takes for him, really — the mere idea of your clothes coming off.

Your smile morphs into a smirk as you hook a manicured finger into the skinny strip of fabric and stretch it teasingly back in place with a sharp little snap that draws his attention back to your face. Now that he’s next to you for the night, you’d be lying if you said you suddenly didn’t want more than a few cuddles tonight, too; Ethan is out for the night on a date himself, and you and Gray have had far too few nights spent together lately due to the chaos of your lives. Earlier you thought you might be too tired for more than an innocent movie night, but like many other occasions, his mere presence proves you wrong.

“I was,” you admit, and turn your back completely on the sunset for a sight that’s suddenly more favorable. You can’t resist teasing him a bit, though. “By your own words I am a ‘look at the moon’ person. I could probably sit here and stare out the window until it comes up.”

He shakes his head with a grin and reaches out to drag you closer to him. “Not to man-splain, but these windows face west. You’d have to wait a long time to see the moon over here.”

You let out a little hum and hook your hand around his neck, pulling him with you as you take it upon yourself to lay both of you down on the couch. He stretches out on top of you easily, shifting half of his weight on his side so he doesn’t crush you, one hand resting above you and the other already settling in the dip of your waist. “You gonna keep me occupied until then? I have all night.”

“Oh, for sure,” Grayson chuckles, and ducks down to meet your mouth with his. It’s easy at first, an effortless and gentle reacquainting as you both take a moment to savor the simple intimacy of being near each other this way for the first time in way too long. You sink your fingers into his newly cropped hair, the soft bristles at the back of his head unfamiliar to the touch after becoming so used to the curls that used to be there. You miss the leverage, the control that came from being able to grasp onto those curls and pull him away, tug him closer, make his eyes roll back, elicit those deep little moans…

He still looks good, though, too good really, and you’ll find another way to get those reactions from him. Like by sneaking your hands under the soft fabric of his t-shirt until they meet the smooth skin of his back, and digging your nails into his shoulder blades right as you slip your tongue into his mouth. As you hoped, Grayson moans and opens wider, breathing harshly as you drag your fingers down the hard symmetrical planes of muscle, his tongue wet and soft and confident as it slides against yours.

His pleasant warmth has turned into a burning heat on top of you, suffocating you in the best way. You sink your teeth into his succulent lower lip, tugging until it snaps back against his pearly teeth, and break away from his mouth to catch your breath. Your hands bunch up the sides of his shirt in your fists as you pull it up as far as you can with him laying on top of you.

“Please,” you say breathlessly, and he obliges immediately, sitting up and reaching over his head to whip the garment off by the back of the collar. Your eyes are instantly met with the sight of golden skin covering his broad chest and the steep hills and ridges of his abs. The sun, dipping just behind the hills now, makes him look like he was sculpted by Michelangelo even more than usual.

You don’t get to admire the masterpiece of his body for very long, however, before he's settling back over you with an arm pillowing your head and his tongue licking back into your mouth desperately. You welcome the uptick in pace wholeheartedly, especially as he slips a thick, muscular thigh in-between your own. Your hips grind down on him instantly, and he smirks as he dips his head to suck hot kisses along your jaw.

“So fuckin’ beautiful,” he whispers into your ear when he reaches it, his hot breath eliciting a shiver so deep it makes you arch up into him with a moan. His free hand swoops up to cup your breast through your thin camisole and squeezes roughly, perfectly. “Want me to fuck you while you watch that sunset you love so much?”

You swallow and nod, moaning again when he latches onto that patch of skin of your neck right below your ear and behind the hinge of your jaw. He pinches your sensitive nipple that’s peaking obviously through the black fabric, sitting back to watch your face contort with pleasure at the simple act.

“Words, baby. Use your words.” He’s grinning down at you, thoroughly enjoying the effect he’s having on you without having to do a whole hell of a lot; he’s so fucking cocky, and you love it. You’re soaking wet, and you’d be willing to bet he can feel the heat of your pussy through the three layers of fabric separating your skin.

But he’s as equally hard as you are wet, and it’s enthralling to think he’s just as affected by you as you are by him, even if he hides it a little better. The dampness in your panties as you grind more roughly up into him is satisfying and sexy and makes you gush even more, and you wrap one arm around the middle of his back and the other around his neck for better leverage.

Your eyes meet his. “Want you to lick my pussy. Then I want you to fuck me,” you say directly, a smile of your own tugging at the corners of your kiss-plumped lips as his lashes flutter and he lets out a little growl. You’ve just hit him with the old one-two; Grayson likes eye contact and he loves when you tell him what you want so blatantly.

You achieved the proverbial knockout — you’re in control at that point, and you both know it. He sits up and shifts so he’s between your legs, finding enough room on the couch to rest back on his knees as he tugs your sleep shorts down your legs without hesitation and exposes the simple and decidedly unsexy cotton underwear you usually wear to bed. You hadn’t exactly been going for the lingerie look at the start of the night, but he could clearly care less as he stares at the obvious wet patch at your center when you spread your legs for him.

He looks back down at you with a dark, promising look in his eyes, and you smile sweetly back up at him, sucking a finger between your lips and raising a foot to press into the firm muscle of his left pec. “Eat me out,” you demand with a grin, wiggling your pedicured toes against his skin teasingly.

Grayson growls and grabs you by the ankle of the foot resting on him while you slip another finger into your mouth with a soft moan. He starts trailing kisses up the inside of your calf as he lowers himself to his stomach, then pulls your panties down quickly. He’s so wide, barely fitting on the cushions and between your thighs, but he makes it work as he pushes your right leg out into the open space of the living room and throws the other one over his broad shoulder.

“I love it when you’re bossy,” he says from that position, his eyes smiling up at you as he nuzzles into the velvety skin of your inner thigh on his shoulder, nipping gently. “Makes me crazy.”

You remove your fingers from between your lips with a smirk and trail them lightly just over your slit. You’re so sensitive and wet that even the barely-there touch makes you jump a little and coats your digits in your own slick arousal. Grayson opens his mouth before you even offer them to him, which in and of itself is so fucking hot you only let him suck them for a couple of seconds before you’re removing them to fist into his hair. You can’t wait anymore. “Get to it, then.”

He listens, and the first broad swipe of his tongue is just as heavenly as you anticipated, his eyes glued to your face as he watches you toss your head back with a whimper. He wastes no time in burrowing his face as deep as he can into your pussy, his tongue lapping and slurping up your juices with little moans that reverberate against you and make you groan.

“Yes, Gray,” you whisper, reaching blindly on the floor for a throw pillow and adjusting it hastily behind your head so you can see him better. He’s always so good at this and for some reason it surprises you every time, even though you’ve lost count of how many times he’s had his head between your legs.

His tongue is wet and soft and pure heaven as it dips inside you and curls deliciously, collecting your arousal in his mouth like it’s nectar from a flower. He pulls back and purses his lips to let it all drizzle with his saliva back over your pussy, growling and watching it with heated eyes as it mixes back with the fresh slickness seeping out of you before diving back in.

“Sweet fucking pussy,” he mumbles, his deep voice vibrating deliciously against you. “Tastes so good, baby. You wanna taste, too?”

You curse as your chest heaves and your thighs tremble like an aspen leaf in the wind, nodding wildly as you throw both your arms behind the pillow and wait for him to come up to kiss you or offer you a slick finger to suck on.

No such luck. Grayson smirks. Despite the frustration you feel, you don’t think anything looks better than his eyes peering up at you all dark and seductive and teasing like they are right now. “Gonna have to wait. Gotta make you cum first,” he says maddeningly, then wraps his lips tightly around your clit and suckles it into his warm, wet mouth.

“Grayson, fuck,” you squeal, your hips thrashing against his face uncontrollably. Everything is so wet and sloppy and perfect. His tongue is working the little nub simultaneously with his lips, and the combination is indescribable. Your head is flying high as he drives you to the edge, and your hands dive down once again for something, anything, to ground you. One finds purchase in his hair, and the other he meets with his own so you can interlace your fingers together.

“I’m gonna cum,” you announce a minute later, your voice all high-pitched and breathy and desperate. He moans and sucks harder, holding you down at your hip with his free hand as they fight to strain against his face. “Please, Gray, don’t stop…don’t stop baby, fuck!”

Bliss washes over you and your thighs close around his head sharply, your nails digging ridges into the back of his hand as you cry out. Your whole body shakes and he brings you down with gentle licks and kisses, his hands pushing against your legs to get them to open around him so he can sit up.

Your eyes open when you feel the cool air suddenly hit your dripping pussy, and gaze up at him adoringly as he towers over you on his knees. His cheeks are pink and his face is shiny from the nose down, somehow eliciting a throb down below even as you’re recovering from your orgasm. He grabs your wrist and drags you up by your arm, your body relaxed and ragdoll-like, but you follow his lead anyways. His big hands come to clasp your flushed face by the cheeks and he leans down, kissing you deeply and giving you that taste of yourself that he had promised. Mouth still glued to yours, he drags the straps of your camisole down your arms and tugs the top of it down just enough to expose your tits. He sits you back a bit and ducks down just long enough to swipe his tongue across each of your pebbled nipples with a harsh suck before he’s pulling back again.

“Turn over,” he commands, his voice strained, tapping your hip as he steps away completely from the couch.

Your camisole is still bunched around your waist, but you don’t think twice about it as you follow his instructions, getting on your hands and knees for him and preemptively arching your back as you wait for him to shuck his sweatpants and assume his position behind you.

Ass in the air, your arms hook over the arm of the couch and your pussy throbs in anticipation when you feel the dip in the cushion made by his knee. He smacks one of your cheeks and his groan at the sight of the resulting jiggle mingles in the air with your surprised yelp at the pleasurable pain.

“Fuck me, please,” you moan out against the damp skin of your arms where your head is resting, turning your cheek so you can see him. He’s got one foot planted on the floor, one bent on the couch, and one of his hands grips your hip while the other steadily strokes his hard, leaking cock.

He trails the blunt head of it up and down your slit and chuckles when you push back eagerly against him with a whine. “Patience, baby,” he murmurs, and you can hear the smug smile in his deep, rumbly voice. He runs his fingers up your dripping slit, collecting some of the slick moisture and rubbing it over his shaft. He’d be lying if he said he could wait any longer, either, the heat of your pussy practically a siren’s call of his name. “Ready?”

“Yes!” you answer desperately, gasping when you finally feel him start to push into you. The stretch is incredible; the fact that it’s been a few days and that he hasn't so much as slipped a finger inside you tonight has you extra tight and it’s so good, for both you and him. “Oh my god, Gray.”

The fit is so snug that he stops halfway, easing out slowly with a groan before pushing back in and going a little bit further. It takes a couple more passes before he’s finally completely sheathed inside you. He allows himself a few moments to gather his stamina and appreciate the view of your pussy lips stretched tightly around his girth before he slowly starts to build a rhythm.

“Fuck, that’s good,” he gasps, his hands clutching tightly at your hips as you start to bounce back to meet his thrusts. “Pussy so fucking tight for me, baby.”

Your eyes roll back and you moan, his long fingers squeezing into the erogenous creases of your hips that are hardwired to your clit. Your pussy throbs and you close your eyes when his pace picks up at the sensation of you tightening around him like that, losing yourself in the sounds of his grunts and harsh breaths and whispered curses. This is your favorite position and he knows it, and he has an equal appreciation for it since he’s allowed the view of your ass bouncing against his hard stomach, the gentle slope of your back.

The reflection of your tits jiggling and your blissed-out face in the window.

He smirks to himself and slides his right hand up your spine until it’s clasped in a handful of your thick hair at the base of your neck. He leans over you and sees in person your rounded lips, your lashes resting against the tops of your cheeks, the beads of sweat dotting your forehead as he continues to pound into you.

“Look, baby,” he breathes roughly into your ear. His breath is wet and hot against your skin, and you force your eyes to flutter open at his demand. “Sunset.”

You had been so zoned out from the pleasure he’s giving you that you hadn’t even noticed the deep purples that now mix with the lingering bits of orange in the sky. It’s still beautiful, and you appreciate it somewhere in a barely-cognizant part of the back of you mind.

Suddenly, he’s sitting both of you up, hand pulling pleasurably in your hair and causing your eyes to roll back. “Hold on,” he whispers, wrapping both of his arms around your waist once your back is flush against his chest.

Before you can even question him, he’s picking you up by the middle and walking you towards the window, still tucked inside you. Your feet instinctively lift up and one arm goes to wrap around the back of his neck while the other clutches around his that are supporting you. “Gray, what —”

He sits you down on your feet right in front of the glass. The room is lighter than it is outside now, so you can see both yourselves and part of the room while also having the full view of the dark hills, depending on what you focus on. Your eyes meet in the reflection and he bends you over at the waist slightly, spreading your feet apart to where he wants them. He collects your long hair and wraps it around his fist while planting his other palm on the window next to your head as he starts thrusting again, like he never stopped at all.

“No moon yet,” he huffs between long, rhythmic thrusts that have you trembling and barely able to stand, “but stars are coming out.”

“Yeah,” you moan, not really sure yourself if you’re answering him or if it’s just a reaction to the angle of his dick this way. It’s hitting your spot, the one you can feel from behind your belly to your nipples to your clit to your toes, and it makes your moans loud and wanton. Your temple rests against the cool glass, your hands bracing yourself against the window as you take him deep. Your eyes open enough to catch how one last, stubborn ray of the sun shining into the house makes the Rolex on his wrist next to your face glint seductively, like it’s winking at you. That’s hot.

“Harder!”

Grayson moans and releases your hair to rub expert circles into your clit as he does, indeed, thrust harder and faster into you. You don’t even have time to warn him that you’re coming, your second orgasm hitting you as quick and sudden as a tidal wave. You scream his name, moaning and whimpering as you fall apart in his arms, your legs shaking and struggling to hold yourself up.

He groans again, louder this time as his hips become sloppy with the unexpected tight spasms and warm gush of your pussy around him. He buries his nose in your hair and has enough of his wits about him to move his hand from your clit to your waist so he can support you against the glass

“Cum for me, Gray,” you whisper, out of breath and exhausted as you reach back and clutch at his hair, twisting so you can kiss him sloppily. You don’t know how you’re able to form sensible words, but your whimper against his lips. “Want it deep in my pussy.”

His jaw drops, a guttural moan catching in his throat as he pumps roughly a few more times before spilling inside you. Your name escapes his open mouth and every harsh breath that leaves with it finds purchase against your swollen lips.

It takes what feels like forever for you both to come down, but eventually he plants a soft, sweet kiss to your cheek and holds his dick as he pulls out with a barely audible groan. His discarded shirt is conveniently just a couple feet away, and he turns you around so your back is against the window before reaching down to grab it. He swipes up his nut that’s leaking steadily out of you and down your thigh, and you smile at him gratefully when he’s done, kissing him chastely to say ‘thank you’ before wiggling out of your useless camisole top.

“Still want to wait to see the moon here?” he asks, gathering you in his arms and hugging you to him with a grin.

You hug him back and shake your head. “It’ll be there tomorrow.”

#grayson dolan #dolan twins #grayson dolan smut #grayson dolan fic #dolan twins fanfic #smut

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blackstarising · 2 years

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Severance finale was INSANE! I was gonna sue Ben stiller if Helly didn’t get to fuck things up or if Mark didn’t find out & tell someone that Gemma’s alive so I’m glad! But Irving didn’t get to see Burt which sucks! And Dylan was the gd hero of the ep, holding out even tho he wanted to know about his kids!

i really wasn't sure that they could pull it off in 40 minutes but AAAAAAAAAAAA so many delicious and soul destroying emotional beats this ep and now we have a whole YEAR to see lumon burn!!!

#severance #severance spoilers

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pantone-palette · 3 years

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So, I’m caught up with AOT and I’m so disappointed. This show is SHIT!

Please read under the cuff because there’s spoilers, but also: This show is HIGHLY ANTI-SEMETIC AND PRO FACISTS.

I fucking hate its message and I’m about to rant about how much I want it burn in a giant pile of garbage and how much despise it with every fiber of my being.

Eldians are really a metaphor for the Jewish, and Eren and Zeke believe that the only way to ‘atone for their sins’ (generationally as a race of people which is its own gd anti Semitic metaphor) is mass sterilization.

Sdlfjhsdofhsdhfdsj ELDIANS ARE JEWS WHO BELIEVE THAT THE NAZI’S WERE RIGHT IN STERILIZING/KILLING THE JEWISH POPULATION FOR JUST EXISTING.

The one’s who head this cause is the main character, Eren, and his brother Zeke. And there’re the Jaegerists- a group of people who support the cause and are made up of military soldiers. Sound familiar?

I am so- I hate this show. I fucking HATE IT!!! It’s not even that good? Like the story in the sense of quality and pacing? But also- this message is awful. The message is THE WORST EVER. I fucking hate this shit and its creator. I DON’T SEE ANYTHING GOOD IN THIS.

The only thing that could kinda bring is it back- is if somehow, we pull a 180 and go, ‘No, it’s not right to kill the Jews/Eldians and Facism is BAD. This was also some sick turn to make you feel more humanity’. But I have a feeling, THIS WON’T HAPPEN.

I FUCKING HATE THAT THIS SHIT IS POPULAR AND PEOPLE GO ‘OHHHH, I LOVE AOT IT’S SO FUCKING GOOD’ YEAH?! YEAH?!?!?!!?!??! DO YOU LIKE TO SUCK ON NAZI COCK TOO?!??!!

GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE YOU PIECE OF SHIT

HOW CAN YOU BE OKAY WITH THIS?!?!?! THIS IS AWFULLLL

#RANT #aot #tyler speaks #tw anti semetic #tw aot #tw facism #facism #FUCK THIS FUCKING SHOW #LET IT BURNNNNNNNNNNN #I have to know how it ends so I can either toss it in the trash and light it on fire #or admit it has discourse #I have a feeling it won't change its narrative #YUCK

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featherymalignancy · 4 years

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Like a Lonely House, Part VII

JFC, I finally did it. PLEASE ENJOY! Also, if you need a refresher because it’s been a GD age since I updated, please check out the PARTS I-VI RECAP. Also please enjoy!

Like a Lonely House: A Nessian Story Of Betrayal and Redemption

“so I wait for you like a lonely house

till you will see me again and live in me.

Till then my windows ache.”

-Pablo Neruda

Warning: NSFW for language, mild violence, mentions of sexual assault, and smut. This story is not ACOFAS complaint, but it will borrow elements from the story. oh, also tons of angst. Synopsis: Fifty years after the Hybernian War, Prythian is finally at peace. For Cassian and Nesta, animosity has turned to something more amorous, and they stand on a precipice of something that scares and excites them both. However, it only takes one night of weakness on Cassian’s part to change everything, and with a young Illyrian prince gaining power in the North, Nesta agrees to an marriage alliance, both to protect her family and get her as far away from Cassian as possible. As things unravel between them, Cassian begins to suspect there is something more deliberate seeking to keep them apart, and he struggles to uncover the truth and win Nesta back before it’s too late.

If you’re new to the story, please click HERE for the masterlist.

TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter contains mentions of sexual assault. Please proceed with caution.

Part VII

The Macaran crowd roared its approval as Adan rose to his feet at the High Lords’ invitation, but Cassian couldn’t hear a single voice.

It was as if all the sound had been sucked from the world, leaving only a roaring silence in its wake.

Cassian had the sensation of falling, of drowning, of he didn’t even know what. All he did know was that he couldn’t think—couldn’t breathe—as he watched the prince turn to offer Nesta his hand. The smile she offered the spoiled little prick in return ran Cassian straight through, and he wondered if the female from the Corona was somewhere in the crowd smiling too, reveling in all she’d done to steal this moment for her Şehzade.

Blood slicked Cassian’s teeth as he bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood. The muscles in his back screamed at the effort of keeping his wings pinned, his every instinct demanding he find the female—whoever she was—and simply shred her to ribbons, all the rest of this theatre be damned.

His body was so tense it had grown hard to breathe, but he called on the promise he’d made to Rhys to play his part and managed to settle, if only slightly. Gritting his teeth behind pursed lips, he willed the ire which bubbled under his skin to cool, trying to force it out of his scent. He needed to wait until he was alone, until he could speak to Rhys and Az...

He glanced at the latter to find his friend already watching him, hazel eyes glittering as the shadows slithered up to neck towards his ear as if they meant to tell him a secret. Cassian couldn’t speak to Azriel mind-to-mind the way he could with Rhys, but Az knew him well enough by now to read his body posture, even as Cassian fought to keep his face and scent neutral.

Casually as he could manage, he reached up to touch his collarbone with both hands before sweeping his fingers across his chest. To the uninitiated it would have seemed little more than a stretch, but Cassian knew Azriel would recognize the message coded in the gesture, one of many they’d invented to convey information when traditional communication was impossible.

We need to talk.

Azriel rolled his neck as if simply trying to relieve some stiffness in the muscles, but Cassian knew it was meant as confirmation. It wasn’t enough to settle him, but it was enough to bolster his control as the gates of the Hewn City boomed open and the High Lords, the Macarans, and their respective retinues were all welcomed inside by a seductive string symphony typical of the Night Court.

The temptation to look at Nesta weighed Cassian’s every step, make his feet feel as if they were made of lead. However, he resisted, knowing that seeing her so near the prince would be enough to break the tenuous grip he had on his fury. It had melted from a burning in his blood to a frigid blade he could almost feel pressing against his palm.

Three moves, he told himself.

That would be all it would take to reach the prince and sever his spine. Three moves to rid himself of the threat, and two more to remove her from danger entirely. In less than a minute he could have them both in the sky, up and out of bow range in no more than thirty heartbeats.

He felt a warm hand slide into the crook of his arm as a soft, feminine scent twined around him.

“Peace, Love,” Mor breathed, linking her arm through his as she casually peeled them away from the prince and towards their own side of the grand dais. “We’re not yet unobserved.”

“I need—“ Cassian began, voice quaking with effort as his eyes remained on Nesta. He could feel her hovering near the edge of his consciousness, closer now than she’d been for months.

It was enough to drive him out of his mind.

His heart surged and sputtered in his chest, breaths becoming too shallow as his face began to grow numb from lack of oxygen.

“I can’t—“

“Cassian—”

Cassian brushed off Mor’s hand before she could protest, pealing away from the assembly and down the nearest corridor, not caring where it took him.He burst into the first door he found—which turned out to be a servants’ pantry—slamming it behind him before letting out a scream of undiluted rage.

All the time he’d spent searching, all the time he’d wasted not being at Nesta’s side, and now the female was here as a member of the Macaran court.

He screamed again, shattering the gritted mirror hanging on the wall with a fist.

It was too much; it was all too much, and Cassian felt it tugging at his every seam, unstitching him one pulled thread at a time. He warred with the violation seeing the female had riled in his gut and the vengeance he felt stirring in his bones.

It was in the Illyrian blood to meet every transgression committed against you blow for blow. It keeps the soul unblemished, his mother had always told him; that which is left to languish will eventually begin to fester and rot.

He could feel that rot now, coursing like venom through his system as he struggled for control.

He’d been right, all this time. The Macarans were behind everything, and still they were here, dining at the High Lord’s table and—

Cassian screamed a third time, picking up a jug of wine and hurling it at the wall with all his might before crumpling to his knees, breaths sawing through him.

“Sorun nedir, arkadaşim?”

Cassian lifted his head at hearing the Dalyanian dialect of his childhood, so different from the Atalyan they’d always spoken in the war camps.

Azriel had appeared out the shadow in the corner of the room, eyes lambert in the dim light.

Cassian bent his head, still fighting savagely from composure. He knew that after all they’d been together he and Azriel were beyond being ashamed in front of one another, but still he felt a gelid wave of it wash over him as his friend knelt at his side.

“What’s wrong, brother?” Azriel repeated, this time in the common tongue.

Cassian let out a shuddering exhale, falling back onto his haunches as he ran hand along the plait in his hair.

“She’s here. The female from the Corona. I saw her in the crowd earlier.”

Azriel’s brows drew together as his hand on Cassian’s shoulder tightened. He clearly needed no clarification on who Cassian meant.

“Are—“

“Please don’t ask me if I’m sure,” Cassian croaked. “You know that I am.”

Azriel bowed his head for a moment.

“I’m sorry. I should have—it shouldn’t have gotten this far.”

Cassian’s throat felt too tight for words, so he only nodded, hauling himself to his feet and cuffing Azriel’s neck to pull him in close until they were brow-to-brow, an old gesture of respect among Illyrians he knew Az would understand.

“It’s not your fault, Az.”

Azriel’s head snapped up, his eyes blazing with a cold fury his expression would never betray.

“I failed you,” he said, pulling from Cassian’s grip and flexing and unflexing his knife hand. “You and Nesta both.”

Cassian shook his head, unable to bare Azriel’s self-recrimination on top of everything else.

“Then make it up to me. Help me find a way to get her away from the Macarans.”

Azriel nodded, seeming to gather his composure.

“Does Rhys know?” He asked.

“No, I—“ Cassian broke off, running a shaking hand over his lips. “I didn’t want to rouse suspicion.”

He didn’t need to add that he’d also been losing his composure and had to get away to avoid making a scene; one look around the ruined storeroom was proof enough of that.

Azriel nodded again, jaw working as he considered.

“I will send Nuala and Cerridwen to scout the Macarans’ rooms. It’s possible whoever is holding her leash wants to keep her out of sight.”

“The smarter move would be to keep her close,” Cassian pointed out. “I’m sure that’s why they took the risk in bringing her here.”

A muscle worked in Azriel’s jaw.

“Adan knew I would send spies to Macar to search for her while the territory was unmanned.”

“Then he’s not as stupid as he looks,” Cassian said through his teeth.

“If he was really clever he would have killed her,” Azriel pointed on, hand straying to Truth-teller as if he was imagining doing just that.

Cassian had thought the same. The fact that they hadn’t—

“We need to be on our guard; it could be they’ve spared her for a purpose.”

Azriel’s eyes flashed in the semi-dark as he ran a hand over Truth-Teller’s obsidian hilt.

“We’ll find out soon enough.”

Cassian nodded, feeling his own resolve growing as Az clapped him on the shoulder.

“I promise, brother,” Azriel said, voice cold steel. “Tonight you'll get your answers. Right now we need to get back; we’ve been gone too long already.”

Cassian nodded, scrubbing a hand across his face and straightening his leathers as Azriel disappeared out of the door. Picking up a pewter goblet from one of the shelves, Cassian filled it with a mouthful of wine before he too slipped from the room.

He forced a slight stagger into his stride as he re-entered the grand hall, draining the small measure from his goblet before dropping it with a slightly-drunk chuckle and grabbing another from a passing servant girl. A cluster of Summer Court guards who stood nearby cheered as he drained the new goblet, and he raised his empty cup in salute before taking a third and heading for his place at the head table.

Mor laughed at seeing him, though the merriment didn’t reach her eyes.

“Are you drunk, Lord Commander?” she said, patting his arm as he dropped into his seat before adding in a whisper, “Cas, are you alright?”

He flashed her the lazy, edged grin he knew everyone expected from him.

“It’s a party; we should all be drunk.”

He raised his glass to closest Illyrian dignitaries, who all laughed obligingly as he did. Ellaria—who sat to Mor’s left—seemed to understand the diversion for what it was and turned to engage the Macaran finance minister in small talk to give him and Mor a reprieve from prying ears. Cassian was so grateful that were Ellaria not Mor’s mate, he would have kissed her.

“What is it?” Mor said, flashing Ellaria a smile as well.

“She’s here,” Cassian breathed. “The female. I saw her in the crowd when the Macarans arrived.”

The only indication that Mor had heard was the pallor in her ordinarily-bronze skin. She glanced down at the table in a casual gesture before whispering, “Have you told—“

“Az already knows,” Cassian said into his goblet, still not looking at Mor directly. “He’s going to tell Rhys and Feyre.”

“What are you going to do?”

Cash took another drink of wine, this one not entirely for show.

“We need to find her first. Then—“ he blew out an unsteady breath. “I’m not sure.”

“My gut says she’s here,” Mor murmured, pretending to straighten the skewed collar of his leather doublet with the affectionate fuss of a nursemaid.

“Mine too,” Cassian admitted. “How many of these servants do you recognize? the smart thing to do would be to hide her in plain sight.”

Mor scanned the room over the rim of her gem-studded goblet.

“Not enough,” she murmured. “Especially with all the other courts here as well.”

“Black hair,” he said into his own drink, quiet enough he couldn’t be overheard. “Dark eyes.”

“That’s half the females in the territory, Cas.”

“You’ll know her when you see her.“

Mor nodded her assent before casually turning her attention back to Ellaria to keep the conversation from seeming suspiciously intense.

Maintaining the pretense of drunken content through dinner was almost unbearable, but Cassian managed to hold on until the plates were cleared and Rhys stood, a hush echoing over the crowd as his power swirled around him like a onyx-studded cape. He raised his glass, his smile resplendent even as his gaze remained shrewd.

“Tomorrow,” he began. “We will celebrate the union of two great houses with all the solemnity and pomp such an occasion is due. But tonight, let us simply drink and get to know one another! Every hospitality my house has to offer is open to you all, and I only command you honor the Night by indulging in all its pleasures. May we look back on this evening years from now and celebrate all the friendships forged, memories made, and perhaps even the younglings conceived.”

At this there was a titter of heated laughter, and Rhys raised his goblet.

“Please, begin!”

There was a ripple of shock and applause as all the banquet tables disappeared at once, the soft, honeyed music growing dark and drugging as a haunting waltz began. Rhys offered a hand to Feyre and they descended onto the floor and began moving across it with the ease of two people who’d memorized how the other moved.

Cassian watched as the dance drew more participants from other courts, the space Rhys had cleared quickly refilling with bodies as the wine continued to flow.

Cassian was afraid to look too and see Nesta spinning across the floor in Adan’s arms, though curiosity quickly got the better of him. He glanced to where Nesta had been sited at the center of the grand dais to find her deep in conversation with the prince, Adan’s smile as effortless as the arm which he’d strung behind Nesta’s chair as he listened to her speak.

Red fizzed at the edge of Cassian’s vision at seeing the female he so adored with someone else, especially one as unworthy as the spoiled, treacherous princeling. Though his expression was mild, Adan still looked at Nesta like a target and not the arrow Cassian knew her to be, and it was enough to drive him mad.

Needing to do something productive, Cassian peeled off the wall and started towards Mor. He needed a way to survey the room without seeming suspicious, and the easiest way to do that was to go to the place he was least likely to be observed. Mor obliged him as he slipped a hand around her waist, fingers skimming the soft skin of her bare back as he swung her around and onto the dance floor.

She didn’t miss a beat. Using one hand to keep her voluminous plum skirts from underfoot, she strung the other around his shoulders, letting him guide her around the room as if the floor were made of glass.

 “Anything?” She breathed.

He tried to keep his focus muted as he scanned the faces of the hundreds of servants scattered around the room, as terrified as he was eager to see that face—her face—again.

“Not yet.”

By the third time around the floor he knew they needed to take a break; too long in his arms and gossip would spread in a bleed pattern Cassian didn’t want staining Mor’s reputation so close to her mating ceremony.

Just as he was preparing to release Mor back to Ellaria, who stood patiently waiting, he saw something which caught his eye.

Amidst the beehive of activity, there was one servant who’d remained in the same place the entire time he and Mor had been dancing. He didn’t dare look at the female head-on, but Cassian couldn’t help the way his fingers tightened on Mor’s waist as he swung her around again, using the diamond comb she wore as a mirror to get a better look.

Cassian couldn’t breathe.

The female stood with a jug of wine in her hand, but she made no move to refill any of the rapidly-drained goblets of the guests surrounding her, her back instead remaining glued to the wall.

“Where?” Mor said as he twisted her again in time to the music.

“Far wall,” he said, leaning in like they were sharing a private joke as he directed Mor to look where he’d indicated. “Standing behind the prince’s cousin.”

Mor’s face didn’t change from its beautific smile as she surveyed Lazar briefly, but disgust limned her eyes.

“We need to get Rhys and Azriel,” she said quietly as they spun a final time. “Meet me at the far refreshment table in two minutes.”

Cassian only forced a grin in reply, giving Mor a slightly drunken bow as he kissed her hand and headed for the table she’d indicated, looking for all the world like a drunken male in search of his next fix.

Indeed, when he arrived the long drought he took from the proffered goblet is was not merely for show. Cassian couldn’t be certain what would happen next, but he knew in his belly it would be painful. Perhaps it made him a coward, but he didn’t want to have to face it entirely sober.

Azriel appeared at his elbow several heartbeats later, and Cassian fought down an almost frantic anticipation as he turned to his friend.

“Where?” Azriel said in greeting, and Cassian indicated with his eyes as he took another heady sip.

“She hasn’t moved from that spot for ten minutes at least,” he explained, forcing his posture to remain languid.

“Lazar,” Azriel surmised, and Cassian nodded.

“We need to draw his attention elsewhere,” Cassian said. “Any ideas?”

“Not off the top of my head,” Azriel admitted. “I suppose I could—“

“I have one.”

Cassian’s heart squeezed almost painfully as he turned to find Elain standing behind him, her expression solemn but more gentle than he’d seen it in weeks.

“You would help me?” He asked.

Her brows knitted as she pressed forward to lightly cup his cheek. He couldn’t help the way his eyes fluttered closed at the touch. It wasn’t just Nesta’s company he’d missed these long weeks alone; it had been Feyre and Elain’s as well.

“Forgive me I didn’t do it sooner,” she said, eyes glassy. “Az told me the female from the tavern is here, traveling with the prince. I was wrong to doubt you, Cassian.”

“You were protecting Nesta,” he said, pulling her hand away to kiss her palm. “I will never fault you for that.”

Elain nodded, clearing her throat as she seemed to collect herself. She turned to her husband, the famed Archeron steel flashing in her eyes.

“When I give the signal, grab the girl and go. Feyre will be in position to take her place should anyone care to look.”

“What is the signal?” Azriel said, eyes scanning the dais to ensure that Adan was still suitably occupied.

“You’ll know it when you see it,” Elain replied. “Stay out of sight until then.”

With a final smile tossed in Cassian’s direction she swept off, her sage gown adorned with burgundy rosettes so at odds with the darkness surrounding her. Between her gown and her beauty, the crowd parted easily for her as she made her way across the room to where Céres—Tamlin’s wife—stood beside him lost and somewhat lonely.

Tamlin remained deep in conversation with Tarquin as Céres wistfully studied the couples dancing, her face brightening as Elain came to loop an arm through hers. Elain made the proper greetings to both Tamlin and Tarquin before gently steering Céres away to take a lap about the room. Cassian felt for the girl as he watched her chatting animatedly to Elain, clearly grateful for someone to speak to at last.

Still, he couldn’t help but wonder what part Elain needed her play. He could tell—even without looking at him—that Azriel was thinking the same, though Elain didn’t leave them wondering for long.

Cassian caught sight of a familiar figure in the crowd as he tracked their progress around the room, and he couldn’t fight a sardonic smile as he watched Elain press a hand to her rounded belly and winced, understanding now what she intended.

Céres paused in just the right spot as Elain doubled over slightly in pain, reaching for Céres’s arm to steady herself as she seemed to recover. A second later Cassian watched, his heart beating nearly out of his chest, as Elain pretended to stumble, sending an unsuspecting Céres sprawling backwards—

And straight into Lazar.

Surprised, he grabbed her around the waist to keep her from falling to the floor, his attention fully diverted away from the female who remained glued to the spot when Cassian had first spotted her.

It was enough.

In an instant Azriel had disappeared from Cassian's side, reappearing as nothing more than a long shadow behind where the female stood, watching the exchange between Céres and Lazar with alarm. Cassian's heart thundered as her grabbed her by the wrist and they both vanished.

By now Tamlin was there, an abashed Céres scuttling behind him as he wrapped a protective arm around her and bared his teeth at the younger Illyrian.

"How dare you," Tamlin snarled.

Lazar put his hands up, bronze skin paling at the fangs Tamlin now had mere inches from his throat

"Please, High Lord, this is a misunderstanding!"

He looked somewhat helplessly to Rhys as he approached, hands tucked into the sable pants he wore under his floor-length velvet great coat.

"My Lord, please!" Lazar begged

Rhys clicked his tongue as he surveyed the scene with dispassion, crushed sapphire eyes glittering in the low light.

"Oh Lazar, you do like to make trouble, don't you?"

"I swear, My Lord, she fell into me!"

Tamlin snarled, the sound entirely ursine.

"You had your hands all over her!"

"Lazar, what's going on?"

Adan appeared at his cousin's side, subtly inserting himself between the Tamlin and the younger male. Cassian didn’t dare look to see where Nesta was.

"I'm afraid Lazar's found himself in a bit of trouble," Rhys purred, eyes glittering behind the mask of the cruel High Lord Cassian had seen him wear so many times before. "He seems rather good at that."

Cassian heard Rhys speaking in his mind, voice markedly less amused.

Azriel has her in the dungeon, last door on the left. Be discreet. Make sure you aren't seen, and don't be gone too long. I'll keep the Macarans distracted.

Cassian needed no prompting. Casting a final look to ensure the Illyrians were suitably occupied, he slipped into a shadow and out into the hall, trying to steel himself for what was coming next.

The trek down into the labyrinth of dungeons that coiled beneath the great hall felt like it lasted both an eternity and an instant, and Cassian felt himself—his sanity, his control—unspooling with every step he took.

Azriel had the female, and in mere minutes Cassian would finally know—

Cassian’s heart was in his throat as he pushed open the heavy wood door, making a deliberate show of closing it behind him before turning to face the room’s only two occupants. Azriel stood against the far wall with arms crossed, arctic fury glazing his eyes as he waited for Cassian to speak.

And in the center of the room, seated in a chair with hands and feet bound, was the female Cassian had spent the last three months turning the territory inside out to find.

She looked just as he’d remembered her: a curtain of blue-black hair, eyes dark as pitch and skin the bronze of the Northern climbs. The only thing that had changed was her expression. The morning after their—coupling, she’d first been content and then, seemingly, afraid, and Cassian often wondered what face she’d wear when he finally caught her. He’d expected smugness at what she’d managed to wrought for her Illyrian masters.

What he got instead was...devastation.

She wasn’t making a sound, but there were tears rolling down her cheeks, fresh ones welling in her eyes as she took in his thunderous expression. Somehow, they made him angrier than if she’d been arrogant, and he bared his teeth.

“Save your tears. I won’t be ensorceled by your treachery a second time.”

“Please,” she began, her voice devoid of the sensual husk she’d used on him before. “You don’t understand. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

Pain lanced through him at those words, the same ones he’d pleaded to Nesta so many times since this nightmare had begun. He’d lost a great deal of conviction as time had worn on and Nesta had drifted further and further out of his reach, but here now was the truth—long sought—sobbing in his face.

He crossed his arms over his chest.

“What’s your name?”

The female’s brows pulled together as if she meant to resist him by remaining silent, but when she caught the flash of True-Teller’s blade from the corner of her eye, she relented.

“Rabia.”

“Who sent you to Velaris, Rabia? Who told you where I’d be that day?”

The female shook her head, tears falling to soak the unadorned servant’s livery she wore.

“Please, it’s not what you think.”

“Speak plainly,” Azriel commanded. “If you cannot use your tongue, we’ll have no further use for it beyond supper for the hounds.”

“Please!” Rabia said a third time,straining at her bonds. “I didn’t have a choice!”

“Why not?” Cassian pressed. “You’re not Macaran; you’re not even Illyrian. Why do this for them?”

“For my son!” she burst.

This stopped Cassian in his tracks, some of the anger bleeding out of him. Even without Mor’s gift, he could tell from the look in Rabia’s eyes that she was telling the truth.

“What would the Illyrians care for one high fae child?” Azriel said.

“He’s half-Illyrian,” Rabia said. “And his father threatened to have him sent to the camp at Kaletaş if I didn’t help. I would never have been allowed to see him! Please, try to understand.”

Cassian and Azriel traded a look over the female’s head. Kaletaş was the Northernmost camp, and one famous for its brutality even among people undaunted by harsh measures.

“Who is his father?” Azriel said, peeling off the wall the circle the female. “He must be well-connected if he has the power to influence the Kaletaşi camp-leaders.”

Rabia winced as if the question had dealt her a physical blow.

“He’ll kill me,” she said, voice growing hoarse from her tears. “If he found out it was me who’d told you. He’ll kill me, and send Safet to Kaletaş. Please, he’s only ten. I’m all he has.”

“If the Macarans succeed in starting a civil war, your boy won’t stand a chance whether you are there to protect him or not,” Azriel snarled quietly. “Tell us who his father—“

“It’s Lazar,” Cassian said, watching as the remaining color drained from the female’s face. “Isn’t it?”

Her sobs began anew, trapped in her throat as she fought to master herself. Cassian wasn’t surprised. It was just the sort of cruel and foolish thing Lazar would do, using the mother of his child to achieve his selfish ends.

“It was a mistake,” Rabia breathed. “A horrible mistake, but by the time I realized it was too late; I was already pregnant. I tried to flee, but someone told Lazar I was with child and he dragged me back. We have been beholden to him ever since.”

“Why did he send you to Velaris? What did he tell you?”

“Nothing!”

Cassian bared his teeth, temperature rising again as she sputtered, fighting her bonds.

“He didn’t tell me why he wanted me to go,” Rabia said. “He just gave me orders and sent me South.”

“And what were your orders?” Azriel prompted.

Color flooded Rabia's cheeks even as she withered under Cassian’s unceasing stare. It was the question he’d dreaded to ask, even as every part of him strained to hear the answer. Rabia shook her head, and Azriel’s hand went to Truth-teller in warning.

“Speak,” he snarled.

The female bit her lip.

“To seduce the General.”

Cassian felt his axis tilting. It was the answer he’d been waiting for, been hoping for since he first began putting the puzzle together weeks ago. Still, the confirmation was a knife in the ribs. He felt sick when he remembered the score marks on his wings the next morning, the realization that Lazar had likely instructed her where to touch him in order to scent-mark him enough to drive him mad with humiliation and grief.

“And Adan? Was he in on this as well?” Azriel said.

Rabid shook her head, brows synched.

“I don’t know.”

“Do not lie to me.”

“I don’t know!” Rabia repeated with more conviction. “I’ve never even met the prince. If he is complicit in Lazar’s scheming, I have no knowledge of it.”

It was exactly what Cassian hadn’t wanted to hear. They still had no evidence Adan was involved, nor any to prove he was innocent either. And if he was innocent, what would it mean for his betrothal to Nesta? The idea was enough to make Cassian’s tomach roil, and he forced himself to focus on Rabia’s interrogation instead.

“I was sick for weeks after,” he said. “What did you give me?”

“I—“

The door boomed open as Nesta swept in, Mor on her heels. The latter eased the door shut and locked it behind them as Nesta’s blazing eyes took in the scene before her.

She looked every inch the commanding Şezhana in the resplendent ebony gown she wore, the conical gold combs in her hair resembling a corona of spikes. She stood completely motionless, the glimmer off the torchlight against the gems studding her bodice the only indication she was even still breathing.

Cassian’s heart became an exploding star in his chest, its force threatening to tear his soul from its mooring as he watched Nesta. He could see the exact moment Rabia’s scent hit her from the way her back when rigid, as if she could no longer feign indifference or miscomprehension. Finally, she turned her burning gaze on him. It was the first time she’d deigned to look at him full-on since this had all begun, and her beauty made his knees weak even now.

“What is this?” She said, hands forming into such tight fists that her knuckles had gone white.

“You know what this is,” he said.

He could hear her heart as it began to beat faster, her ribcage struggling to expand against the corset she wore. He longedto cut the damn thing off her so she could get a good breath, but he knew he had to stay where he was.

After a moment she looked at Azriel.

“Is it true?”

Azriel in turn faced Rabia, crossing arms across his chest.

“Tell her. Tell her what you told us.”

Rabia swallowed, voice thin when she finally spoke.

“I was sent to Velaris by Lazar to seduce the Lord Commander.”

“And if he couldn’t be swayed?” Azriel prompted.

The female bowed her head.

“I was given a tonic. I was told it would make him—pliant.”

“And was he?”

It was Mor, her voice hammered thin by a fury Cassian rarely saw from her.

Rabia looked around, eyes wide.

“Was he what?”

“Swayed. Were you successful in seducing him?”

Rabia’s throat worked, and that she settled for looking at Cassian and Azriel was a testament to the fear both Nesta and Mor managed to inspire.

“No,” she admitted. “I offered myself to him, but he—“

She broke off, trying to master herself.

“Speak,” Mor snarled.

Rabia swallowed a sob.

“He said he was flattered, but that he was in love with another female. That they were...” she made a sound that was half-sob, half-wretch. “That they were mates.”

Cassian felt dizzy. It was the first time any of them had formally acknowledged the word out loud, and it clanged through him with such violence that he felt for a moment he might be ill. He waited, breathless, for Nesta to deny the claim, but she didn’t, jaw set as Mor pressed, “So you drugged him, and had your way with him while he was too incapacitated to stop you, is that it?”

“No!” Rabia said. “I would never—“

“But you did!” Mor snarled, drawing a dagger from the folds of her gown and advancing on the still-bound Rabia with alarming speed. “Can you deny it? When he rejected your advance, you slipped something into his drink!”

Rabia sobbed.

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen!”

“What did you think was going to happen?” Mor said, teeth bared. “After you rap—“

“Enough, Mor,” Cassian said, not able to hear the next word said aloud. “You’ve made your point.”

“I’m just getting started,” Mor snarled, but then Azriel was there, slitting the bonds on Rabia’s hands and pushing her into Mor’s arms.

“Take her to Rhys,” he said. “Tell him to alter her memory and let her go; we can’t afford to let Lazar know we suspect him yet.”

Mor’s lip curled in disgust, but she took Rabia’s arm without further comment, dragging her from the room.

Cassian hardly noticed. His full attention was on Nesta, who was staring at him almost as if she’d never seen him before.

“I will leave you to talk,” Azriel said with a glance between them.

Before Cassian could think to reply, Az was gone and he and Nesta were alone.

For a minute they merely stood looking at each other, the silence deafening. Finally he couldn’t bear it, and Cassian broke.

“Nesta,” he began, advancing a step. “I’m sorry.”

Her only reply was several steps in the opposite direction. After everything they’d endured—that she’d been forced to endure—he wasn’t sure why it surprised him; he’d been foolish to think of few words from Rabia would undo all the hurt that festered between them. Still, he knew he’d never forgive himself if he didn’t at least try to explain.

“Please, Nes,” he said. “I—“

“Why are you sorry?” Nesta interrupted, voice clipped and cold.

His brows drew together, her sharp tone a freshly-whetted blade he knew she would use to carve out his heart even now, even knowing the truth.

“Because I failed you.”

Her expression grew stormy, and he wondered where things had gone so wrong that even now she still hated him. However, after a moment he watched the thunderhead raging in her grey eyes swell and erupt, her face melting into something sorrowful and stark.

“No,” she said, and he realized the tightness in her voice wasn’t anger—it was tears. ”It’s I who has failed you.”

“No, Nes—“

She held up a hand to ward him off when he chanced another step in her direction, several tears skidding down her cheeks as her lip trembled with the effort of maintaining her composure.

“I should have listened to you,” she whispered. “Why didn’t I listen?”

Cassian’s heart strained to near-bursting.

“It doesn’t matter now.”

Her brows synched as her anguish seemed to gain some ground on her composure. He knew that besides Elain and perhaps Feyre, he was the only one who’d ever seen Nesta Archeron so undone, and it was not a burden he took lightly.

“Of course it does,” she said, voice brittle but no less edged. “How can you stand to look at me knowing how I’ve wronged you?”

Cassian’s throat grew tight, everything he’d learned from Rabia coalescing with his missing Nesta to form a leaden knot in his stomach.

“Because I love you,” he said.

“I know,” she said, tears flowing freely now. “I know that now.”

Cassian’s eyes burned.

“Then please, won’t you let me hold you?”

Nesta let out a choked noise, eyes almost fearful as she looked up at him.

“I can’t.”

“Why not? Please Nesta, let me—” 

Nesta shook her head, arms wrapped around herself like she was afraid she’d physically fall apart.

“If I let myself near you, I will never find the strength to do what I have to.”

The words were a knife to the gut.

“You can’t mean to go through with the betrothal.”

Nesta bit her lip.

“What choice do I have?”

“We have proof—“

She shook her head, seeming somewhat resigned now.

“It’s not enough, and we both know it. If we truly mean to expose Lazar’s treachery, we must have hard evidence of his crimes.”

“And Adan?”

She flinched a bit at thename, though her back remained straight as she said through her tears, “perhaps Adan is my penance, for what I’ve put you through.”

Cassian couldn’t fight the tear that slipped out at that, at the blade Nesta had turned inward upon the realization she’d been wrong.

“You haven’t put me through anything I wouldn’t have gladly endured for your sake,” he said. “Please, don’t do this.”

She shook her head, jaw set despite the tears shining in her eyes.

“Our problem remains the same, Cassian. Unless we can prove the Macarans have ill intent, we risk civil war. I can’t put my sisters through that, not again. I have to—-“

Nesta covered her hand with her hand and began to sob, and it was a sound so stark in its grief and Cassian felt it tremble through every cell in his body.

Damning the consequences he dropped his shield, his consciousness racing down the bridge towards hers as he surged for her, just in time to catch her as she sagged to the floor.

He gathered her into his arms as she unraveled, her face buried in his neck as her whole body shook with the force of her tears.

“Forgive me,” she sobbed. “Please, say that you forgive me.”

Cassian coaxed her head from his shoulder, brushing the loose hair from her face as he gazed into her eyes.

“There is nothing to forgive, minu südame süda. None of this is your fault.”

Nesta’s eyes fell closed as she rested her cheek against his palm, even as her long nails dug into his arm.

“I will kill her for what she’s done to you. I will spike her head to the gates of this foul city, and Lazar’s alongside it. You have my word.”

He brushed away a tear skidding down the apple of her cheek.

“I would rather have your promise that you will not go back to Macar. Please, Nes. I’ve only just gotten you back. Do not ask me to send you away.”

She pulled his hand away from her face.

“You would go, if our places were reversed.”

“Not if you asked me to stay.”

Her gaze was steady but unyielding as she studied him.

“I know what beats in your heart; you cannot lie to me.”

He felt the pressure building behind his eyes at the realization she was right. He fended off a choked exhale as she reached forward to press a hand to his heart, gentle in a way he rarely imagined Nesta being.

“I must go, and you must let me.”

“And if it turns out to be only Lazar? If Adan is innocent in all this?”

A muscle feathered in her jaw.

“I don’t know.”

“You would be honor-bound by the kilhamine to marry him. He would steal you away to Macar, and we would never—“

Nesta shook her head, fingers brushing his lips in a silent command.

“Our path has never been easy, but still it’s always found a way to lead us back to one another. For now that must be enough.”

“Nes...”

“Te cакам,” she breathed.

Had Cassian not already been on the ground, his knees would have given out to hear her say it. He’d all but given up hope that he ever would.

He pressed his forehead to hers.

“I can’t lose you.”

“No,” she said, eyes fluttering closed. “You cannot, because I am already yours.”

There was a long pause in which neither of them spoke, and despite everything Cassian had longed to say to Nesta all these weeks alone, in that moment he knew there was nothing he needed to say that she didn’t already know.

He would have assumed it was the bond, but he realized it was nothing so complicated as any of that; it was simply the ease of two people who’d known and loved one another long enough not to need to speak to be mutually understood.

Instead Cassian reveled in her light, elegant scent and the softness of her skin as he breezed his thumb across her cheekbone. When she didn’t pull away from his touch he leaned a fraction closer, lips brushing the remaining tears from her cheeks before gravitating towards her mouth and hovering.

“Nesta,” he breathed, free hand tangling in the mass of curls coming unspooled from the heavy gold pins.

At her name she seemed to snap from her trance, pressing her fingers to his lips as she shook her head.

“I can’t,” she said. “We can’t.”

Mastering herself she pulled away, wiping her eyes as she struggled to her feet amidst the obsidian sea of her gown.

“I have to go. Adan will be suspicious.”

Cassian would be surprised at her composure but for the fact that Nesta seemed to possess strength beyond what the Mother had given other, lesser creatures. Even now with her gown rumpled and her eyes slightly red-rimmed, she was a pillar of steel.

“Go,” he said. “I will wait before following.”

Nesta nodded, though her lips tightened as she studied him with increased scrutiny.

“Promise me you’ll do nothing rash until we can speak with the others and formulate a plan for dealing with Lazar.”

Despite everything he found himself smiling weakly. He’d missed hearing his Nesta giving orders. However, the mirth faded at seeing her grave expression and the spectre of fear still shading her bright eyes.

“You have my word,” he said.

She nodded again, and he bowed his head as she turned to slip through the door. Even knowing why she had to leave, he didn’t think he could bear to watch her physically go, especially knowing who she was going back to.

“Cassian?”

Surprised, Cassian glanced up to see her still standing in the arched doorway, the torchlight dancing off the gems in her gown making her appear as if she were tongued in dark flame. Her brows drew together as they studied one another for a moment in silence. Finally, she continued, voice soft but resolute.

“I’m sorry for what she did to you. I understand you may need time to process or to grieve, but when you’re ready to speak, I will be here to listen.”

Cassian’s throat was instantly, unbearably tight, and all he could manage was a croaked, “I love you.”

She didn’t repeat the sentiment, but Cassian could feel echoes of it drifting down the bond between them as she gave him a final look and disappeared.

Cassian didn’t know how long he remained there in the dark after that, knowing there were a million things that needed tending to without being able to make himself do a single one. All he could think about was Rabia admitting she’d slipped a tonic in his drink, and Nesta saying ‘I love you’. Pain and joy coalesced, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or sob in weighing what he’d both lost and gained that evening.

In the end he found himself too fragile to do either, and he pushed them down instead, rising to his feet as he transformed from a heartbroken male to the General of the Night Court legions.

If he had to be patient to get his hands on Lazar, so be it; the wait would make his death all the sweeter. And if he had to wait for Nesta—he sighed, expelling a shaky breath before steeling himself and exiting the dungeon cell. If he had to wait a thousand years for Nesta, he would do it. For now he could only do his part and pray it wouldn’t come to that.

The morning after the welcome feast, Nesta found herself once again in her dressing room, though this time she wasn’t alone. She tried to ignore the faint echo of her pulse which buzzed in her ears, a symptom of stress she’d suffered from on and off since childhood. It had largely subsided the last fifty years, though it had begun to occur with more frequency since things had gone to pieces with Cassian. After what she’d learned the night before, it had been pounding non-stop, the ringing enough to nearly drive her mad.

It had been so loud and persistent when she’d first torn herself away from Cassian’s side and rejoined the feast that it had been difficult to hear anything being said as she fought to maintain some semblance of normalcy.

It had grown from a buzzing to a roar when she’d felt the slide of a warm, calloused hand at her elbow.

“There you are,” Adan had breathed in her ear, close enough that his lips nearly brushed the pointed tip. “I thought I’d lost you.”

It took a lifetime of unassailable self-restraint not to stiffen at the proprietary touch, especially as Adan continued, “come, dance with me.”

With that he’d slipped a hand around her waist, the other tucking behind his back as she brought her hand to his shoulder, the other going to keep her sea of skirts from underfoot. She wondered if he could hear her heart as they turned across the floor, other guests stepping out of their path as Adan maneuvered her with ease.

Adan had watched Nesta with curious scrutiny as they danced, but Nesta hadn’t been able to bring herself to smile at him as she perhaps should have. The female’s confession had still been ringing in her ears, fraying her sanity.

Cassian had been right; all this time he’d been telling her the truth, and she’d been too guarded and selfish to see the truth. And when she thought of what had been done to him in order to sow discord between them...

“Are you alright, prensesim?”

Nesta had forced herself to look at Adan, trying to mimic the guileless expression Elain used when she wished to feign sweet ignorance.

“Fine,” she’d said. “Only fatigued from the day’s festivities.”

“Perhaps you’ll allow me to escort you to your chambers, then.”

Nesta had glanced around for someone who might spare her from this fate, but finding no one she’d merely nodded. They ascended into the royal apartments in silence, and when they’d reached Nesta’s rooms she’d attempted a hasty kiss on the cheek as she bid Adan goodnight.

However, he’d gently caught at her hands, pressing her into the door as his soft lips found hers. Nesta had contemplated shoving him off considering everything she’d heard that evening. After all, this was a male who’d possibly been responsible for abusing Cassian, and that was enough to make Nesta want to gut him like a fish.

However, it was just as possible he was innocent, and they would need his support in punishing Lazar and breaking the engagement given that it had been made under false pretenses. With no proof of the former, she’d let him kiss her, even as she searched for a way to end it. If he was innocent, she didn’t want to be accused of fallaciously leading him on.

She’d been relieved when he’d pulled back, though the feeling was short-lived as he whispered, “I know I promised I would not force you, but may I come to you tonight after the city sleeps? I feel I will go mad if I cannot—”

“Nesta.”

The stricture in Nesta’s throat had loosened at seeing Elain, her smile benign but her doe-brown eyes flashing with a fire Nesta had been sure only she could see.

“Forgive me, I am interrupting?”

Adan had flushed at that, stepping back from Nesta and giving Elain a courtier’s bow. He’d then turned back to Nesta a final time, eyes full of yearning as he said, “Until tomorrow then, my princess.”

With that he’d disappeared, and Elain had pressed into Nesta’s arms, grip fierce.

“Azriel told me what happened,” Elain had said, touching Nesta’s cheek. “Are you alright?”

“I feel a monster,” Nesta had admitted. “I was wrong to doubt him.”

“No one blames you,” Elain had assured her. “Least of all Cassian.”

“I don’t believe you would have treated Azriel in such a manner, were our places reversed.”

“Don’t torture yourself, please. The good news is that you know the truth now, and we have a chance to stop all this before Lazar succeeds in whatever it is he’s planning. The others are waiting to discuss strategy. Would you—”

“I can’t,” Nesta had interrupted. “It’s all too raw.”

Elain had only nodded.

“We’ll speak before the ceremony tomorrow. Try to rest, my love.”

Nesta had nodded, Elain squeezing her hand a final time before turning to go.

“Elain? Please, tell Cassian…”

When she’d trailed off, Elain smiled.

“He already knows,” Elain had said. “But I will.”

Nesta had no further energy after that, and she’d slipped inside her room, staying only long enough to change into a more comfortable shift and slippers before summoning Nuala and asking she wake the tailor.

There was something Nesta needed done.

Now, sitting in her dressing room in the moonstone palace surrounded by the rest of her court, she felt more composed, though admittedly no less anxious inside.

Cassian had yet to arrive, but Rhysand, the Shadowsinger, the Morrigan, and both of her sisters were discussing their next move.

“We ought to use the girl to expose Lazar’s lies and be done with the whole affair,” Mor snarled from where she lounged on a nearby chaise. “This has gone on long enough.”

Azriel gave a dismissive sound from where he stood near the window, monitoring for unfriendly eyes and ears on the balcony beyond.

“Lazar will dismiss Rabia as a liar, and it will be her word against his.”

“So we force the truth out of him,” Mor said. “Between Rhys’s gift and mine, it would be over fairly quickly.”

“I tested them last night,” Rhysand said. “The Macarans mental defenses are impressive. Tunneling through would take more time than we have.”

“Besides,” Feyre added. “How will it look if the High Lord is caught trying to break into the minds of his vassals? We’d be facing the exact war we’ve been trying so hard to avoid.”

“Where does that leave us, then?” Elain asked.

“In the same place,” Nesta said tightly. “I must go forward with the kilhamine. I will use the time I have in Illyria between now and the wedding to discover proof of Lazar’s betrayal and determine whether Adan is involved as well.”

“If you fail, you’ll have no choice but to go through with the marriage,” Feyre pointed out in a soft voice. “You will be bound to Adan for the rest of your life, whether he is guilty or not.”

Nesta stiffened at the idea, even as she forced her shoulders back.

“It’s a risk we have to take. Cassian agrees.”

“This will be agony for him,” Mor said, tone edged with frost. “For you the bond will be easier to ignore, but for him it will be a physical and emotional torment now that you’ve acknowledged the claim.”

“There is no claim. He’s not some beast ruled only by primal instinct. He knows why I’m doing this, and that it does not change what lies between us, bond or no,” Nesta clipped.

“Does he?” Mor challenged.

“Yes. And I do not remember inviting you into our affairs, now or ever.”

“This decision doesn’t affect just you—”

“Mor, enough,” Rhysand cut in. “Nesta is right; this decision is between her and Cassian, and it is also the best one available to us right now.”

At this he turned to Nesta.

“Az and I will work on Lieutenant Na’ahmah while you are away. She seems an honorable female, and she’s in the prince’s confidence. It is possible she may know some of his secrets. At the very least, she’ll know where his skeletons are buried; it could be useful in scaring up proof.”

Nesta nodded, not wanting to discuss this any further. She knew in her gut that she was making the right choice in forging ahead with the kilhamine, but it didn’t make the idea of binding herself to a male other than Cassian—even temporarily—any easier.

“I need to get dressed,” she said in dismissal. “We can speak more after the ceremony; I don’t leave for Illyria until nightfall.”

The males and Morrigan—still looking displeased—nodded their understanding and filed out, leaving only the Archeron sisters.

“I can’t imagine how you’re feeling right now,” Feyre again. “But for what it’s worth, Nes, I’m proud of you.”

“Don’t be. I’ve made so many mistakes.”

“Who among us hasn’t?” Elain said. “That you would acknowledge them at all is a testament to your character.”

Nesta’s throat tightened at this, and not wanting to delve further she instead asked, “Have you seen him yet today? How—” she swallowed, fighting to keep her voice even. “How is he?”

“He went on patrol early this morning,” Feyre said. “I think he needed something to distract him from—” Feyre broke off to squeeze Nesta’s hand. “He promised he’d return before the ceremony began. I’m sure this will be his first stop.”

Nesta merely nodded at this, grateful for Nuala and Cerridwen as they appeared, the latter bearing a garmented wrapped in soft linen.

“We’ll leave you to it, then,” Elain said, smiling.

“Let us know if you need anything,” Feyre added with a kiss to Nesta’s cheek. “We will send Cassian to you the minute he returns.”

With that her sisters disappeared as well, and Nesta half-collapsed into the small divan in front of her vanity, taking a deep breath. It all seemed so much more dire now that she was alone.

She hadn’t had the courage to ask her sisters to stay. Despite the fact she knew they loved her, it was difficult to let herself be vulnerable with them. She was the eldest, and yet she’d failed to protect them in so many ways whether they were growing up. The least she could do for them now was remain composed, at least when they were around.

“Are you ready to begin, My Lady?” Nuala said, a hand resting on Nesta’s shoulder.

Her touch was cool even through the silk of Nesta’s dressing gown, and she found it oddly reassuring.

She nodded, and the twins began on her hair. For the ceremony it would remain unbound in the Illyrian custom, save for a portion at the top. Nuala and Cerridwen brushed out the conker mass of Nesta’s hair before coaxing curls into the ends and teasing volume into a section at the crown.

When it was finished they helped her into her restrictive undergarments and tightened her corset before unwrapping the package which lay on the bed.

“Straight from the dressmaker, My Lady,” Cerridwen said, pulling the gown from it’s bed of linen. “And just as you instructed.”

Nesta exhaled a shaking breath, coming forward to brush the silken skirt. Originally the gown had been white and studded with diamonds. An unusual choice for a kilhamine gown, or so she’d been told, though in the end it acceptable for the occasion. However, after what Nesta had learned of Cassian the night before, she’d been desperate for some way to show him what he still meant to her.

So she’d gone to Rhysand’s famed tailor, waking the ancient female to ask her that the gown be dyed cardinal and that the diamonds be replaced with rubies. The gnarled faerie had grumbled at the inconvenience at first, but something in Nesta’s expression must have convinced her because eventually she’d agreed, informing Nesta it would be ready in the morning before all but slamming the door in her face. Nesta had listened to the soft purr of the female’s magic as she began coaxing color into the gems one by one before retreating to her own room again.

Cardinal was the color most closely related to glory in Illyria and as such it would make an obvious choice for a kilhamine gown. However, Nesta had been sure to explain the exact shade she’d wanted, and seeing it now, she was not disappointed.

It was somehow richer than an ordinary red, and the color perfectly matched the slumberous flame of Cassian’s siphons. It was an ode Nesta was positive would not go unnoticed by those who knew where to look.

Nesta accepted a hand from Nuala as she stepped into the gown, fitted through the low-cut bust before billowing out at the hips. She tried not to fidget as the twins trussed up the army of satin buttons which formed an orderly line down the back.

She could hardly breathe by the time Cerridwen ushered her to sit at the vanity again, easing an elaborate headdress out of a box and placing it atop Nesta’s head before beginning to secure it in place.

A coronet of blood-red roses formed the base, each in perfect bloom. On top of the roses sat a complicated gold crown of sorts, a ruby set into the center, and jutting above it all was a halo of iridescent blue-black macaw feathers which glimmered in the soft light.

It was magnificent beyond measure, offering a beautiful counterpoint to her gown and ruby painted lips. Mutely she accepted a pair of plain good earrings which hung to her bare shoulders from Nuala before meeting her own gaze in the mirror.

She looked no less fierce than she had the day before, but she could acknowledge that she looked less sad. The road ahead still reached farther than she cared to admit, but somehow it felt a little less dark now that she knew the truth: that she was not as weak nor as unlovable as she’d feared.

There was a knock at the door as Nesta rose to her feet, a glance out the window telling her the sun was nearly set. Her heart was in her throat as she reached for the knob, though it sank as she opened it to find Rhysand waiting for her.

He opened his mouth to speak and she merely held up a hand.

“Spare me; I’m not in the mood for your games, Rhysand.”

Rhysand gave a sardonic smile, though she could see something more sincere lurking below it.

“I was merely going to tell you that you look beautiful.”

“I always look beautiful,” she snapped, needing the vitriol to provide her some sense of normalcy.

Rhysand chuckled.

“You look particularly beautiful then.”

When she sniffed, he added, “That color suits you greatly.”

She turned to glare at him for the jibe only to find the mirth had evaporated from his face.

“When did you decide to change it?”

“Last night. After I heard—”

He nodded, offering her his arm as they began the long descent to the great hall of the Hewn City.

“I’m sorry for what you’ve been forced to endure, Nesta. I know this must be difficult for you.”

“It’s Cassian who deserves your sympathy, not me.”

“And he has it,” Rhysand said, tugging her arm to halt her as he gently touched her chin. “But you were also deceived, and made to suffer for it. I know you don’t care for being fussed over, but know that you are allowed to grieve as well.”

Nesta gently brushed his hand away.

“When did you become so tolerable?” She said, beginning to walk again.

Rhysand laughed.

“I knew I would wear you down eventually, Nesta Archeron.”

“Don’t push it,” she warned.

Still, something warm had kindled in her chest, helping to fight off the darkness as they moved farther and farther into the belly of the beast. Soon enough they could hear the primal heartbeat of the bone drums, and Nesta felt her own heart’s rhythm falling into step, hammering so hard she was afraid her ribs would be bruised. The gown and her nerves made it difficult to breathe as they halted outside the large wrought-iron gates, the twisting metal meant to represent the scale body of some serpentine beast.

“Azriel will escort you down the aisle,” Rhysand explained, drawing her from her reverie. “But we have time, would you like me to wait—”

“No,” she interrupted. “I wish to be alone for a moment.”

“Alone” wasn’t what she meant and they both knew it, but it was clear from his expression Rhysand had decided against making a comment about it.

“As you wish,” he said, nodding. “Azriel will let you know when it’s time.”

She nodded, warring with the urge to ask where Cassian was. Still, she bit her tongue. If he needed time to gain his composure, she owed it to him without complaint; it was the least she could do.

Instead she found herself pacing back in front of the gates as the drums continued, accompanied now by Night Court strings meant to celebrate the High Lord’s mixed heritage. She couldn’t have said how much time had passed before she heard the rustle of wings and turned to face the Shadowsinger.

Except it wasn’t Azriel. It was Cassian, dressed in the same ornamental armor as the previous day, the same silver hoops strung through his ears.

She watched his throat work as he struggled to speak, and she waited, breathless.

“Nesta,” he said finally.

“I thought you wouldn’t come,” she admitted. “I would not have blamed you for wanting to stay away.”

“I could never stay away from you,” he said, though she noted he’d yet to come any closer. “Never.”

She nodded, glancing down at her velvet slippers.

“You changed your gown,” he said after a beat. “It’s lovely.”

“It’s for you,” she admitted.

Only with him had she ever felt safe enough to be so vulnerable, and it was a relief to know she still knew how after what they’d been through.

His syphons pulsed dully in response, as if the admission had awoken something in his very power. When he didn’t respond beyond that, Nesta forced herself a step forward.

“How are you?”

He exhaled a shaky breath.

“I would be better were this our kilhamine, and I were waiting for you at the end of that aisle instead of Adan.”

It was a thought she’d spent all day trying to avoid, and hearing him say it out loud made her heart ache.

“I may say the words to Adan, but my vows will be to you.”

Inside the hall the drums seemed to intensify, and Nesta felt the time between them slipping away like sand through an hourglass.

“I’m sorry I did not believe you when I had the chance. Perhaps if I had—” she could hear the tears in her own voice, even knowing she couldn’t let them escape.

Cassian only shook his head.

“I would forgive you anything,” he said. “And in this case there is nothing to forgive. I only ask now that you don’t give up on me.”

“I could never,” she said in a hoarse whisper. “Even in my darkest rage I could not hate you the way I longed to.”

The drums changed again, growing more rhythmic. Nesta and Cassian seemed to realize at the same moment they’d run out of time, and in an instant he was there, crushing Nesta against the wall as he kissed her. She strung an arm around his neck to pull him closer and he lifted her nearly off her feet, his tongue brushing hers as he slid his leg between her thighs to keep her upright. Even that slight touch was enough to set her body on fire, and she moaned softly into his mouth.

“Nes,” he groaned, winging flaring slightly as she pressed closer, her breast flush against his chest. “Nesta.”

Her fingers dug into leathers as he moved to her neck, lips brushing the first spot on her body he’d ever touched. She forgot everything but him as he grazed her pulse point with his teeth. A primal fae part of her wanted him to sink them into her flesh in a claiming mark, even knowing such a thing would be damning giveaway—

“Cassian.”

The muscles in Cassian’s back stiffened at hearing Azriel’s voice, but after a breath he gently extricated himself from her embrace, easing her back to the floor and smoothing her rumpled gown.

“You’re needed in the great hall,” Azriel said. “People have begun to take note of your absence.”

Cassian nodded before turning back to Nesta, pressing his forehead to hers.

“I love you,” he said quietly.

“Cassian, now,” Azriel prompted, and as Cassian made to leave, the Shadowsinger caught his arm. “And take more care the next time. Anyone could have seen you two just now.”

Cassian didn’t offer a retort, just gave Nesta a last lingering look before disappearing down the hall towards the ball door into the great hall.

She felt hollowed out in his absence, her legs wobbling like a fawn’s as she fought to keep herself composed after his touch had threatened to undo her.

She was grateful at least that Azriel didn’t seem inclined to comment, and after several steadying breaths she accepted his proffered arm. As with the day before, her gown was heavy and unwieldy, and her corset tight enough that every step was an effort.

She found her breaths growing shorter and shorter as the gates groaned open, and she began to fear she might faint if her corset wasn’t loosened.

However, after a moment she felt an invisible shield of air forming around her nose and mouth, allowing her to take in her own oxygen.

“You’re having a panic attack,” Azriel whispered from her side. “I know it’s difficult, but take deep breaths and try to relax.”

Nesta might have snapped back at him where she not under such duress, but instead she simply did as he instructed, taking in great lungfuls of the cool, cedar-tinted air and blowing it out of her mouth as the gates yawned open and they started up the aisle under the watchful eyes of several hundred guests. At first Nesta tried to focus her attention on Adan, but she quickly found it only had the panic rising in her chest. After struggling once again to regain control, she let her eyes settle on Cassian instead.

It was like a dagger to the heart seeing him there, standing up and to the left of where he should have been, at the middle of the dais waiting for her. However, it was a pain Nesta welcomed, because it at least served as a reminder that this was real and not some fever dream born of loneliness and despair.

Cassian’s expression remained impassive as she made her way to the dais, but when his lips moved almost imperceptibly she knew what he was saying.

Te cакам. I love you.

She didn’t dare acknowledge the sentiment with even a nod, reaching instead to smooth the cardinal silk of her gown. His eyes glittered at the gesture, and though it wasn’t enough to fill Nesta’s aching heart, for now she let it be enough.

She was close enough to the dais now that she let her gaze drift to Adan. He looked as beautiful as she’d even seen him, the livery collar of syphons draped across his broad chest glittering the same color as his dark eyes. She studied him—his posture and the pair of ornamental curved blades hanging at either hip—and wondered for the hundredth time if she could trust him. Perhaps he was innocent in all this, and she could trust him to break the engagement without scandal or conflict once proof of his cousin’s treachery was unveiled. Or perhaps he’d orchestrated the whole affair, and they would end up with a civil war before the decade was out. Nesta hated herself for her selfishness, but what she feared more than war was marrying Adan, whether he was guilty or not.

Her knees nearly buckled under the weight of Adan’s gaze as he watched her make her way up the aisle towards him, the silk of her gown hissing like a serpent as it dragged on the stone floor. He was smiling, his gaze still soft with reverence , but she could see the eagerness as well—the desire to possess that ran deep in the Illyrian male blood.

She would be his.

Perhaps not forever, if things went according to plan, but at least while they were bound by this betrothal, some part of her—of her freedom—would belong to Adan. The thought was enough to make her mouth water with impending bile as she made her way closer.

She could feel Rhysand eying her as she stepped onto the dais, Azriel melting from her side and taking his rightful place at the High Lord’s left. Unable to help herself, she glanced up at Rhysand .He was as resplendent as ever, having donned his crown of ravens’ wings whose glinting gems matched the sparkling in his mesmerizing blue eyes. There was a knowing in his gaze as he studied her, expression neutral but gaze keen.

I am different because I know what you’d be sacrificing,, he’d said to her in Illyria. I know what it is to cede your power, to bed and obey someone who you don’t love.

Is that what this was, a concession? It was hard to let herself believe so, especially if arrangement turned out to be temporary. Still, some part of her couldn’t deny what she stood to lose.

You’re mine, Adan had told her in the nightmare she’d once had about him. Unless proof of his complicity could be unearthed, he’d been right: she would be his, and it wouldn’t just be for a few months.

It would be for eternity.

Nesta’s pulse had begun to buzz in her ears again as she accepted Adan’s hand, so loud now that she couldn’t hear Rhysand’s words as he addressed the assembly and offered his blessing to the union.

She could do this, Nesta reminded herself as Rhysand wrapped the customary silk around her and Adan’s wrists.

For Feyre, and Elain, and the baby. For peace in the realm and a respite from war and death.

It was the same refrain she’d played for herself the previous day, though it had begun to wear thin as her courage waned at the silk being tightened to signify the bond of the kilhamine.

So she added a final name, one she hadn’t dared to include before, even as it had haunted her every thought.

For Cassian.

For the life they may yet share. Despite the pain the truth had brought, Nesta felt hope—long dormant—swelling in her chest. Cassian was hers and she is, and she would find the truth and set them both free.

Her gaze slid to Lazar over Adan’s shoulder, his smile overripe with self-satisfaction.

Forcing all her remaining steel into her expression, Nesta met his eyes.

You will not win, she vowed to herself. You may be winning now, but I will see you laid low before the end.

She felt an echo of what felt like agreement resonate through her with surprising warmth, and she knew it must have been the bond. She was not alone, she reminded herself as she focused on Adan again. No matter the road she had to travel going forward, no matter how narrow or how steep, Nesta was not alone.

And neither was she powerless.

She was the heir of the dreaded Cauldron and the mate of one of the most powerful Illyrians ever born, and she’d come at last to see justice done. And not Adan, nor Lazar, nor the Mother herself would be able to stop her.

She was Nesta Archeron, acolyte of Death, and she was about to be unleashed.

Next Time on Like a Lonely House…

Lieutenant Na’ahmah stiffened.

“You wish me to betray my prince’s confidence, is that it?”

Rhys shifted in his seat, gaze steady.

“I wish to know where there is cancer in Illyria so that I may cut it out before it spreads. I am not accusing your prince of anything, merely asking the question.”

“You speak of Illyrians as if you are not one of us.”

Rhys shrugged.

“I am only half-Illyrian, and I have faced my fair share of prejudice for that fact. You will forgive me if I lack your ardent patriotism, admirable though it may be.”

A muscle feathered in the lieutenant’s jaw, but she otherwise remained silent.

“Have you something to add, Na’ahmah?’

She shifted on her feet, wings rustling.

“May I speak freely, My Lord?”

Rhys’s eyebrows rose.

“Of course. Always.”

Na’ahmah nodded, glancing down at her polished boots as if to compose herself before looking Rhys straight in the eyes.

“Also long as you consider Illyria to be brutal and backwards, it will be. And every time you treat us like savages, you support those who seek to uphold the old ways and silence those who would see things change. Adan is a bright light after centuries of darkness, and he would sooner destroy himself than see Illyria harmed.”

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POST SCRIPT: I don’t often include links to the clothing or character references I use because I think it undercuts my story-telling ability if I simply post links to the things I describe. HOWEVER, the reference for the headdress Nesta wears is SO divine you simply have to see it, so click the link to see this gorgeous kinaree headdress with macaw feathers from a vendor called SerpentFeathers. You will not be disappointed.

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