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missbrightsky · 4 years

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I didn’t know where else to go

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Chapter 3: Feyre

The first thing that came back to me was pain. Dull, throbbing pain everywhere. Deep in my muscles and throughout my head. I couldn’t tell if it was the possible mild concussion or the hangover that made opening my eyes so hard.

A hangover.

I forced my eyes all the way open, wincing back from the bright light that forced its way through the curtains. My movement had me pressing into something warm and large that tightened its grip on me.

That thing was Rhysand fucking Noc.

I slept with Rhysand fucking Noc. The crime boss I was currently trying to put behind bars for life.

And it was the best sex of my life.

Fuck.

He mumbled something in his sleepy state, somehow pulling me even closer when there was already no space between us. His breath fanned over my neck, sending shivers that traveled down my body into my core. Shivers that woke him up just barely.

“Good morning, darling, did you sleep well?” he managed to get out, voice rough from last night activities.

I froze, my brain unable to make me move or think or breathe.

He felt me go still and shifted so that he was leaning over me, balancing on his forearms. The pressure he exerted on me finally went away, my bruises sang and protested at the lack of contact. I finally returned to my body, air whooshing out of my lungs.

If I had morning breath, he showed no sign of noticing it, and that was enough to set me off.

How dare he look so damn good in the morning?

How dare he take care of me in my injured state?

How dare he.

Even though you were the one to show up on his doorstep last night.

To shove that thought away, I took it out on him. My self-defense training took over, wrapping one leg to hook behind his knee.

His eyes sparked with violet fire, leaning down in response to what he thought was me trying to pull him closer.

In actuality, I was about to flip him on his ass.

Just before his lips met mine, I placed my hands on his shoulders and bucked my hips up, throwing his balance to the left so that I was able to land him flat on his back with me holding him down. He might have had several inches on me, but I had years of training against guys twice my size. It was almost too easy to keep him pinned down; bewildered eyes boring into mine.

The words “I’m leaving” were on the tip of my tongue and promptly died there when I realized that we were both completely naked. A flush burned its way across my face and down my neck when I felt him twitch under me. At least he had the decency to look mildly embarrassed at their compromised conditions.

Not trusting myself to stay on task, I climbed off of him and turned my back, searching the room for my clothes. When I felt a hand graze my neck, I launched myself on the edge and practically sprinted to the bathroom, grabbing clothes as I went.

The door slammed shut behind me, I twisted the lock for a good measure and held my breath. There was no sound of movement from the other side, I slowly released it and dropped my clothes on the counter, assessing what I had managed to grab.

It was not a pretty or comforting sight; my underwear and bloodied shirt was all that was in the room. Which means that I had been drunk enough last night to strip elsewhere until we made it to the bed.

Lucien was going to have this carved onto my gravestone when I died of my captain skinning me over this. I’ve had my fair share of awkward morning afters but this one really took the cake.

“Feyre? Can we just talk?” came his voice. It sounded distressed but I tried not to read into it too much.

“I left some clean clothes on the bed that I think will fit, I’ll be downstairs.”

I waited until I heard his footsteps retreat and thump down the stairs. I released the breath I had been holding. I needed to stop before I passed out and bring on a whole other mess.

Forcing myself to breathe evenly through my nose, I cracked the door open and peeked out the make sure he had truly gone.

He had laid a soft old t-shirt and sweats, both being too big for me but it was better than walking around half-naked while collecting the rest of my clothing.

I tied the sweats as tightly as possible to stop them from slipping and began to creep down the hallway and stairs. If he was distracted and if I was careful enough, I could get past him and from there I would be home free.

He was in the kitchen facing away from me, messing with something by the stove, the smell of coffee, bacon, and toast made my stomach growl, my own body giving my position away.

My mind ran through every curse word I knew, none of them strong enough for the situation.

Rhys had at least thrown on pants but neglected to put on a shirt. Tattoos that I had somehow forgotten about flowed up and over his shoulders. Delicate red lines crisscrossed his back, the spacing exactly matching my fingers.

I fucking scratched him.

What the fuck is wrong with me.

I need to get out of here now.

I started to turn towards the living room, hoping there was still a chance to make a clean getaway when his voice washed over me.

“I’m not who you think I am, Feyre.”

It sounded tired, exhausted, world-weary. Like he had seen too much and never got the rest he deserved.

I turned back to him, analyzing his posture. He stayed facing away from me, hands braced on the counter, head bowed as if a great weight rested on his shoulders. Like a fallen angel that you saw painted on church ceilings.

“What do you know about me?” he continued.

I hesitated, caught between wanting to know what he meant and getting out of there. Curiosity took over, driving my feet forward to the kitchen.

“Rhysand Noc. Thirty-two. Head of the Veritas Crime Syndicate. Street name: Lord of the Night.” I had repeated this information every time at countless briefings, his profile was burned into my memory. His frustratingly blank profile.

“Your second in command is Amren Monsea, followed by Morrigan Solis. Cassian Noc and Azriel Noc are your adopted brothers, they train your men and generally do your dirty work.” And that was the end of what I knew, it was impossible to get information out of anyone, what they had came to them by common knowledge and pure luck. His men were ridiculously tight-lipped and loyal, making us ask what the fuck they were so loyal to.

“And why do you think I’m a criminal? Why do you think I do what I do?”

The words were hard to admit, “I don’t know.”

He released a sigh of his own, finally turning towards me. I forced my eyes to stay on his face, trying to read the emotions in it and not get distracted by how the tattoos continued down his chest. I knew I would never be able to get them out of my head until I painted or at least sketched them. Another piece of cannon fodder for Lucien.

“All of that is right, except that Amren and Mor are family too, Cas and Az are the only on paper ones.”

“Oh,” was all I could say. He handed me a cup of coffee and gestured to the cream and sugar that was on the counter next to me. Once I had fixed it to my liking, I took a seat at one of the barstools by the sink, putting a counter between us. It was easier to distance myself from him so that I wouldn’t get too caught up in his story.

“I’m not from Velaris, if my accent wasn’t any indication. Me and my family come from a small country across the world,” then quietly, “it doesn’t exist anymore.

“My parents were very private people, wealthy enough that my brothers and I never had to worry about anything. Mor is my cousin on my fathers’ side, Amren is some distant aunt but she’s always been around. Every childhood has its problems, but for the most part, I was happy. We were all… happy.” The sadness in his voice twisted my heart, making me dread what was coming next.

“It all started out very small, random attacks in towns on the border. We knew we were surrounded by warring countries, but they rarely bothered us. But then people started getting sick, a disease that none of our doctors had ever heard of. It killed so many so fast, our government worked to keep it from the outside world, afraid that the other countries would take advantage of our weakness but also afraid of it spreading across the globe. Through harsh military force, we sealed our borders and tried to let the disease run its course.

“Our researchers did their best to find a cure or vaccine, but it was just too devastating of a disease.”

A deep breath racked his chest.

“One night, my parents rushed into my room, demanding me to pack only the necessities. My mother went to my brothers’ rooms, asking the same of them. My father stayed behind, and as he helped me pack, he explained what was really going on in the country.

“Even though he was not involved in politics, he had several friends that were. They were all saying that the attacks were not random and that the disease was a bioweapon. A high ranking official named Amarantha from a warring country had set her sights on ours.

“She was determined to bring us to our knees and then annex our country into hers. It was some bullshit vendetta passed down in her family. She was cutthroat, bloodthirsty, driven almost to madness by her mission. She staged a coup within our government so that she could easily swoop in to take over.

“It was that night that the coup was happening, there was bloodshed in the streets and fires breaking out, it was chaos. My father said that Amren was taking me, my brothers and Mor out of the country, to somewhere safe. I didn’t understand why he and my mother weren’t coming with us, I still don’t to this day.

“The last time I saw them was through a darkened car window as we drove toward the border, away from my collapsing country. I was 15.”

Tears burned in the back of my eyes, but I was determined to not let them fall. His tragic backstory did not absolve him of the crimes that he committed in my city.

The story wasn’t over yet. “Somehow, Amarantha managed to keep the whole ordeal quiet to the world news, only a few statements saying that they had peacefully absorbed my country into hers due to unstable economic conditions. Everyone forgot about it and moved onto the next piece of gossip.

“Me and my surviving family never forgot. Mor’s parents and mine managed to transfer the majority of their wealth to outside shell companies so that we would be able to continue to live in ease. Amren had all of our names legally changed so that no one would come hunting us from escaping Amarantha’s wrath. That’s why you can’t find any official records on us, they’re either all buried back in my home country or you don’t know the name that you’re looking for.”

A twinge of frustration plucked at my nerves, of course a crime boss wouldn’t use their real name.

“This still doesn’t explain why you’ve been kidnapping people and raiding warehouses,” I accused, trying to stay in my detective mindset.

“A year ago, I got word that she was in Velaris, that she had set her sights on taking this city and then the country. That’s when my family and I decided that we would come here and fight back. We knew that the police and government wouldn’t believe a small group of rich people, especially when they came out of nowhere from a country that no longer exists. History had forgotten us, but we haven’t forgotten what she did.

“Our money made it easy to establish a foothold in the underworld and gain supply lines there. We want to try and avoid all-out bloodshed but we’re preparing for the worst. The people that we have taken are researchers in immunology, disease control, and drug development, all top in their field. They are being cared for in a safe facility, they aren’t too happy about it but some of them were quite excited by the challenge of a new disease.” A small chuckle broke through his serious demeanor. “We have them trying to find a cure and/or a vaccine but it’s slow going right now.”

“The warehouses we were raiding was us looking for any supplies we thought she was shipping in for preparation. We did manage to find some crates of weapons but nothing that indicated she was preparing for a bioattack, and that’s somehow more troubling.

“The past few months you’ve been after us have made it hard to move around, so I’ll give you that. You’re a good detective by the way.”

“Thanks, but it seems I’ve somehow been doing a shitty job of it.”

“Don’t get yourself too down, you were good enough to get the whole story in the past few minutes, I’d say that’s pretty impressive.”

“Yeah by showing up bloody and then sleeping with you,” I blurted. Whoops.

He flushed at the reminder, looking away. “Well I hope it wasn’t completely insufferable for you to do your civic duty then,” he muttered, almost sounding upset at the thought that he got used for information.

Fuck, “It was far from the worst night of my life, I’ll give you that,” I admitted. His earnest retelling somehow made me too honest for my own liking. I needed to get out of his radius before I did something stupid again.

He gave a faint smile at my statement, looking slightly redeemed.

“Anytime, darling,” he teased, trying to shake off the awkward silence that was settling around us like a heavy blanket.

I let out a small, exasperated sigh at the nickname, looks like it wasn’t going away anytime soon. I stayed silent, absorbing the new information while he turned back to the stove, putting on more bacon to fry.

I wasn’t about to stick around to have morning after breakfast with my enemy who was maybe no longer my enemy, I’ll have to figure that out soon before it drove me insane.

Spotting my pants draped over the coffee table (ugh), I padded over to pick them up in which revealed my bra (shit) and then, in turn, revealed my phone (fuck). It thankfully still had some battery in it, the screen flashing with 12 text messages and 3 missed calls from Lucien.

Running late today, huh?

Captain’s not here yet so you might get away with it.

Never mind he just showed up.

Hey if you’re getting coffee, grab me a white mocha?

Feyre? You ok?

Missed call.

Are you sick today? I know you stayed late at the office.

The desk sergeant said you only an hour after me, where did you go?

Missed call.

Oooooo captain is getting angry, hurry your ass up, I don’t want to deal with him.

Seriously tho, where did you go last night?

Oh some hot date you want to surprise me with?

Missed call.

If you don’t call me back in the next 10 minutes, I’m putting an APB out on you.

That last one was from 9 minutes ago. I pressed the call button, he answered on the second ring.

“There you are! Where the fuck are you?”

“Hey Luc, it’s been a rough night. I’ll explain to you when I get to the precinct.”

“Uh-huh, ok, well you don’t have to tell me.”

“I’m serious, I’ll be there in less than an hour, I need to go home, shower and change.”

“So you DID have a hot date last night, knew it.”

I cringed, looking over to where Rhys was trying very hard to look like he was not listening.

“Something like that, look I gotta go, I’ll deal with the captain when I get back.”

“Whatever you say, see you soon.”

He ended the call and the screen went black, there went the rest of the battery.

“I need to leave.”

“Ok, you can borrow the shirt, unless you want to take the subway in the bloody one,” he teased.

I narrowed my eyes at him, not really in the mood to be poked at when I was already in so much trouble.

“Sure, thank you.”

I gathered up my belongings to go change. When I came back down, he had wrapped some bacon and toast in foil so I can eat it along the way. Considerate motherfucker.

“So, are you going to help me?”

I paused, shocked at his question.

“What,” I whispered.

“Are you going to help me stop Amarantha?”

I took him in, looking for any hint of anything other the sincerity, and found none. Every logical part of my brain said no, to not believe what he had told me and to haul him in over the confession. He had given me enough to hold him on until I had a warrant to search his place. I know that some of those guns on the wall weren’t legal in Prythian.

But I couldn’t say no. The threat of her was too great, even if he was making it all up. If I stayed close to him, I could gather evidence to arrest him if he was lying. I was smart enough to stay safe, as long as I didn’t get drunk and sleep with him again.

“Yes. I’ll help you take down Amarantha.”

Next Chapter

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #sjm #sjmaas #sjmaas books #sarah j maas #feyre #feyre x rhysand #rhysand

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purge-that-urge-rhackathon · 5 years

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Dangerously Yours

The Jack-in-rut fic no one asked for and that I’ve had shelved for over two years xD So this is actually the companion fic to I Never Agreed to This, set in the same AU, but you definitely don’t have to read that story first to read this one. :) And with this fic, I have officially broken 1 million words in under 4 years AWW YISSS pry this ship and this fandom from my cold dead fucking hands.

Also on ao3 here. My archive list of bullshit I write can be found here :)

Rhys was typing up some things from several departments into one comprehensive report at his desk, appreciating the silence in the CEO’s office; indicative that he and Jack were both hard at work.

Just a little bit more and a seriously trying day would be all tied up.

Suddenly Jack was behind him, chin in his neck, and arms around Rhys' shoulders. The omega was surprised but grinned as he angled a look at the older man weighing him down. Unexpected, but not unwelcome. He’d been working too hard indeed. "Need a break?"

Jack just inhaled and pressed his nose further into the younger man's skin with a tired hum of the omega’s name. Rhys patted Jack's arms with his, wrapping fingers around one of Jack’s wrists with a knowing smirk back at the alpha.

"You wanna get dinner and watch a movie tonight?"

"Sounds like a good start." Jack draped himself over the younger man, dragging a hand down Rhys' torso to rest at the omega’s belt. He nibbled a love bite against Rhys’ neck as his hand pawed at Rhys’ crotch. It got an amused huff out of the younger man and an answering smile against Rhys’ skin.

"Anything I can help you with, mister CEO?"

The alpha murmured appreciatively as Rhys’ fingers moved playfully up and down his forearm, enticing the older man. Truthfully they were both overdue for a break. One involving a little more to it than just coffee.

Jack smirked lewdly, a wicked sparkle in his eyes. "What do you got in mind, pumpkin?"

Jack let go of him as Rhys spun around in his chair. The younger man grinned with pleasant surprise as his eyes fell on Jack's already-tented pants, and he leaned back to appreciate the sight of his mate a moment before settling his hands on Jack’s hips.

That was as welcome a sight as ever to the tedium of department invoice approvals. He wasn’t about to question his good luck, and eyed the older man hungrily.

"Well well," Rhys said with a grin as he hooked his thumbs into the loops on Jack's pants and brought him closer. His eyes were on the bulge in the older man’s pants, and he licked his lips in thought, not looking at Jack. "The things I could do with you..."

"The Vice President needs a little R&R, baby."

Rhys rolled his eyes. "I really wish you wouldn't call your dick that."

Jack was laughing as Rhys was already undoing his buckle and zipper. The alpha sighed at the release from the confines and pressure of his pants as his tented underwear stuck out impatiently towards Rhys. The omega ran his hands up and down Jack's thighs, thumbs tracing up the inseam with light teasing. Jack gave Rhys’ hair a fond tug that made the omega snort.

"You've been working too hard, Jack."

The alpha snorted. "That's obvious, cupcake. My pretty mate is sitting here all gorgeous and ignoring me. Why do you think I came over here?”

Rhys laughed as he moved his hands up Jack's hips to work his pants a bit down his thighs. The lick of his lips did not go unnoticed by the CEO, who uttered a low growl of appreciation in the back of his throat. The omega stroked the skin beneath the elastic band with a smile, pausing in the freeing of his cock with a teasing edge. "Any special requests, handsome?"

Jack's hands had been messing with Rhys' hair, but he took Rhys’ chin in his hand and brushed a thumb over the omega’s grinning lips. Blue and green eyes met blue and brown, and Rhys took Jack's hand and sucked the alpha's thumb into his mouth. Jack groaned perhaps a bit louder than Rhys might have initially expected, but the younger man was only spurred on. The alpha must have been pent up indeed.

"Have a seat, sir," Rhys said cheekily as he vacated his own chair.

"Don't start with that shit, kitten,” Jack warned as he settled down, the chair warm with the omega’s welcoming scent and body heat as they switched places.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Rhys’ grin attested to the exact opposite.

Jack was leaning back in the chair, palming himself with a roll of his eyes. "You might think it's funny as hell but it doesn't exactly help my image to get a boner every time some peon addresses me as 'sir'. Quit laughing."

"Yes sir," Rhys told him cheekily as he got to his knees between the CEO’s legs.

Jack growled at him and the omega batted his hands away from his pants as he freed Jack's cock from its confines. He gave a few firm strokes while Jack leaned back with a pleased sigh, his tip already leaking. This was just what he needed.

"You are extra pent up today, handsome."

Jack stroked a thumb over Rhys forearm, eyes on the progress of the omega’s hand over his cock. "You don't even know, sugar. Been needin’ you all day.”

Rhys smirked and got to work properly, licking at the man's cockhead before taking him shallowly into his mouth. Jack moaned and carded fingers through Rhys' hair, blunt nails lightly scratching at his scalp and getting a pleased purr from the omega in response. The sound had Jack moaning anew with the rumble around his cock.

Rhys was a little surprised by how quickly Jack came, though he chalked that up to working way too damn hard. He swallowed around the older man and really gave him a good and proper cockworshipping before Jack was pulling him into his lap with a growl of appreciation.

“Damn baby, I really needed that.” Jack cuddled him close and grabbed the younger man’s chin to fit their mouths together. The taste of his own finish on his omega’s tongue made Jack practically purr, and he scented up and down Rhys’ throat and the back of his neck while the younger man squirmed in his lap.

He would have liked to spend more time scenting the younger man if Rhys’ impatient whines to come-- please, Jack, come ooon- didn’t take priority. The older man chuckled before finally freeing the omega’s cock from his pants, and a few quick and dirty strokes had the younger man coming over his hand. Jack wiped the release onto Rhys’ pant leg without a second thought, nuzzling his neck and holding him tight.

“These were my good pants,” the omega whined, though he felt too good to really complain properly. They'd both needed that, prior stress now gone.

“I’ll buy you new ones Rhysiecakes,” the alpha purred.

Rhys huffed, but nothing to do about it now. Looks like he'd be leaving the office with his briefcase over his legs again.

One would think that by now he’d be keeping extra pairs of pants in his desk.

Rhys was sitting next to Jack taking notes the next day as they listened to reports from various outposts on Pandora.

Weapons distribution was going smoothly and sales were sky-high these few months following new product release; more or less a circle jerk meeting of ego-stroking for the sales department and a money-boner for Jack. It was easy though compared to R&D so Rhys counted his blessings and mostly zoned out unless needed.

An alpha handed her report to Rhys as she finished her presentation, as per usual conduct, and when the omega took it with the perfunctory polite smile, Jack lunged forward out of his chair and threw both hands down on the desk in front of Rhys.

The quick motion and surge of possessiveness through their bond made Rhys jump. The startled alpha before him immediately leapt back with a noise as everyone was giving Jack cautious, alarmed looks, waiting for someone to be shot. It wasn’t clear what the trespass here had been, or what had set the CEO off, and those still sitting down worried about the state of their paperwork and tablets before them perhaps being insulting to the alpha.

Rhys put his hand on Jack's forearm as the alpha lowly growled at the room in general, then turned his attention to the omega at his side. The 'what the hell?' look Rhys was giving him had the older man settling back into his seat with a grumble, telling the room to continue with a snarl as if he hadn't just wanted to tear into the other alpha.

To their credit, the others continued on with their own findings and reports, although somewhat cautiously keeping their distance from the CEO and his mate, and Rhys just looked over the report in his hands while trying to find what inside the document had angered Jack.

His eye reported that the collective heart rates in the room were a bit faster than normal, and it was maybe cooler in the room than the halls, but that wasn’t even noteworthy. His eye provided that Jack was a degree or two hotter than normal and his testosterone levels were high, but Rhys wasn’t sure what the alpha’s norm was to even do anything with such information. Jack had always been a real alpha’s alpha, and aggressive as hell. It wouldn’t surprise the omega if the older man was an outlier on what was considered normal for alphas. Maybe he was just in a mood.

There was banter some time later when one head's reports conflicted with another, one beta growling at the other that accused him, and Rhys chose that moment to put his palm over the possessive hand Jack had had on his thigh for some time now.

It got the CEO’s attention, a bemused look while his inferiors argued amongst themselves. Rhys could feel a wave of fondness hit him through the bond, warm and comforting and possessive at the same time, and he gave Jack a puzzled expression. "You okay?" he mouthed silently. Jack just offered him a grin and a reassuring pat to his thigh, taking Rhys' hand in his own.

"You two idiots shut up," Jack addressed the betas arguing over data. "Were there any losses?"

An outpost had been taken over by bandits- not a huge loss but still a good warning for the company. They should do something about that; that much they agreed upon.

“Then beef up armed escorts, and use the prototypes to establish a wider safety zone. What am I paying these idiots for if I have to think up ideas for them?” Jack asked Rhys rhetorically. The room offered a few solutions and other opinions that would invariably end up the same, and Jack told them all to get out there and get it done or he’d use them as bandit bait.

Leaving the meeting, everyone gave Jack a wider berth than usual as they escaped the room. He snarled at anyone that got too close to Rhys, his scowl alone a deterrent, and when they were finally alone, Jack crowded the younger man's space with a smile, mood done a complete one-eighty.

"You're acting so weird today, Jack," Rhys told him with a concerned look. The alpha pushed him against the table they'd been sitting at until Rhys was sitting on top of it, Jack standing between his legs. The younger man only raised a brow at the obvious invitation, interested, yeah, hands on Jack's biceps and warmth coming to him again through their bond. He cocked his head at the older man as if he could figure him out. "Didn’t eat any of those sweets R&D sent up, right? You feel alright?”

"I’m perfect, pumpkin," Jack purred as he wrapped arms around the omega and nosed at his neck. He scraped teeth about the skin as he cuddled the younger man close. “Just sick to shit of these peons wasting my time. They take up way too much of it. Much rather be at home in bed with you.”

Rhys shivered as Jack was sucking a red mark onto his throat, and held tight to the alpha at the pleasurable feeling, wanting more. Jack all affectionate was something to behold, and he wasn’t about to question his good luck with the man’s mercurial moods.

It had been a busy week, but they’d still spent plenty of time together, so there was no reason to be especially missing him or anything. Jack liked to sleep budged up against Rhys’ back at night, so there'd been no lack of closeness. And Jack hadn't been under any unusual pressure that he was aware of.

But then again, if the older man just wanted to be sweet on him, then hell, Rhys would bask in the glow of the freely-given attention. He knew Jack loved him, but sometimes that extra little bit really drove the fact home.

"You're so gorgeous, you know that pumpkin? Best looking thing on this space station."

Rhys laughed. "Okay, what did you do?" he accused with a smirk.

"Hm?"

"You didn't throw out those shorts I like, did you?"

The alpha paused in the nibbling of Rhys’ neck. "The ratty ones with the hole in the ass?"

"Hey it's a small-"

"I wouldn't do something like that, kitten. I like the easy-access hole," he teased with a laugh. Jack tilted Rhys' head back with a tug on his hair and licked a hot stripe up his throat. "Damn you taste good. What’s your secret, cupcake?"

"Okay," Rhys said with pleasure-shaky voice, quickly getting interested in whatever the older man had planned, but still suspicious of this sudden sweet mood and buttering-him-up of his. "Just tell me now and get it over with: what did you do? How bad is it?"

Jack chuckled against his skin. "I didn't do anything." He was sucking another mark below Rhys’ ear. "Can’t I just enjoy my pretty little mate after a crappy-ass boring meeting?” Rhys couldn’t help the grin splitting his face, though he was still suspicious with the attention. “Mm... All mine, right sugar?"

Rhys didn't know what had gotten into Jack at this point, but he also didn't care too much. With Jack swirling his tongue in the skin between neck and shoulder, Rhys’ attentions were elsewhere, thoughts thick and mostly on one thing only. "Jack… what…?"

"You want me, sweetheart? Tell me you want me," Jack growled, voice husky and raw with lust.

Rhys couldn't stop the pleasurable anticipatory shivers going through him, even if they were in some unlocked conference room in the middle of the day. Jack was just really good with his mouth, and there was no denying that tone in his voice. Coupled with the feedback from their bond-- the safety, possession, love, lust, home- Rhys felt dizzy with the man’s attention. "Yes… yes I want you. Not on these reports though,” the omega said with an amused chuff. “You scared everyone enough they’ll probably implode if I ask for new copies.”

Jack snorted into his neck, tugging the younger man’s shirt out of his pants to draw fingertips over warm, soft skin. Rhys lowly moaned as Jack lightly bit the omega, and clung to the older man.

“It'll spice up the documents, baby. Make ‘em more interesting,” Jack affirmed as he nipped at the younger man's skin. Rhys gave him a nip back that made the older man growl and pull back. His eyes were dilated with want as he looked at Rhys, and the omega grinned. The promise there was causing the younger man’s cock to fill out nicely against his pants, though he wasn’t particularly keen about getting it all over documents they’d have to take with them.

“Can’t you… like… wait until we get home tonight?” the younger man chuckled weakly, knowing he’d be easily swayed if Jack kept kissing him, and not too upset about that fact. He was way too interested in the older man to not want him. “Not that I don’t want to, but… Preferably on something softer than a desk?” Jack’s hand was on the back of his neck, massaging at his bonding spot, and Rhys felt himself go weak and slick with want for his alpha. Jack was pulling out all the stops, and Rhys was quickly losing his resolve.

“Then let me just get my mouth on you, sugar,” the older man whispered gruffly into his ear. “Come on, I’ll make it quick, real quick. Let the big bad boss-man make you feel real good.”

Rhys was trembling in excitement as Jack was already undoing the younger man’s belt and fly, pulling his pants and underwear down to growl with pleasure as the thick scent of the younger man hit him. The alpha nuzzled his nose at the base of his cock, making Rhys whine when he began mouthing at skin and balls. The younger man’s hands flew into Jack’s hair when the CEO started to suck him, and Jack didn’t even bitch about his ruined hairstyle. Not once.

In hindsight, that should have clued Rhys in right there that something was up, but he was so lost to that skilled mouth and tongue that he was nothing but a tumult of pleasure and moans under the CEO, coming down his throat with choked sobs while Jack worked him mercilessly.

They left the conference room with Rhys in a pleased, post-orgasmic daze. Jack followed closely behind as he lead the younger man possessively by the back of the neck. The alpha still had a raging hardon straining obscenely from the front of his pants, but he didn’t give a shit about any of his idiot employees seeing it, growling in his throat at any eyes that lingered on his blissful husband.

Rhys wondered why Jack didn’t let him return the favor, and when he’d come out of his trance, he’d realized that there would be excited gossip about the size of Jack’s cock and what an aroused CEO smelled like, and it would make Rhys embarrassed and livid both that he’d allowed the older man out with him like that.

For now though, they went back to the office to-- hopefully, in Rhys’ mind- finish the deed. But then Jack got called to an emergency in the experimental bio-weapons division, and the angry mass of aroused alpha-- along with his drawn pistol- left the office in a huff to take names and lives.

Rhys sat at his desk, ignoring the full inbox he needed to tend to, and wondered just what in the hell had gotten into Jack today.

Maybe it was time the two of them went on a vacation. A proper vacation. The last thing anyone needed was for Helios’ ruler to have a psychotic episode unrelated to incompetence or bandit thievery. And Jack turned into a big baby when he got sick, so Rhys wanted to make sure the alpha stayed in top physical health as well. Jack worked hard; he probably just needed a decent break and rest.

He placed a private call to Meg’s echo, asking the secretary if she could handle things on her own if he took Jack for a mental-health vacation. He knew it wasn’t for his heat-leave, but if she could, he would appreciate it.

Her answer was stuttered, confident she could, but she sounded flustered on the other end.

Rhys realized Jack had marched them both past her while still sporting a sizeable hardon for his mate. The omega blushed, and immediately opened a new tab on his comm to search for the biggest, nicest Hyperion gift basket he could find as both a thank you and an apology.

They left the office together that evening after the alpha finally came back from bio-weapons. He carried the scent of blood, but none was on him, so that was good as far as Rhys was concerned. Jack was being more touchy feely than usual in the elevator that would bypass several departments and take them to a dinner reservation the older man had made for them. Jack’s cuddliness, even after what was amounting to quite a waste of personnel, prompted Rhys to ask again what had gotten into him; if he'd missed an anniversary or birthday or if Jack had taken anything experimental from R&D.

The alpha swore up and down that he just needed his omega, a break with his omega. Just wild for him, yup. Let him provide a nice meal and some excellent company and show him a good time.

Rhys idly wondered if Jack was maybe secretly dying of something to be pulling out all the stops, but decided that the alpha was almost too healthy for his own damn good, and he'd know if something was up.

Nothing for it than to just enjoy the treatment then. Maybe this was what married, bonded life was all about. He was glad he’d asked Meg’s help in getting Jack some rest, anyway. There were plenty of nearby destinations; maybe he could broach the topic during dinner.

Rhys stopped the elevator on a floor just above the one they needed, giving the older man a look. "Just let me drop this off real fast, and then let's get something to eat." Jack sighed and rolled his eyes, but Rhys gave him a little frown. “You wanted this taken care of over the weekend, right? Well it’s not gonna be if I don’t pass it along.” He also didn’t want open business needing tending to if he could convince the man to leave Helios for a while.

“Fine fine, whatever, kitten. Just make it fast.” Jack reluctantly let go of him, preferring not to watch the peons scatter like roaches in his presence (which would only add to the time it would take his mate to flag down whoever those files belonged to) and waited just in the hall for the omega to do his thing.

He watched as Rhys high-fived another amber-haired man, chatted rather amicably, and Jack felt anger course through him as he watched the idle touches and intense focus the other man had on his omega.

"...Yeah they're a few lines short of a proper code," Rhys was laughing as Jack was suddenly pulling him bodily against him. The omega laughed in startled surprise even as Jack growled.

"Who do you think you're touching asshole??"

“Jack-- This is Jerry,” Rhys quickly explained, feeling like Jack’s behavior was getting clingier and clingier throughout the day and if he didn’t intervene then this poor guy would pay the price. “The one who’s been helping me track individual buyers? You gave him that bonus? Remember?” Rhys made quick, concerned introductions, and Jack only huffed and told the other man to get lost if he wanted to keep all his teeth. He did just that.

"Jesus, Jack, he was just being friendly and you’re acting way too weird," the omega pointed out as they took their leave of the floor. “Even you could see that. What the hell is going on with you today?”

“He was a little too friendly, sugar,” the alpha grumbled, fingers threaded with Rhys’ own as they still walked to the restaurant Rhys had booked earlier in the day. “Don’t need anyone forgetting who you belong to.”

Rhys rolled his eyes and gave the older man’s shoulder a bump with his head. “I don’t think anyone will, Jack.” He lifted their held hands in the air so Jack could see the wedding ring he’d given the younger man. It made the alpha hum in his throat. “And don’t forget they all know who you belong to, too.”

That made the older man practically purr with delight, and he clasped his own ringed hand over their entwined fingers, pulling him close for a kiss before continuing on to the restaurant.

Jack was sitting budged right up next to Rhys though their table was large enough to seat six. And the CEO was intimidating the shit out of the staff at the restaurant. It wouldn’t have been too out of the ordinary if not for the extreme shifts in the older man’s mood-- even wild for Jack. It worried Rhys, but he had no answers.

Jack was nuzzling Rhys close, nipping at his throat and licking his skin. The waitress that delivered their food jumped when Jack snarled out at her approach, and she quickly got out of there as soon as china hit the table. Rhys didn’t even blame her.

"Jack, seriously. What did you do? Or take? Something is up."

"Yeah it is,” the older man said with a chuckle. “Mmm I want you, pumpkin."

The timbre of Jack’s voice and the nip at just the right spot on his throat sent excited shivers up Rhys’ back. He couldn't help but return the enthusiastic kiss Jack was suddenly pressing to his lips, though he tried not to get too distracted by the alpha’s come-ons.

It was hard, though. Jack was so damn good with his mouth, and even if Rhys thought it was weird, he could never say no to Jack for long. "Let's at least have dinner first, yeah?” The omega chuckled, his voice a husky purr. “You can kiss every inch of me later."

Jack growled with desire at such a statement, intent on devouring the younger man's mouth. Rhys had to admit he was a little loathe to stop it; Jack’s tongue made very persuasive arguments.

Rhys realized he was getting carried away with the older man, their food barely touched and getting cold. Ruler of Hyperion or not, they were starting to make a scene that people were ignoring a little too keenly. And he didn’t want to be on the cover of some gossip mag again for Vaughn to poke fun at him.

"Sweetheart.... Come with me to the coat room," Jack whispered in his ear as the older man’s hand pawed at the inside of Rhys’ thigh. It was making the omega shamefully slick if he was being honest.

"Wha-- Jack no, that's just... No." He didn't think anyone's coats deserved what Jack probably wanted to do on them. Fun idea but… poor coats. It wasn’t like anyone wouldn’t know it was them who did it, either.

"Rhysie, sugarpie," Jack growled out as he was biting at the younger man's neck. "If you don't come with me, I'm bending you over this table and having you in front of everyone."

Rhys' face flushed at that, and not completely from shock if he was being honest. His cock gave a lurch of interest, almost wanting to let the older man do just that.

The younger man quickly vacated the booth to make his way to the restaurant's coat room-- maybe shamefully excited but decided if he was, it was Jack’s fault- and Jack was hot on his heels.

The door wasn't even closed and Jack was all over him. It boosted Rhys’ ego more than a little bit that the CEO was so desperate to have him. He didn't know what had gotten into him, but he liked it a great deal.

Jack had been very stressed out at work lately, and true, the man could benefit from a little rest and relaxation. But it was always hard to make him take any time off, so he usually took that stress out on Rhys in the most delicious of ways. And if today was any indication, then Jack was stressed to hell and back.

Jack was digging his hands into the front of Rhys' pants while the younger man just quietly laughed with arousal. He knew he shouldn't be having this much fun in the coat room of a very expensive restaurant but Jack's will was intoxicating.

Not that the younger man was complaining, especially with the way Jack was stretching him open.

"Mmm kitten..."

“...Just like that…” Rhys breathed out, pressing his ass towards the alpha.

When he'd gotten the younger man bent over, working fingers in and out of the omega's slickness, Jack whispered low in Rhys' ear. "Rhysie... Kitten… Bet you’d like me to stick a pup in you…. Hope those pills of yours failed."

Rhys murmured something unintelligible, not quite hearing; hard to pay attention when Jack was working him open so expertly, his hole wet and wanting despite himself. He was begging Jack to hurry up and fuck him already, the semi-public space and the threat of getting caught or being heard really doing it for the younger man. He failed at hiding the moan ripped from his throat when Jack finally sank into him, not really hearing as Jack murmured dirty things in his ear.

Jack was biting at his neck and shoulder as they rapidly approached climax. Rhys was crying out in ecstasy, omega cock releasing in spurts over some unlucky person’s coat. The older man's groans grew annoyed as his hips stuttered in his thrusting, orgasm peaking as he worked the omega. "I just.... I wanna... Fuck, Rhysie." Jack was coming with a moan, and Rhys was momentarily confused at the lack of pressure inside him.

Jack wasn't knotting him, the CEO making aggravated sounds even though he'd just shot his load inside his pretty mate. His knot was outside of where it wanted to be most, but he hadn't pushed it because of where they were-- usually the alpha wouldn't give a shit; maybe even hang around in a closet or so for a bit. But this was too public, too quick. He was grinding his swollen knot against Rhys’ sensitive hole, but wasn't trying to push it into the younger man.

It made the omega confused.

With Jack's words previous and his extra observation of their surroundings, the way he'd been acting all day, Rhys started to put the pieces together in silent horror as Jack finally removed himself from his hole, and the omega stood up.

"Jack... Jack are you in rut?"

“Mm… maybe.” The older man just growled as he was shoving himself back into his pants with little care. He was focused on stroking Rhys' bare buttocks with a sort of growled whine as his release dripped out of the omega. "This is such a waste..."

Rhys realized with a mixture of excitement and concern that Jack was slowly losing coherent control as his rut was coming on-- pulling up his pants with a grimace to the moisture leaking out of him- and figured the brunt of things was still to come.

Jack was gathering him up in his arms to scent and cuddle. It was very pleasing, but this wasn't the time or the place. The look in Jack's eyes was deep, pupils blown. Yeah, Jack shouldn't be out in public unless Helios at large was properly warned.

"We need to get home, Jack. Now." A lecherous grin spread across the alpha's face. Rhys just gave a little shake of his head to wipe away that grin. "You're dangerous."

"OOOH you bet I am. Does that turn you on, princess?" The CEO growled, smirking.

Yes, if he was being totally honest.

But he was serious. Handsome Jack was already a rather dangerous man. He’d seen what he was willing to do to protect Rhys. But Handsome Jack in an alpha rut? Hell no, he should probably have the restaurant evacuate so he could get the CEO out with little trouble; and that was no exaggeration. Volatile didn't begin to describe it. There would be bloodshed for certain if anyone set him off. They'd avoided it so far but it would only get worse. Jack might seem to have his wits right now, with Rhys, alone, but around others.... That was not a good idea.

Rhys noticed as they left the restaurant that the other alphas were giving him a wide berth. They knew something that Rhys had only just realized. Either that, or Jack’s strong scent or dangerous glares kept everyone way. Rhys got him home without incident, sending Meg a message that they’d be taking that ‘vacation’ right here on Helios.

As much of a very serious threat Jack could be during a rut, Rhys loved it. He hadn’t experienced too many with the older man thus far, but he secretly looked forward to it. It was like all the fun of his heat but no suffering on his end and a whole surplus of orgasms. It was beautiful. Jack would say and do all sorts of shit he wouldn't normally, and it added to the surreality of the situation. He was affectionate as hell for one, far more demonstrative with his emotions, and Rhys luxuriated in Jack's single-minded focus.

"Rhysie, Rhysie, no one else will ever have you."

The omega grinned to himself, feeling Jack's lips at his lower back as possessive words of need left Jack’s lips. "Nope," the omega agreed, smiling to himself. He felt pressure as Jack sucked a kiss to the soft skin at his side; remained still and patient while Jack took his time marking the omega up. Rhys was reveling in the mixed sensations of Jack’s physical affection and the flow of warmth he felt in their bond. How much Jack wanted and needed him… It was enough to give Rhys an ego to match the CEO’s.

"You're all mine." Jack was slowly licking his way up Rhys' back, laying over the younger man's thighs. Rhys shivered in pleasure at the feeling of that tongue, cataloging all the marks Jack was putting on him. The alpha was in no hurry to do anything else at the moment, and Rhys was happy to lazily grind into the sheets.

"Do you love me?" Rhys asked with a teasing grin, looking over his shoulder back at the alpha as Jack growled with pleasure in his throat. Rhys was shamelessly taking advantage of the situation and he didn't care. He wanted to hear it, and Jack had little to no filter while in rut.

"Oh I love you more than anything," the older man said with a bite to his hip and a hand smoothing over his ribs.

Rhys decided to amp it up, his grin widening. "You love me more than Hyperion?"

Jack was nosing over his back, only half listening as he was inhaling the omega's scent and laving at his skin. "I love you more than Hyperion," Jack repeated absentmindedly, nosing about the younger man’s skin. He was smoothing a hand up Rhys' spine, pressed his lips to the omega’s skin. "I can't fuck Hyperion," he said as a realized afterthought. Rhys just laughed.

"If anyone could find a way, you could, Jack," the younger man told him with a smile.

Jack was sucking a bruise onto the omega's shoulder as his hand traced over Rhys' neck, his heart beating strong but calm, relaxed. "Are you happy, baby? Is that nice?”

He was nosing at his throat, and Rhys knew what the older man wanted to hear. It made him smile. "It’s the best. You’re the best.”

"Oh yes yes yes kitten," the alpha sighed mindlessly. He lifted himself, climbing over Rhys to loom over him. The omega gave another look over his shoulder, propping himself up on elbows, grinning. He raised his ass up to the alpha, felt Jack's hard cock make contact with his skin. The CEO groaned and took him by the hips even as he bent to kiss the skin of his back. "Sweet Rhysie, all mine..."

The younger man pressed himself up against the alpha, urging him to action. He loved the tongue bath, he wasn't going to lie. Jack was absolutely worshipful of his body in times like these. But as sweet as slow was, Rhys was all wound up now. He wanted action. He needed Jack to fuck him. And if he didn’t spur him on, Jack would go on cuddling him all night before he finally fucked himself into him.

“Jack… I need you,” Rhys whined, pressing his ass more firmly towards the older man’s cock.

The CEO didn't need more than that before he was slipping inside the younger man with a groan. It made the omega’s toes curl as he began a smooth and slow rhythm, praise dripping from his lips as he told Rhys how perfect he was; how good he’d look on his knot, or big with his kid.

"Harder, Jack, harder," Rhys told him. But the alpha didn't, nipping, leisurely, firm and sure strokes into him. Rhys wanted more. A wicked glint entered the omega's eye. He knew how to get Jack to go harder when he was in a rut. "That alpha from advertising… he's been giving me the eye."

Jack growled at him, fingers digging into Rhys' hips hard enough to bruise, grinding himself into Rhys' ass, and the younger man loved it. "What alpha?"

"Real big, strong. Handsome," Rhys purred out as Jack was fucking into him in earnest, slamming in hard with possessiveness that sent jolts to Rhys’ cock.

Jack's growl against his skin reverberated in his chest and Rhys couldn't hide the grin on his face. There was no alpha in advertising. But the make-believe man had certainly come in handy in the past. Jack never asked for a name. It probably never entered his mind to ask, and by the time his rut was over, it never occurred to him

Rhys cried out in pleasure. That was it. Yes yes yes.

"I'm your only alpha," Jack growled out, biting him hard. Rhys groaned out deep and low as Jack worked him roughly. God he loved this. "Me. Just me."

"Aaaah fuck yes Jack..."

"Me," Jack groaned in his ear. "No one else, you're mine. Mine mine mine." Each word was punctuated with a thrust, and Rhys was already coming against the sheets, a happy moan as Jack kept up the rhythm until he found his own end. His knot swelling inside the younger man, Jack held tight to him and nuzzled at the back of his neck. "Mine. All mine."

"Yes Jack, all yours," Rhys sighed out shakily, satisfied. He angled his head to bare his throat to the alpha, and Jack dove right in with his mouth to press kisses to his skin and worry his ear.

"Rhysie...my Rhysie. You’re perfect…”

The omega smirked. Though the alpha's rut was much-shorter lived than his heats, he ate up every second of it. Jack's possessiveness, his declarations, his naked infatuation. Rhys knew he was toying with him but he also knew that Jack didn't care. The omega liked to hear it as much as the alpha liked to say it: "Do you love me?"

"Ooh I love you," Jack said lowly, licking at his throat, stroking his skin. "Rhysie… baby... Love you love you love you. Just… goddamn."

Rhys luxuriated under the attention, smiling in lazy satisfaction. It was times like these that he wondered how he behaved during a heat; what Jack said to him during those times. Jack talked a lot of nonsense during a rut. Or, more to the point, he was ridiculously emotional on the sweet side. Rhys was definitely eating it up. "How much do you love me?" Rhys prodded, grinning to himself and locking every word away in his chest to muse on later.

"Mmm… so much… so much. All mine sweetheart. So much." He was kissing Rhys' ear, rubbing his skin. "You'll look so good with my kid on you. Nice and big… Mmm cupcake…”

Talk like this made him grin. Jack’s obsession with breeding him wasn’t so unusual as far as alpha ruts went. But they never really talked about that outside a rut. Rhys never even thought about it until Jack had started talking that way the first time the older man was going through a rut, and his alarm and Jack’s sheepishness when he was in his right mind again proved any worries unfounded.

Neither of them were ready for kids right now. He liked it though, even got off on the gruff, self-assured tones Jack spoke in when he got like this. It had been the subject of some fantasies when the older man wasn’t around, that was for damn sure.

The loving on him and extra-affectionate touches was something to be enjoyed, but what energy Jack didn’t expend fucking him into a happy puddle had the alpha restless, patrolling the large penthouse for the nigh-impossibility of threats to his omega.

Rhys slept somewhat fitfully. Unlike during his heats, Jack stayed very active and had to be wooed to rest down with him. He prowled about the spacious penthouse, checking in on and settling next to Rhys, kissing and cuddling, sometimes fucking, before he was up again. It annoyed the omega, though he knew Jack couldn't help it. His instincts to protect his ‘nesting’ omega relaxing in their bedroom were hard to restrain.

"Jaaaack," Rhys' sleep-filled voice croaked as the older man’s spot in the bed next to him was cold. He heard quick footsteps, and Jack was sticking his head into the bedroom, eyes locking on Rhys before looking around. The younger man just smirked. "Jack, come lay with me."

The alpha snorted and shut the bedroom door before he climbed into the bed. Rhys immediately cuddled up to him and Jack was already over him scenting and kissing. "Need me?"

Rhys smiled. "Always." The younger man tipped his head back as Jack's lips worked over his throat and under his jaw. His stomach fluttered pleasantly as Jack's tongue worked in the crook of his neck. "Jack..."

The older man worked his way down Rhys' skin, kissing at the soft pale skin of his belly, nibbling a hip. "You know how good you'll look with my kid on you? Too gorgeous… way too gorgeous. All big and pretty... Fuck."

Rhys just chuckled, threading hands through Jack's hair. The CEO always treated him well, but in rut Jack practically worshipped his body, free with his emotions. Rhys knew he could get anything he wanted when Jack was like this. Absolutely anything. Like a nice hard fuck. Rhys liked to push him, too. "How do you know you've done it already?"

Jack looked up from his belly, brow furrowed as he met the omega's eyes, his smile sly on that gorgeous face. The alpha drew himself back up over the omega and worked his legs around his waist.

"I'll make sure sugar. You want it? You want it?"

"Yes Jack," Rhys humored him, wanting his mate regardless. He wiggled down the bed to fit tighter to the CEO. "Come on."

The alpha wiggled a finger into the younger man as Rhys sighed pleasantly. He was hot and slick for Jack, and the older man groaned as he stretched the omega below him.

"More Jack, more," Rhys sighed as he pushed against the fingers worked into him.

Jack spent a good deal of time both securing the perimeter of the penthouse and his omega. His single-mindedness to please, to seek Rhys’ approval and fuck him into the mattress, made for the most interesting three days of Rhys’ entire life.

Jack had pleased him in ways in which the older man was going to be smelling like happy omega for a long while after. He was relaxed, laying on his belly with a hand slung over Rhys’ back, and the alpha had a sleeping smile on his passed-out face.

Well needed and deserved, Rhys thought as he stroked a few hairs out of the older man’s face. Boy what a ride.

The barely-awake smile that spread onto Jack’s face as his eyes caught sight of Rhys made the younger man’s heart skip a beat. Jack leaned forward even as Rhys was bending to kiss his lips, a grin of his own on his face as their lips met.

Jack was in an excellent mood.

“Mmm mornin’ baby. Don’t you look cute as hell.”

“I’m a nightmare,” Rhys laughed as he considered the fluffy state of his hair and the various love bites and hickeys littering his body.

Jack pulled him close to hug him against his chest, chuckling and pressing lazy kisses to Rhys’ cheeks. “Love ya, pumpkin.”

“Love you too,” Rhys said kissing Jack’s lips with his own. He laid back down to hug the older man right. This was turning out to be an absolutely perfect morning. But then, the end of Jack’s ruts usually were, when the alpha was all fucked-out and cuddly towards the end. Rhys was already looking forward to the next one. His voice was teasing as he enjoyed Jack’s scent. “...Why can’t you always be this sweet?”

“Can’t have you getting used to it,” the older man teased and laughed at the affronted noise the younger man made. “Gettin’ all sassy on me once you realize how tightly you’ve got me wrapped ‘round that little finger of yours, Rhysie. Hyperion would be ruined.”

The omega chuckled, his heart rate up, and melting at the feedback from their bond. Jack loved him insanely, but it was never more obvious than after a rut. The warmth there was fierce and if he’d ever had doubts about how Jack felt about him before, their bond always reassured him.

Rhys clung a little, nuzzling the older man. “I love you so much, Jack. You know that, right?”

“Mmm say it again, but slower.”

Rhys snorted. “Ass.” He pressed a nipping kiss to the older man’s jaw, making Jack hiss then grin. The alpha pressed a proper kiss back to Rhys’ lips, and then let himself relax into the pillows a moment, keeping the omega close. Jack was still mellow. Rhys hoped the mood lasted all day.

“What’s today?”

“Tuesday.” The CEO stretched in a way that had Rhys pawing at him with poorly-disguised appreciation. The smile was heard in his voice. “How do you feel?”

“Good, but like I have a hangover,” Jack grumbled with a sigh, then opened his eyes and smiled at his mate. He raised a brow. “You?”

A self-satisfied grin slithered onto Rhys’ face. “I love when you're in rut.”

“That makes one of us,” Jack groaned, though he chuckled a little. “That get you hot, baby?”

“Yes.” There was no need to deny it. The admission made the older man laugh and sit up.

“Well you'll have to wait for the next one, sugar. I’m sure this place is going to hell while you’re having the time of your life on my knot.”

Rhys only snorted and spread himself over the older man like a blanket. “Meg has been taking care of everything, and whatever she hasn’t, she’s sent me. We can stay in bed, Jack.”

“Oh yeah? Think you can butter me up, sugar?”

“I know I can.”

Jack laughed hard and then took Rhys’ face between his hands. “...and just how long has poor Meg been taking care of things, princess?”

Rhys chuckled and pressed his lips to Jack’s own before pulling back to smirk. “I… might’ve asked her for a week so I could take you on vacation somewhere…” Jack’s expression became quizzical, and Rhys chuckled a little, though he had nothing to be embarrassed about, and definitely wasn’t ashamed. “I thought you needed some rest and relaxation… You work really hard, handsome.”

“So you were gonna sneak me off to some beach or something where I could watch you prance around half-naked?” Jack groaned heavily and moved his hands to instead encompass the younger man, pulling him into the pillows as if they could both sink. “This goddamn rut interrupted that?”

“To be fair,” Rhys started diplomatically to Jack’s own musings, “I didn’t get the chance to try and ask before this happened. I’m really glad I did, though.” Jack raised a brow at him, still set on being moody at the thought of missing out on Rhys in skimpy nothings. “I asked her for a week, Jack. We’ve still got a few days left… if you think you can manage it,” he slightly dared, hoping the CEO wouldn’t choose to go back to work.

“A few days, huh?” Jack’s fingers trilled on the back of Rhys’ neck, the omega squirming at the touch and making Jack chuckle. “Well hell, that’s not enough time to get to Aquator, but I know a couple shops that might have some string bikinis that would fit you, Rhysie.”

Rhys snorted and pressed his face into Jack’s chest, voice muffled. “...what’s the point when you can see everything already, Jack?”

The alpha snorted. “Kitten, you have no appreciation for the theater of the thing.”

Rhys only laughed at that, his excitement through the bond making Jack grin, and the pair laid in bed a while longer browsing items on the echonet to make the most of the next few days of their stay-cation.

Rhys vetoed the idea of importing sand, but agreed to fruity liquors, trashy movies, and a very sheer swimsuit under the condition that Jack wear the matching one. As they’d end up tearing them off each other anyways, Jack agreed wholeheartedly, his waggling eyebrows making his mate laugh.

Buy me a kofi | Check out my ao3 :)

#rhack #rhys the company man #handsome jack #borderlands fanfic #tftbl fanfic #omegaverse #omega rhys #alpha jack #check ao3 for any warnings ya'll know the drill i dont do that here fight me LOLOLOL #usual for my content anyways no worries ahahha I CANT BELIEVE IVE DONE A MILLION GODDAMN WORDS SHIIIIIT #20 days from now it'll be 4 years since I started posting rhack fic AHAHAH i feel.... not as accomplished as i'd like but im glad :3 #WOOOOO #diggin into my incomplete stuff to try and both get it out and also stay on track publishing more stuff x_x haha

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hydrospanners · 5 years

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a writing year in review: 2k18 edition

So I’m taking a minute to look back at all the writing I did this year and it has been a pretty spotty year for fanfic for me. Lots of long, blank spaces between weird surges of productivity. But! I did a lot of work on my original projects and also the boring adult responsibilities in my life (I changed jobs three times!!! I changed my name!!! I started going to therapy!!!!) and I pushed out some fic I really liked this year in spite of all that so, all things considered, I’m calling this one a win.

Without further ado, here is the breakdown of all the fic I’ve written this year plus a sad breakdown all of the geriatric WIPs looking at me with their big sad eyes, crossing their fingers for 2019. Hiding most of it under a cut because the rankings and WIP snippets got long.

2k18's Publication Stats for Fun & Profit:

This year I published 16 fanfics, all but one for SWTOR. 10 were brand new, started and finished in 2018, and 6 were old WIPS that have been marinating for Force only knows how long. That number is down from the 29 fics I published in 2017, but close to the 14 I published in 2016. 2015 was only 3 fics and 2014 was only 2. I have a total of 64 works published on AO3.

This year I published 34559 words for an average of about 2160 words per fic. This is extremely above my overall average of about 930 words per fic with a combined total of 59569 words published since I started posting fic publicly back in 2014.

So the number of fics may be lower this year but the number of words total and the average words in the fics I did publish went up! Please enjoy a review of the shit people liked most according to AO3 and then the stuff I personally liked most because I'm allowed to like my own writing, sue me.

2k18's Most Read Fics:

1. spoonful of sugar: Everyone gets sick sometimes; even big damn heroes. These are vignettes about the Jedi Knight's crew getting sick, getting treated, and getting better. (SWTOR)

I started writing this one when I got really sick during the summer of 2017 and I finally finished it this year! There's another part that I cut because it got way out of control that I'd like to one day add back in as a second chapter but I am okay with calling this one complete and maybe never doing that. This one is a nice combo of funny and a little bit sweet that I think is refreshing, like a cold, fruity drink on a hot summer's day. Here is my very favorite line from this whole fic because it is so delightfully dumb:

“Scourge,” Rhese tries and fails to sound as though he has some degree of command over his own voice right now. “Get off my dick.”

2. filling the table: They have a saying back on Corellia that the only way you can ever really know a man is by taking his credits. They also have a saying that you should never play cards with a Corellian because Corellians always cheat, but she's betting Doc never heard that one. (SWTOR)

I think I started this one all the way back in like 2014 or 2015. I can't remember now but it was a long time ago and this piece of shit has morphed a million times since then. I must have rewritten the ending about a million times.

I really wanted to capture the desperation of the Balmorran Resistance while I was doing the character work with this, the sense of limited resources and hard living, and I am pretty happy with the result. I'm also pretty happy with the characterization work here, the little snippets they are both revealing to each other and the bigger snippets they aren't. I'm still not entirely happy with the white spaces in this one. I feel like I was a little too sparse and there are lots of places that don't flow if you don't already know what isn't being said, but I am more or less happy with this one! Here is my favorite bit because of the doublespeak foreshadowing their future relationship that was definitely on purpose:

Four hands later, she’s fifty credits richer and Doc is rooting around in his pocket for something to scribble another IOU on. She knows he’ll never make good on it, but Rea’s happy to accept his empty promises if it keeps him playing the game. She’s overdue for a bit of fun.

3. take back what the kingdom stole: Alliance Commander Nirea Velaran has always had a talent for burning bridges. When Theron comes to her after Nathema to pay for his sins, she finds herself wondering whether some bridges can't be repaired. (SWTOR)

Hey look! Something I started and finished in the same calendar year!! This one grew out of a very stupid joke that I ended up not even making until the end of the fic. At first I wanted to draw that bit, but I got frustrated with my lacking artistic talent so I wrote it instead and it turned into one of my fave things I've written. It has nice scenery and character growth and intimate friendships that have a real impact on their emotional lives! Hurt feelings aren't just for romance fam!! Anyway here's my favorite bit because it's one of the most Rea moments I've ever written:

He shoved her off his shoulder none-too-gently, scowling as he looked skyward, as if searching for another fleet of hostile ships to arrive and grant him the sweet release of death. When none came, he settled for another hearty gulp of whiskey. He had to be halfway to knackered by now. “You’re insufferable,” he grumbled.

“I know.” She smiled a smile that felt damn near genuine and collapsed back against the grass, swinging her legs out over the crevasse.

“I don’t even feel bad about all this anymore.” Theron complained. “You deserve it.”

Rea only laughed. A real laugh, all the way up from her belly, and it felt so fucking good.

Theron looked at her from the corners of his bloodshot eyes, suspicious and too clever by half. “Fuck,” he swore, shaking his head. “You just mindfucked me, didn’t you?”

2k18 Author’s Choice:

1. when the wicked play. After witnessing his first real lightsaber duel, Doc reflects on the contradictions of what the Jedi are supposed to be and the realities of fighting a war. (SWTOR)

This might be one of my very favorite things I've written ever. In case it wasn't clear by now, I am pretty preoccupied with making myself feel the weight of the violence and uncertainty and war that plagues you in this game. It all feels so clean and sanitary in the game because it's a game, but it's something I always want to explore and make visceral in the stories I tell about the game. I am also obsessed with Jedi and the mythos and conflicting ideas that must surround them inside the story's universe. This was a fun way to marry the two and do a bit of character work at the same time. I'm also pretty proud of this one structurally, with how contained and bookended it is. [high fives self] Anyway here's my favorite part because it's some of the only action I've written that feels like it captures the brutal urgency of how I imagine actual lightsaber combat and also says a little bit about my girl Rea via the way she fights:

Rea is little more than a blur of blue light as she collides with the Sith across the field, her sabers swinging too fast for Doc’s eyes to track. She’s hammering her enemy from every side, pushing him back and back and back. Her assault is savage and relentless and there is nothing like grace or elegance in any of it. It isn’t beautiful; it’s violence. Ugly, brutal violence.

The whole thing is over in less than a minute.

Blue meets red meets blue meets blue meets blue meets red and then the Sith’s head is hitting the floor with a muffled thump. It happens so abruptly Doc doesn’t even realize it’s ended until the rest of the body collapses a heartbeat later.

2. shadows settle on the place that you left. In the wake of her father’s death, Nyria Ryder tries to reconcile the man she knew with the shadow he left hanging over her. (Mass Effect: Andromeda)

Look! Something that isn't SWTOR! (The only thing I wrote this year that wasn't for SWTOR.) I have a whole bunch of feelings about Alec Ryder and had a really good time porting Rea over to this game and seeing the ways his presence in her life altered who she is and the ways that it didn't. Also I have a lot of feelings about SAM. This is probably peak self-indulgence but I still feel like this is some efficient sketching of Nyria's character and Alec's and their particular relationship and I'm pretty proud of it. Also I'm always a slut for complicated familial relationships. Here is my favorite bit because it's such a nice illustration of who Ria is and an important turning point for her character:

She decided to be kinder to SAM than the universe had been to her. He was her brother, just as much as Rhys, and she was all he had. She would have to make sure herself was enough.

“He believed in us both,” she told him what he needed to hear, even though it wasn’t true. Then she made a promise she could not keep, because she knew he needed that too: “You and me are going to figure this thing out. Just you watch. We’re gonna make Alec proud.”

All the same stuff I said above applies here still. Glad we can all agree this one was nice.

State of the WIPs

Just for fun I did a dive into my WIP folder to see what I'm setting myself up for in 2019! Only it wasn't very fun at all because there is so much really old stuff in here!!!!!! Good luck to future me because past me really left you with the bag girl! Good luck carrying the weight of hopes and dreams and stories unfulfilled!!

I have a total of 48 fics in progress right now. The fandom breakdown is as follows, ranked from the most to the least: Star Wars: The Old Republic (35), Dragon Age (8), Mass Effect: Andromeda (4), Fallout 4 (1). And because I'm a masochist, I looked at the dates on all this shit too. Here's the breakdown of what year all of these things were started:

2014: 4 fics

2015: 9 fics

2016: 15 fics

2017: 11 fics

2018: 9 fics

That sound you hear is me sobbing in the distance. 2014!!! What the fuck!!!!! I am gonna finish those four fics this year if it kills me. We aren't living like this anymore. Please enjoy some samples from the WIP folder with absolutely no context:

“You carry sleeping pills in your pocket?”

“For my wife. Maybe you’ve met her? About this high--” Doc raised his hand half a foot over his own head “--brown hair, blue eyes, great ass.”

Ignoring the commentary on his sister’s figure and the extreme overestimation of her height, Rhese nodded. “I may have seen her around.”

“Well if you see her again, you tell her to come home. Her family’s worried.”

Do you hear that Rea? Your family is worried. Rhese wondered if she could feel their concern, their anguish. Was she searching for them as they searched for her? She’d always been good at hiding, but she’d never vanished completely before. A hole in the Force where her warm, fervent energy should have been.

He felt cold. Really alone for the first time in his life. Careful what you wish for, Liss had always said. You might just get it.

Ossus is important.

Rea feels it when she falls out of hyperspace, that shift, that tug of something just behind her navel. The familiar weight of destiny, settling like a stone in the pit of her stomach. It leaves her breathless, white-knuckled and gripping the shuttle’s controls, her skin prickling under the cold caress of dread.

She wasn’t expecting this story to have a happy ending—a colony of Jedi on the eve of war? she’s danced that dance enough times to know the steps by now—but she wasn’t expecting anything so bad as the draw of destiny.

Fate has never been anything but cruel to her. Feeling it here, now? This is going to be worse than she imagined.

This is how you deal with failure.

You just do.

You get up in the morning and brush your teeth. You train until your legs wobble beneath you. You choke down your nutripaste and ask Simms about his niece. You congratulate Tarinik on her promotion. You laugh too loud at Vortena’s shit jokes. And when Beniko’s eyes follow a little too close, you blow her a kiss like it doesn’t matter at all.

You keep moving forward because standing still will kill you. Because life is a race and if you slow down for even a second, death will catch up.

Nirea Velaran is not ready to die.

She is not maleficarum, but she is changed. Something is awake inside her now, and the whispers are louder each time she touches the Fade. Sweet, coaxing whispers full of promises. Some of them sound like her mother.

Take care of your brother, Niria. You’re all he’s got.

In the morning, Qarric wakes with a pounding head and an empty sleeve. He never asks, but he watches her more sharply, reprimands her more often, demands more of her in training.

When she is fourteen, blade tucked into the top of her worn boot, he gives her a warning. “You aren’t as strong as you think,” he says. “No one is.”

“Is it much farther?” Ria jabbed the bladed end of her stave--a fancy enchanted thing Vivienne had insisted on--into the sodden ground and squinted through the trees, praying for a glimpse of the promised coast. The air smelled of salt and death and the sea, but she hadn’t seen a single crashing wave yet.

“A few more miles yet,” Blackwall answered irritably. Ria had elected to blame the weather for his foul mood. “Same as it was five minutes ago, Your Worship.”

“And five minutes before that,” Varric added.

“Conditions are much safer inside the ship, Nyria.”

“Didn’t come all the way out here to be safe, SAM.” Another rock plinked hollowly against the wall of the prefab. “We came to see new planets and shit. That’s what I’m doing.”

“There is not much to see at night.”

“Not much to see during the day either. Sure as hell nothing worth dying for.” She huffed a bitter not-quite-laugh.

She spoke before he could even open his mouth to ask the question. “You’re overthinking it, little brother.”

“We’re twins,” he said, mostly out of habit. “And I’m taller.”

“Your hair is taller.”

“This is serious, Nyria.”

“So is your hair.” She reached out almost absent-mindedly to ruffle it, eyes still fixed on her omni-tool, but he dodged out of the way.

#long post #idk what else to tag this as #so long 2k18!!!!#you were a bitch of a year and i hated you!!!!!#good vibes & righteous anger for 2k19!!

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ponyjockey · 7 years

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Portrait - Nessian Angst

100 followers! Thank you all so much. Here’s a short little Nessian to celebrate. I hope you like it. Please let me know what you think. If you haven’t read my other fics you can find them here. I’m also working on a multi-chapter Cassian thing that I hope to start posting soon.

Portrait

“Damn it Cassian, stay still” Nesta said for what felt like the hundredth time. When Cassian had suggested they have Feyre do a portrait of them for the new apartment Nesta hadn’t thought about the fact that it would require sitting, which Cassian was dreadfully bad at.

Feyre had them seated on a bench in the garden of the townhouse. Cassian’s arms were wrapped around Nesta and her legs were stretched out on the bench. It was supposed to look comfortable, Feyre had said, like they were quietly lounging in the garden, but it was just not something she and Cassian ever did. The portrait didn’t feel like them but Cassian and Feyre really liked the idea, so Nesta had been overruled. For the last hour Nesta had been honing her inner calm as Cassian squirmed, fidgeted with his hair, and poked Nesta in the back with the pommel of his sword every five seconds.

“This was your idea Cassian, and if you don’t stop poking me with that thing then we are done here.” Nesta whispered, her temper flaring.

“I thought you liked me poking you with my thing” Cassian whispered back pecking Nesta on the cheek.

“Not funny” Nesta retorted. She was hot and uncomfortable and did not have the patience to deal with his innuendos right now. Feyre on the other hand was so concentrated on her canvas she didn’t seem to notice Nesta and Cassian’s bickering, a feat with her fae hearing.

“Feyre,” Nesta shouted across the garden. Her sister did not respond. “Feyre” Nesta shouted again clapping her hands. At that, her sister finally looked up from her work.

“It’s coming out great. Just sit tight for another half hour or so and I should have what I need”. Feyre said amiably. She definitely hadn’t noticed Nesta’s discomfort.

“Would it be alright if we took a break? This dress is too hot and the bat is driving me nuts” Nesta asked with an exasperated look at Cassian.

“Hey!” Cassian retorted. “Here I am trying to do something nice to decorate our new apartment, and all you’re doing is complaining”.

“I wouldn’t be complaining” Nesta said trying to control her burgeoning rage, “if you would learn to sit still for one damn minute. You’re acting like a child”.

“And you, Nesta my darling, need to relax”.

That was it. Nesta was done. No one, not even Cassian, told her to relax. She stood up and marched back into the townhouse. She would apologize to Feyre later, but for now she needed to get away from Cassian before she strangled him.

They had been talking about moving in together for months, but now that the move was here Nesta was antsy. Living with a male when she wasn’t married was never something Nesta would have considered, but the customs in Velaris were more relaxed than what she was used to. Cassian had been spending almost every night with her in the townhouse and with Elain, and Rhys and Feyre there, it was getting crowded to say the least. Nesta told Cassian she was thinking of renting her own place and he suggested they look for somewhere together. Nesta tried to think back to the happiness she felt when they signed the papers for their new apartment, but all she could think about was how much he got under her skin today.

This stupid portrait was his idea, but he couldn’t accomplish the simple task of sitting still for a few hours. Nesta knew that she was making a big deal over an insignificant annoyance, but it wasn’t just the portrait. She was nervous about living with Cassian. They got on each other’s nerves so much and though they made up easily and their relationship was also filled with intense passion, Nesta wasn’t sure she could handle it every day. She loved him, in her own way, but he was exhausting. Nesta knew she was equally exhausting and an immortal existence of fights over Cassian not cleaning his shoes before entering the house, or leaving his leathers on the floor was not what she wanted.

Maybe this wasn’t the path that she and Cassian should be on. Maybe like Rhys’ parents they were just not right for eachother. Nesta knew she didn’t deserve Cassian with his easy smiles and unflinching loyalty, but she thought that she had gotten over that. She thought that she was finally happy, but she was also tired. She was tired of trying to live up to Cassian’s ideal of her, tired of telling him to wash the dishes, tired of the bickering, tired of the making up. She was tired and maybe, she thought as Cassian started knocking on her door insistently, no doubt wanting to apologize, she and Cassian weren’t meant to have a happily ever after at all.

#Nessian #Cassian and Nesta #a court of thorns and roses #a court of wings and ruin #a court of mist and fury #ACOTAR #ACOWAR #ACOMAF #Fan Fiction #sarah j maas #Fan Fic #Angst

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wiselemonpie · 7 years

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Loyally Mated Part 3 {Feysand Fic}

This is part 3. Thank you for reading. I love writing. You can find Part1 and Part2 here. It may take longer for part 4, because my exams are starting next week, they are weekly. So… we will see. :)

@the-bookish-soul

Feyre woke up in the forest a little disoriented, how did she end up here? She couldn’t tell what was happening. She stood up and started walking in a slow pace, it was dark, and the sun hadn’t risen yet.

She tried to focus and find her way out, looking at the stars for guidance. Feyre always looked to the stars for wisdom, strength, fearlessness and guidance. She never knew why, it was an automatic response she had. Then she heard footsteps, somewhat close to her.

Could it be Rhys? she thought. Maybe he was looking for her. Feyre had to see, and look for him. But something stopped her, what if it wasn’t Rhys? She needed to be sure, before giving her location. After all, she was a warrior too, she knew how to fight in hand to hand combat. However she hadn’t master a weapon yet.

Feyre listened closely, she needed to remember how Rhys moved in the forest, when he found her in the river after the mating ceremony, she barely heard his noise, and she only smelled him when he was close enough, the smell of starlight and mist. That was it, she had to smell him. Moving light and soundlessly she started sniffing. Nothing, Rhys was not here, then who? Then the smell of red roses and the movement of forest magic hit her so hard, she froze.

She didn’t know what to do. Could she run? Could she escape? Did he see her? Did he felt her? He probably did, he was so close to her. She had to run, find haven, and be free. Because if Tamlin took on a hold on her, everything will be over.

So, Feyre did the only thing she could do, she ran and ran. She didn’t care her legs protested, she wouldn’t stop. Not now, not ever. She cursed when she heard Tamlin growl. Feyre twisted her head, to see how far he was, but she only saw him shift to a wolf-like animal, with antlers and three tails. Fear gripped her as he came closer, she screamed as a paw brushed her ankle. She heard him calling her in her mind.

Come, Feyre.

You can’t escape.

You never will.

I will always have you.

Come Feyre.

Tears stung her eyes, but she wouldn’t cry, not to him or anyone. She covered more ground and then she turned around and positioned herself in her fighting stance and when he drew near, she lifted her leg and hit him hard on the face. The animal yelped as he shifted back into Tamlin. He seemed unconscious, Feyre was breathing hard, she closed her eyes, for a second and she heard:

Feyre

Feyre!!!

She quickly opened her eyes and a body was close, too close to her. She thrust her arm with all her might and hit the body in the eye. He staggered back, cursing, apparently he was a man. That gave her the time to move away.

“Get away from me,” she growled.

A soothing voice emanated from the man saying, “Feyre, calm down, it was a dream, you are alright, you are safe, and you are free.” He said it emphasizing every word.

Dream, but it was so real, she breathed and took in her surrounding; she was in a room, a bedroom. She could see the armoire, the bookshelf, the balcony. Rhys, Rhys’ room. Feyre tried to recognize the man, a smell hit her; mist and starlight with the magic of darkness.

“Rhys?” She asked slowly.

“I am here, I will always be.” He intoned so soothingly.

She breathe and relaxed. Feyre moved closer to him, taking small steps. He didn’t hesitate, he move gracefully and pulled her in into a hug, comforting her. She gladly took it. It was a dream she told him and he kept saying she was free. She could feel her heart racing or was it his, she felt? Feyre moved away first. Then she remembered she punched him hard on the face.

“Rhys, your eye, it’s bleeding.” She said worriedly.

“Well, you did punch me hard, may I say good technique you have there. I see promised.” Rhys’ voice was full of glee.

“Don’t joke with me Rhysand, if could get infected.” Feyre said as she moved to get a small towel for his face in the night stand.

“Oh, now we are going to full names, are we Feyre, darling.” He said as he followed her, as if he needed her heat as much as she did his.

“How did I manage to hit you any way, aren’t you a highly trained warrior?”

Feyre move closer to him with the towel, cleaning his face.

“I am, but whenever I am around you, I get distracted by you.” He stated boldly.

Thank the Gods it was still dark so he didn’t see her blush. Just then, did she realized that Rhys didn’t have a shirt on. That she hugged a man, her mate without a shirt. That, that same man told her she was distracting. Did the Gods hear her before, when she was thinking about him without a shirt? She tried to act normal, finished cleaning his face and then she asked.

“Why are you naked?” Her voice was a bit too out of breath. Damn, she cursed herself. That beautiful torso and the pectorals with the swirls tattoos coming and going from his front to back. STOP she said to herself if she continued, she would faint–

“I am not naked, I have pants on."

"I meant, why do you only have pants, where is your shirt?"

"Do you like what you see?” He winked.

Feyre only looked at him, using all her force not to nod and keep a blank stare. Gods, he was a hand full.

“Okay fine, I heard you screaming and I ran like hell thinking you were in danger.” Rhys explained, then she noticed he was holding a sword very tightly.

“Well that explains the lack of clothing and the sword.” She took a sit at the edge of the bed. He followed her, he seemed as if he were to say something, but he stopped and froze. Feyre looked up and said, “Rhys?” However he wasn’t looking at her but past her.

Rhys was at a loss of words. He kept stammering and didn’t know what to say.

Feyre turned around to see what was he looking at, but she actually had an idea what was it. She saw it, it was Rhys’ special book, and she probably tossed it while she was in the nightmare. She turned back to him and pursed her lips. He seemed mortified, ashamed and afraid at the same time. She never thought she would live to see the day where Rhysand, Heir of the Northern Tribe was afraid.

Feyre cleared her throat, “I—umh— I found the book on your bookshelf. It was quite…” She tried to look for an appropriate word. “—explicit” she said at last.

Rhys eyed widened, he was still processing this it seemed. “Cassian gave it me.” He finally blurted out.

Feyre couldn’t help as her lips quirked upward, she couldn’t believe he was so flustered. She thought the book was weird at first, now she just thought it was funny. “Yeah, I could tell, I read the dedication,” she mused. “Quite a friend you have."

He seemed about to explode. Feyre couldn’t help it anymore, she burst out laughing. Rhys now seemed confused, but he started to laugh a long with her, because her laugh was contagious. When the laughing ended she asked what she wanted to ask him earlier in dinner.

"Do—do you want that?” She said in a low voice. She was surprised she asked, she thought it wouldn’t just die in her throat. Did she really just asked that? What kind of question was that? She had to know, though. It was imperative she know.

He stammered again, but a little amusingly he said, “Feyre, darling, I have as much experience with that as you do. This is all new to me.” For emphasis he showed her his forearms, with the mating ceremony. If he had experience he wouldn’t have been able to mate. For now, the mating lines were still just lines, once consummated those lines would swirl around into intricate patterns.

“You know,” Rhys said breaking the silence. “You have a beautiful laugh. It’s really contagious. I never thought I actually hear it."

A small smile was forming in her lips. He never thought he would hear her laugh. "Why,” she said curiously. “Why didn’t you?”

“I wasn’t the best gentleman towards you before, I treated you wrongly and you didn’t deserve it. I thought you would rather mate with any other than me. I tried to push you away, mostly because of Isaac, I didn’t want to hurt him either. But you were so devastatingly beautiful, strong willed, braver than I’ll ever be, that I kept following you and kept falling more for you. I couldn’t stay away and I wanted to make it up for everything I did to you. I am so sorry, could you ever forgive me?” His voice was so truthful, her heart broke as she look into his eyes and his eyes never left hers.

Feyre thought of all those mood swings Rhys used to have. When he was caring at first and cold the next. Like if everything they shared was nothing. All those days thinking what might have triggered his detachment. Not just this past day, but two weeks before, when she first arrived at the capitol. Before she lived in town close to the Western Tribe; Isaac’s tribe. Where they met all the time. Ever since she got here Rhys was all she could think about. But the constant detachment made her steel walls grow. But now, everything shattered, she was bare, he was bare. They could see each other utterly and entirely.

“I forgive you, Rhys.” She told him.

Feyre couldn’t believe what she felt in her own heart, what she felt emanating from him as she spoke her words. She could feel his magic, the darkness shifting, from the stiffness, nightmare warrior to the soothing, dreamer knight. His magic added up to hers so thoroughly, she felt the soft caress of it, as it expanded to her and filled the room. Her own magic danced and twirl around his. Feyre was conscious that he could feel it too, so Rhys’ magic grew, but her magic wasn’t left behind. She threw her magic to take a hold of his, their tattoos brighten turning gold, that was the only light in the room.

Rhys reached for her hands, “Gods, Feyre,” he said breathlessly. As a powerful cooling darkness flew through her and swooned. “It feels do good to hold your hand,” he finally said.

Now it was her turn to be at a loss of words. She didn’t know what to say, but it didn’t last long because he continued, “Feyre, darling, I never heard a more beautiful name, I feel as if I could not go on with my life with you in it. May— may I court you Feyre?"

His eyes glittered and shunned, he was serious she thought, more than serious, he was hesitant, expecting her to turn him down but also expecting her to say yes. She couldn’t believe the uncertainty in his eyes, in those dark violet eyes, that resemble his magic. So she just said showing him her arm, "Don’t you think you are doing this, the other way around.” A smile forming in her lips, at the little teasing.

But he didn’t grin, or rolled his eyes or replied with a snarky remark. He look as he had his answer and was ready to leave. He didn’t know she was teasing, she couldn’t believe it. Then he took a step back, trying to release her other hand. Feyre wouldn’t take it, she held firm, as he once had. To save him from making a mistake and leave, she took steps toward him. She was so close, she heard his breath ragged, heard the pumping of her own heart. Feyre wouldn’t let him leave, he had to know.

“I would love that very much, Rhys, Fy Seren.” My star. That is she told him, his eyes widened, Feyre seized him by the cheeks and kissed him deeply. Rhys didn’t stiffened at her touch, as if he was waiting for her to just that. He kissed her back, as first slowly not wanting his magic to drown her, but she didn’t hold back and sent all of her into him. Rhys smiled as he felt the sparks, the darkness, the obliteration of everything, with every touch, so he deepened the kiss. She became oblivious, to everything but him. He pulled her close, as their bodies were now so close it looked like one.

He was still without a shirt, but she wasn’t going to protest anytime soon. Rhys lifted her up and walked towards the bed, not once breaking the kiss, she longed for gods knew how. He lounged slowly, still sending more magic towards her and her magic singing in his pattern, and only his. She could live like this she thought, every day, waking up and seeing Rhys, kissing him so deeply that she couldn’t get enough, just living with Rhys.

Feyre broke the kiss to look at him, just to look at him at her friend, her husband, her mate. She realized she too couldn’t go back to how things where before, that she couldn’t move on, not without Rhys. He appeared so undeniable happy, “Sleep, darling.” His lips moved slowly in her ear.

“Stay, Fy Seren, sleep with me.”

“With pleasure,” without shifting to much, he settled next to her and held her close. She scooted closer, she never felt like this before, like she belonged, like she was free to make her own choices. Being mated to Rhys was not the most horrible thing that happened to her. It was a gift, a gift to her and Rhys all of it. Feyre close her eyes and was drifting to sleep, as she heard him whisper, “My mate."

#part 3 of loyally mated #feyrexrhys #feysand #mates

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azrielsiphons · 7 years

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Prequel; Azriel-Centric Stories Set Before ACOTAR (ch. 8)

This is a collection of interconnected short stories about Azriel’s life before any of the events of ACTOAR through ACOWAR.

CHAPTER 8: LENA

Make sure to read Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 4.5, Ch 5, Ch 6, Ch 7, Ch 9, Ch 10

Read the follow-up fic Shadows and Darkness: One and the Same

Time Frame: Immediately after the events of Chapter 7 - 2 months before Rhys is made High Lord

Summary: Aeron summons his Shadowsinger and Commander to his office the morning after the events on the bridge between Azriel and Lena. As he walks through the House of Wind, Azriel recalls the events that happened after Rhys was rescued from Amarantha’s camp during the War.

NOTE: Only two chapters after this one friends! Then begins the fic that this prequel has been leading up to, Shadows and Darkness: One and the Same, set during and after ACOWAR. Please enjoy and reblog!

It was before daybreak that Azriel was summoned to High Lord Aeron’s office. As he laced his boots, perched on the edge of his bed, he wondered if Lena had gotten any sleep. He certainly hadn’t.

“I see you.”

“And I see you.”

He still couldn’t quite believe it. That Lena — his Lena — had impossibly chosen him. That they were doing… whatever it was they were doing. Courting, pursuing one another, being together, whatever the label was, they were doing it. They had chosen one another.

His Lena — likely the most powerful fae in Prythian as soon as she mastered her powers, the kindest and most passionate individual he had ever met, the most beautiful female inside and out — had chosen him. Sleep had been a far concept when he had the way she had looked at him to dream about instead.

And even though every bone in his body was saying to go to her and hold her and scream from the rooftops that she had chosen him, he knew that they had to be secretive. He was selfish enough to have her, but not selfish enough to condemn her to whatever awful consequences her father would subject her to if he found out.

The Daughter of the Night Court with an Illyrian bastard Shadowsinger. Aeron would disown her — or worse. Wren might fight for them, but she would lose.

He didn’t want to think about what Rhys would do.

No, if he was going to be with her — and he couldn’t pull himself away at this point — he would do everything in his power to make sure she wouldn’t be damned for it. Even if that meant looking at her from afar and resting in the knowledge that she had chosen him all on his own.

The world didn’t have to know. As long as they knew.

With a deep breath and a roll of his shoulders, Azriel exited his room and walked through the quiet House to Aeron’s office. He didn’t fear Aeron — at least not for himself. He only loathed the male. For the way he treated Wren, the way he underestimated Lena, the way he spoke to Rhys and Cassian.

Azriel would never forget the day that Rhys was rescued from Amarantha’s camp during the War and he and Cassian received the order not to remove the ash bolts still embedded in Rhys’s wings. They had taken him to the cabin, Cassian and Azriel carrying Rhys between them, blood trailing behind them in the snow.

Rhys’s screams of pain would always haunt him. As would what followed when Wren and Lena arrived.

~~~~~

6 years prior

Azriel was sitting outside, elbows propped on his knees. Rhys was sleeping — finally. It had taken Cassian almost laying on top of him for Azriel to be able to shove the sleeping and pain relief herbs into Rhys’s mouth and force him to chew.

His screams… Azriel had seen and partaken in many horrible things in his lifetime. He was no saint. But nothing that he had seen or done would likely ever haunt him the way that the sound of Rhys’s screams did. Those ash bolts were deep within the membrane of his wings. The moment they had gone to remove them Aeron had told them no — to leave them.

Azriel couldn’t believe it. Aeron was a cruel male and a cruel father, but to leave the bolts in Rhys’s wings was… as cruel as it got. Azriel and Cassian were ready to go against the order until Aeron had said if they removed them before the week was over he would kill all three of them.

So they had taken him to the cabin to heal. Azriel had expended almost all of his magic winnowing them there, and now Rhys was finally asleep, Cassian had passed out shortly after, and Azriel was… he didn’t now what he was doing.

He was so tired. This War was too much. The things Aeron was making him do, the fact that he couldn’t fight alongside his brothers and had to do Aeron’s dirty work instead, it was too much. Having to do what he did and then look Wren in the eye, the wonderful woman who had taken him in as a favor to his mother, who thought of him as her own and deserved infinitely better than Aeron, it was too much. Having to look Lena in the eye, Rhys’s 16 year old sister that adored him and he thought the world of and was forced to watch and do nothing as her brother constantly walked into battle, it was too much.

He was just so tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of who he was turning into.

Just as his eyes started to flutter shut, he heard the flapping of wings far off in the night sky. He was up and at the ready immediately, blade in his hand. He couldn’t tell who it was, but there were two Illyrians flying straight for the cabin, that was for sure.

He waited, biding his time before he called out to Cassian. But then as they got closer, the blade dropped to his side and his shoulders relaxed. He sheathed it at his back, knowing there was no danger. At least not for now.

As soon as the cabin came into Lena’s view, she shot ahead of her mother. Azriel started, sure that he had never seen anyone fly as fast as she was in that moment. Wren shouted, but Lena paid her no mind, landing hard about fifteen feet ahead of where Azriel stood, snow blowing up around her at the impact.

“Where is he?” She spat, panting heavily, hair strewn wildly around her flushed face.

“Lena—”

“Where is he?” She repeated, a low growl coming out from deep within her chest. She stalked right up to Azriel and tried to shove him aside, but he reached out and grabbed her wrist lightly. She froze, looking up and glaring at him, her body trembling with restraint.

The sheer power she emanated felt like an arrow to his chest.

“Let me go, Azriel,” she said lowly, threatening. He had never seen her like this before.

“You need to calm down first,” he told her softly. “He’s sleeping, he’s needs to rest in order to heal.”

Wren was closing in behind Lena, and Azriel had a feeling she had slowed down intentionally.

“Is he��” Lena swallowed thickly, her violet eyes filling with tears. “Is he going to—”

“He’ll live,” Azriel said assuredly. Lena released a heavy breath, her body relaxing as she took the hand that Azriel had around her wrist and squeezed it tightly.

“Okay,” she whispered, breath hitching as the tears began to fall freely. He wanted to reach out and wipe them away, but knew it would be inappropriate. “Okay.”

Wren touched down and Azriel turned, dropping Lena’s hand.

“Azriel,” Rhys’s mother said, completely composed but also completely serious. “Where is he?”

“Inside,” he said simply, turning and meeting Lena’s eyes once more before leading them into the cabin. Cassian jumped up from where he was sprawled out on the couch the moment the door opened, his eyes dark with exhaustion and worry.

No one said anything. Cassian cleared his throat and motioned for the females to follow him. Azriel trailed behind Lena, keeping an eye on the rigidity of her shoulders and the way her hands trembled.

As Cassian opened the door to the bedroom where Rhys was laying on his stomach with his wings stretched out, fast asleep, Lena hesitated while her mother went right in.

Azriel stepped forward, placing a hand on her shoulder. At his touch she loosed a breath, swallowing thickly before stepping into the room.

Azriel thanked the Cauldron for the domestic magic of the cabin. The blood seeping from Rhys’s wings was constantly being magicked away so Lena and Wren couldn’t see how bad it was.

But it was still awful. Black veins spread out from where a single ash bolt was struck through each of Rhys’s wings. His cheek was pressed against the pillow, his skin pale and clammy. Even in his sleep his breathing was shallow.

Wren remained completely composed — though Azriel noted the way she was holding her breath — as she walked around Cassian and knelt at the edge of the bed, taking Rhys’s hand in her own.

“My boy,” she whispered, smoothing back his hair from his forehead. “My sweet boy.”

Lena was frozen to the spot, choked sobs bubbling up from deep within her chest. Tears streamed down her face as she covered her mouth with her hand and ran from the room, shoving Azriel aside in the process.

Azriel took off after her without a second thought, following her out the cabin and back into the biting cold of the night.

“Lena!” He called out. Lena only ran harder for the tree line, her legs and arms pumping fast and hard. Every time her feet hit the ground there was a flare of dark magic behind her.

She fell to the ground at the tree line, dropping to her knees and vomiting in the snow.

Azriel slowed as he came up behind her, his siphons flaring as they sensed the power radiating from her.

He said nothing, only knelt behind her and pulled her hair back as she began to dry heave. With his other hand he rubbed soothing circles on her back. Eventually her heaving stopped and she entire body shook with her sobs.

Azriel remained silent as she turned and fell into his chest, clutching onto his shoulders with trembling hands as she cried against him. He held her tightly to his chest, pressing his cheek to the top of her head.

“I hate him,” she whispered suddenly, voice small but firm. He knew who she was talking about. “I absolutely hate him.”

“I know.”

“How could he do this?” She spat, sitting up to meet Azriel’s eyes. “It’s his son. It’s destroying my mother, his mate. How can he not care?”

Azriel didn’t have an answer. “I don’t know.”

Lena let out a filthy curse, stumbling out of Azriel’s hold and standing to her feet. Azriel followed suit, trailing after her warily as she began to pace angrily, her power still flaring.

“It’s wrong. It’s just wrong,” she muttered, running her hands through her hair wildly. “He’s treating us like the enemy when he needs to be making sure Rhys is healthy and safe so he can help defeat the actual enemy. This is bullshit!”

Her powers flared out several meters, melting the snow around them. It cascaded around Azriel though, not touching him.

“Lena, come inside,” Azriel said gently, waking to her at a slow pace. “Sit with Rhys. He’ll need you when he wakes up.”

Lena laughed humorlessly, meeting Azriel’s eyes. There was a sadness there he had never seen before and never wanted to see again.

“No,” she said in a dead voice. “No Az, what my brother needs is to be rid of my father. That’s what we all need.”

Azriel froze. “Lena—”

“I’m going to kill him.”

“Lena stop!”

He saw that she was winnowing just in time, reaching out and grabbing her elbow and being ripped across space with her. Her power whipped around them, warm darkness cradling them as they were flung across not just the Night Court, but all of Prythian.

A second later and they were in the Spring Court, just outside of the mortal lands in a forest. The sounds of the camp where Aeron and the Night Court army resided awaited below them.

Before Azriel could make a move beyond his complete and utter disbelief that she had winnowed them that far at just 16 years old and with hardly any training, Lena tore her hand away from his and began stomping out of the tree line and towards the camp.

Right for her father.

“Lena!” Azriel hissed, reaching out and grabbing her around the waist, lifting her off the ground and pulling her back.

“Let me go!” She screamed, thrashing in his hold. She scratched and tore at his leathers, her nails pulling at the always sensitive scar tissue on his hands. “Azriel let me go!”

“Stop it, stop it,” he hissed, putting his hand over her mouth as he pulled her back into the tree line. He cursed as she bit his hand, dropping her back to her feet. “Dammit Lena!”

He looked down at his hand where her canines had pierced the skin, blood dripping from his fingers to the ground below. Lena froze, her eyes widening.

“Shit,” she whispered. “Shit, shit… Azriel I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to—”

“What the hell, Lena?” He snapped, keeping his voice low. “What are you thinking? Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

Realization seemed to set in and Lena’s breath hitched, her shoulders falling. “I didn’t… I just saw Rhys and I—”

“You didn’t think. Lena you have to think before you do.” He reached out and grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to look at him. “You are… stronger than I realized,” he admitted. “And I know you’re angry, believe me I know. Do you think I didn’t want to rip your father limb from limb when I got that order? When I had to wash my best friend’s blood off of my hands, my clothes?” Lena sniffed, biting her lip as she tried to hold back her tears. “I was so livid I couldn’t think straight. But if I had disobeyed your father, or flown out here and tried to kill him…”

Azriel reached up with his hand that wasn’t bleeding and caught Lena’s cheek in his hand.

“You would suffer for it. Your mother would suffer for it. Cassian, Rhys, me, everyone… They would all suffer because of my lack of control. I know you care about us and about your court. And if you go down there and try to kill your father, I’m going to have to go down there too and we’ll both get killed.”

“I wouldn’t let that happen.”

Azriel chuckled sadly. “I know you would try. But even if you’re stronger than your father, he has centuries of control and training under his belt.”

“Well what do I do, Azriel?” She choked out. “What do I do? I can’t sit here and watch my brother in pain and do nothing!”

“You wait,” he said quickly. “You wait, you bide your time. And then when this War is over and you and Rhys master that power deep within you…”

He trailed off, seeing the realization in her eyes. She took a deep breath, her eyes widening.

“I wait,” she said softly.

Azriel smiled. “You wait. You get him back for everything he’s done to you when the time is right and you can make it hurt.”

“And you’ll be with me?”

Azriel smiled, chuckling as he pulled her into an embrace, his arms wrapping around her shoulders and hers around his waist tightly.

“Every step of the way. I’d want nothing more than to serve you as High Lady.”

Lena scoffed, shaking her head against his chest. “As if that would ever happen.”

“It will. Just wait.”

~~~~~

Azriel shook off the memory with a deep breath as he continued walking down the hall in the House of Wind to Aeron’s office. That had been 6 years ago. Just 6 years ago and so much had changed. And yet so much was the same.

He had meant what he had said though. If Lena came to him tomorrow and said she was ready to kill Aeron and take his place as High Lady he would be right by her side. He would have been willing to do that even if the night prior on the bridge had never happened.

“What are you thinking so hard about?”

Azriel rolled his eyes as he walked up on Cassian, who had been waiting on him. They had been called to the High Lord’s office together.

“Nothing.”

“Liar,” Cassian huffed as they stepped in time. “You have that line between your eyes.”

Azriel turned and looked at him with a raised brow. Lena said the same thing. He needed to work on his tells.

“It’s nothing,” he muttered.

“You sure?” Cassian asked, worry coating his voice. “After Lena left last night, you were a bit…”

Azriel realized Cassian’s train of thought with a start. All he knew was that the night prior he and Lena had fought and then she had left with another male. That’s all anyone knew.

And it had to stay that way. To protect them both.

“It’s fine, brother,” Azriel said with a smile. “Lena and I are fine. She’s always mad at me, it’s nothing new.”

Cassian made a humming noise that said he didn’t quite believe him, but wasn’t going to push it.

Cauldron bless Cassian.

They stepped up to Aeron’s office, Azriel taking the lead and knocking on the heavy door.

“Come in.”

They stepped into the office that they both had been in the office more times than they cared for. Azriel longed for the day he would walk into this office with Rhys or Lena at the head instead of their father.

“I need you two to go scout the camps,” Aeron said bluntly, cutting right to the chase.

Cassian tensed. “Is something wrong, sir? My men are—”

“Your men are fine,” Aeron snapped, clearly not wanting to waste any time. “I need you to find me your best though. I want you to go to every single camp, watch every single Illyrian train. Then bring me the best.”

Azriel cleared his throat. “Anything in particular we are looking for sir? It would help if we—”

“I need mercenaries.”

Azriel and Cassian froze.

“Mercenaries, sir?”

Aeron inhaled deeply through his nose, sitting down at his heavy chair and looking at Cassian and Azriel with disdain.

“My visit to the Spring Court was… less than productive.”

Azriel forced himself not to react. Lena had told them how her father had taken her to the Spring Court in hopes of a romantic partnership between she and Tamlin. It hadn’t happened and the tension between Aeron and the High Lord of Spring had only increased exponentially.

“I want to make sure that the Spring Lord doesn’t get any ideas,” Aeron continued. “And if he does, then we will be prepared.”

He’s preparing for another war already, Azriel thought to himself with a twinge of fear.

“I expect you two at the nearest camp before the sun rises,” Aeron said, looking down at reports on his desk, clearly dismissing them.

Cassian hesitated, but a look from Azriel had the pair walking out of the office. They parted ways, each going to their own room to grab their things and be in the air within the next five minutes.

As Azriel’s door clicked shut behind him, he hesitated. Visiting all of the camps would take weeks… weeks away from Velaris less than twelve hours after he and Lena had become whatever they were to each other now. And he didn’t have any proper time to tell her.

He could fly up to her balcony and wake her. But she needed her rest. She would be livid with him for leaving without a word, but…

There was another option.

In two strides Azriel was reaching into his desk and pulling out a pen and a piece of paper. He wrote quickly, his slanted handwriting legible but messier than usual in his hurry. He read over it once before folding it three times.

“Nuala. Cerridwen,” Azriel whispered, knowing the wraiths would hear him with their mysterious magic. The two females were Lena’s handmaidens and friends.

The twins appeared silently, eyes wide. They had had very few interactions with the Shadowsinger.

“Yes?” Nuala asked in a whisper.

Azriel took a small step forward, not wanting to startle the females as he held out the note to them.

“Will you deliver this to Lena, please?”

Cerridwen’s eyes lit up, a smile overtaking her features. A glance from her sister had her schooling her features once again.

“Of course,” Nuala said evenly.

“I know that you two care about her as I do,” Azriel said. “Please make sure that that note does not end up in anyone else’s hands.”

The twins nodded in sync, Cerridwen’s smile still in plain sight even as she tried to hide it. Without another word, they vanished. Azriel loosed a breath, closing his eyes and seeing Lena’s face.

He could survive a few weeks.

~~~~~

Lena —

I’m sorry that I couldn’t bring myself to wake you. You can throttle me over it when I return. Your father is sending Cassian and I to scout the camps for a few weeks. Try not to miss us too much.

There are thousands of words in my heart that I wish to say to you every day only to be overwhelmed by your smile the moment I move to utter them. You are everything, Lena. You are my every dream come to life. For so long I believed the Cauldron to be cruel for trapping me in darkness. And then darkness set me free — not only in my shadows, but in you. You set me free. The Cauldron cannot be so cruel if it allowed me to know you. 

I do not know when we will be back from the camps, but I do know that I will think of you every day. As I always have. I am selfish enough to hope that you think of me as well. I beg of you to stay safe, but if you will not stay safe, stay convicted of who you are: strong, powerful and capable.

 Yours — always,  Azriel

#acomaf fanfiction #acowar fanfiction #azriel #azriel x oc #azriel fanfiction #TWO MORE CHAPTERSSSSSS #the last chapter of the prequel will have a very exciting sneak peak at SAD OATS andI'm SO EXCITED for yalls reactions #please leave comments and do fun tags or message me your thoughts #and of course reblog and like and such #yall are the best !

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highladyofthenightcourt5 · 7 years

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Safe at Last (Part 6):

Here it is guys! the last section of this fan fiction! It’s been a great ride with y’all! Let me know your reactions to the twist and if any one has tried to mimic this scene before!

Since it’s my last time posting this fic, I’ll tag everyone from Part 5 at the end. But really quick SHOUT OUT to @theassassinsbooks I am SO sorry I didn’t post yesterday! Life got in the way and I was so upset because you were dying to read it lol.

@heirofthebookstore @samaykay912 @adiposesherlock @bats-and-hawks @ojt64 @cchcutie @micmac21 @mynamestartswithaz @huntress-of-velaris @wtfsarahjmaas @acourtofcrowsandhallows @feysand17 thanks for all the comments and supports! Its so motivating! And without further ado.....

Sections:

Part 1:

Part 2:

Part 3:

Part 4:

Part 5:

The silk sheets envelope me in a silent embrace as I snuggle further into the warm bed. Relishing the crispness of the sheets and the soft glow of the early morning light. I sigh contentedly, stretching out my arms until they bump into warm skin and I almost pull back in alarm until I catch the familiar smoldering scent of smoke and citrus.

A quiet smile overtakes my features as I wrap my arms around his broad torso and entangle my legs with his. Content to spend the rest of my days safe in his arms and with my head burrowed into the crook his neck. He responds by looping his arms around my thin frame and hugging me to him, his warm breath ruffling loose strands of my hair.

For a while we remain in that blissful silence, relishing the sensations of our bodies back in each other’s embraces.

That is…until Rhysand decided it was time to get up.

His fingers move from their position on my lower back and make their way towards my side, his fingers drawing out lazy circles as he stirs my sensitive nerves. I mumble into his chest something to the effect of “stop it” and swat his hands away as I try to physically meld myself to his body.

His only response is a soft chuckle before he continues the same damn thing on my back, this time allowing the broad expanse of his hand to slip up underneath my nightgown and continue the same motions down my spine. I only hum comfortably at the free massage which he takes as permission to cup my backside and guide my leg over his hip, pressing our bodies flush against each other as he leaves a delicious trail of kisses down the slope of my neck. He nudges the thin strap of my nightgown with his lips, exposing the tender flesh of my shoulder that has me leaning into his touch.

“Feyre darling…” He whispers into the crook of my neck, the soft caress his breath sending a spark of electricity down my spine. And cauldron damn me if that didn’t catch my attention.

I finally muster the strength to peek at my mate, his beautiful violet eyes the first thing I see as his wings shelter me from the sun’s harsher rays.

“Yes.” I whisper. Enjoying this little game between us.

His lips only pull into a gorgeous smile as he drags me into his arms and smothers me with playful kisses. I giggle stupidly against him as his head ducks to place quick kisses across my collar bone and down towards my cleavage, his warm breath drifting down the front of my nightgown.

My flesh is already growing hot as I cup his face and press his lips to mine. Deepening the kiss as his tongue explores my mouth and entices me to a dance of tongue and teeth and roaming hands that only make me want to combust.

I can’t stop the pitiful moan that escapes my lips as he nibbles the soft flesh of my ears and slowly grazes the column of my throat with his canines. Meticulously drawing out this delicious torture. My fingers dig into his hair as he soothes the sensitive flesh along my neck with a slow swipe of his tongue. In the midst of this pleasurable haze, I spy his large wings hovering over us and a wicked smile overtakes my features. Silently, I slip one hand from his hair and allow my finger nail to oh-so slowly drag across the sensitive membrane.

It’s like a trigger.

He jolts in surprise, forgetting all too quickly his plans with me and emits a low groan. And Cauldron be damned if that didn’t turn me on.

“Look who’s sensitive now.” I whisper against his ear and he shudders as I press my heated palm in the center of his right wing. “What would I give to hear you groan one more time for me.” I taunt and he responds with a restrained smile as he tries to not pin me to the bed.

“Are you done teasing me?” He growls.

“Not quite. I want to try something first.”

The second those words left those sensuous lips, I knew I was done for. There would be no saving me as she got on her knees and approached me. Sinking slightly in the bed as she coaxed my wings to their full length.

My body is a trembling mess of anxiety and hormones as she studies the silky membrane, those gray eyes ever so calculating before they land on me and for a quick moment she simply stares, mouth slightly parted as if she has never seen me before.

“You look beautiful.” She whispers and I can’t keep a smug grin off my face.

“I’ve been told.”

“No…but with the sun behind you…” She doesn’t finish and I catch my reflection in those soulful eyes. The sun’s delicate rays breaking apart around my wings and casting a soft glow as if I were encased in an ethereal halo.

Her eyes are the brightest blue as she leans forward again, this time pressing those gods-damned lips against my wing and I almost unleash the beast rumbling inside. My hands are claws as I pull at every ounce of restrain and then, as if to torture me even more, I feel the soft brush of her tongue. My pupils dilate within seconds and I can’t even formulate words to make her stop.

With a quick shove, I barrel the intense sensations down the bond and she yelps as I overwhelm her with the gods-damned sensation of those lips. She’s a lustful mess as I grip her in my arms, trying to carry her though our pleasure as my lips seek hers and bury my moan in her mouth, praying to the cauldron that Cassian doesn’t hear me. I would never hear the end of it.

She lets out a sweet sigh, my name her only speech as her eyes continue to dilate. Despite my own ineptitude at the moment, I manage to hold her in my arms until we collapse in an exhaustive heap on the bed. Still recovering from the intense pleasure.

“You weren’t kidding about that.” She whispers and I only give her a rueful glare.

I spent the next few weeks alternating between resting and reuniting with my inner circle. Mor was a constant whirlwind of activity while Amren invited me to spend the afternoon with her in her rooms where we spent those few hours in blissful camaraderie. Cassian was full of his usual taunts and constant mentioning of Rhys needing a good lay. Which I of course, offered gladly in private but was always turned down with Rhy’s imperative “no.” Partly as a result of our first morning together and the chain of events after that.

“But why not?” I pout in bed as Rhys continues to dress despite my numerous attempts to seduce him, including today where I had dressed in a sheer midnight nightgown and had slyly revealed the lacy garter encircling my upper thigh…

“Because you almost died two weeks ago after being poisoned by the High Lord of Spring and almost completely depleted of all your powers. That’s why.” He responded matter of factly.

“What does that have to do with anything!” I whine. “I’m fine now.” I assure him as I approach his still dressing form. He had only turned around and crushed me to his chest, pressing tender kisses to the top of my head.

“Because I want you to fully heal and I want to make sure you’re safe.” He had murmured and I had stopped bugging him after that.

Meanwhile Azriel, as always, was reserved but I could gauge his relief at finding me safe. Elain and Nesta, on the other hand, were an entirely other matter. Sweet Elain had practically flown into my arms and cried onto my shoulder. Blubbering on and on about how happy she was that I had been found on time and that everyone has been so kind to Nesta and her. While Nesta had only given me a cold greeting at breakfast that first day before disappearing somewhere in the house of wind.

“Don’t take it to heart. She feels ashamed of her past treatment with you. She doesn’t know how to swallow her pride and come to you. But she will.” Rhys had whispered into my ear and I had nodded, if not a bit sullenly.

Now I was seated in Rhysand’s office, lounging rather un-ladylike on one of his office chairs as he focuses on some documents with a drink in his hand. After a few minutes of silence he downs his drink and turns to face me. Eyes wary as he sets down his glass and pulls me onto his lap, nuzzling my hair and breathing in my scent.

“I’ve been waiting for you to recover before I would ask you this.” He murmurs and I shift to face him. Eyebrows furrowed in bewilderment as I try to glean any meaning from his mind, which he quickly closes off. He takes a steadying breath before continuing; “I want to introduce you to your court Feyre. As High Lady of the Night Court.”

I grow still in his arms, processing everything he’s telling me . “As of now, only the inner circle knows about your status and I want you take your place beside me…as my queen.” My heart nearly jolts to a stop at those words. My queen.

“It doesn’t have to be now it can be—“

“Yes.” I whisper. So subtly that for a moment I fear he might not have heard me. “Yes…I want to be introduced…I want everyone to know…” I lean forward and cup his cheek, staring into those midnight eyes “that the High Lord of the Night Court is my king and that he is my mate.” I breathe and he lets out a quiet sigh as he burrows his face into the crook of my neck. Our tears sinking into the thin fabric of our tunics as we held onto all that we had ever hoped to want.

It can be said that he finally relented to my advances that night.

We had decided to hold the coronation the following week and I had decided to leave Cerridwen and Nuala in charge of dressing their first High Lady as I prepared her entrance in the throne room back at the Hewn City.

The week had passed in a flurry of excitement as the inner circle helped prepare for their High Lady’s coronation. Mor and -surprisingly- Amren volunteered to help Feyre design a dress which I was not allowed to see. Cassian and Azriel had pledged their loyalty in the case of an uproar in the Court of Nightmares.

Now, seated on my throne in the Court of Nightmares, my nerves are getting the best of me as I try to play the cool nonchalance required of me in front the intimidating crowd. They would not be pleased, seeing as her last visit required her to dress in next to nothing and sit on my lap as a pretty pet. Hopefully, if all went well, I would introduce Feyre to Velaris tomorrow.

I almost jolt from my chair when the courtiers announce her arrival. They simply call her “Mistress Feyre” still unaware of the bombshell I’m about to drop. I rise from my chair but nearly fall back in my seat as Feyre appears behind the massive doorway dressed in midnight glittering silk, a regal cape pinned to her shoulders giving the impression of an ominous trail of darkness. Her beautiful golden locks are pinned behind her fae ears, her head tilted ever so slightly as I walk down the steps of the throne room and grab her hand.

The minute I stepped into the throne room, I feared I would run back the way I came. The eyes of all of Rhy’s subjects were on me, none of them reflecting the genuine kindness and respect that I had grown accustomed to in Velaris.

However I catch sight of Rhysand in all of his ruling glory and suddenly my heart grows still. I take my time to admire the regal cut of his tunic, the glittering simplicity of his crown, and the grace that he used to step down those damn stairs and approach me. All the while his eyes never leaving mine as he takes my hand and proceeds to walk me towards his throne. His throne…

Where only months ago was one throne cut from the harshest obsidian and speckled with thousands of miniature diamonds. Was now two, one slightly slenderer than the other and more curvier in its shape but just as magnificent. I swallow the dryness in my throat and notice the dawning taking over some of the people’s features.

Rhysand turns to face his people at the base of the two thrones and raises our hands in the air. “Today is a day that will be forever marked in the history of Prythian. Today is the day when the Night Court will have a new ruler. A ruler just as competent, graceful, and intelligent as I. She will break all ties to our tradition. She will usher in a new era of peace and prosperity for our people and the people of Prythian.” Rhysand’s voice booms across the cavernous throne room, full of regal superiority and strength.

He leads me up to the base of my throne, where Azriel is standing with a small cushion in his hands, displaying for all to see a delicate version of Rhysand’s crown. It’s silver circlet weaving around its bands like that of a silver vine, intertwining until there is no beginning and no end. I gape and face Rhysand who closes my lips with a soft nudge to my chin and grabs the beautiful crown in his hands and raises it high above him, as all his subjects clamor to gain a better view as he finishes his speech.

“I hereby declare Feyre Archeron, as High Lady of the Night Court and my mate.” He announces as he places his entire court on the top of my head and motions for me to take my seat by his side.

Immediately many of his — our — subjects begin to clap and cheer, with Morrigan one of the loudest and Amren smiling in a dark corner of the room, trying to remain hidden as she gazes proudly on. Cassian stands behind Rhy’s throne while Azriel is stationed behind mine, both grinning from ear to ear.

Rhys leans over to press his lips to mine, whispering against me “What next High Lady?”

And I decided that I would enjoy this title very much.

The End

Author’s Note:

I know it was a little long, but I hope you guys enjoyed it! Did any of you expect the twist? Has anyone else done a similar scene? Anything you liked or didn’t like? I’m all ears! Thank you again and I hope to tag all of you again for a new fan fiction real soon 😘

SHOUT OUT:

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illyriantremors · 7 years

Text

Cold Water: A Mor/Az Depression Fic

Tags: Suicide, Depression, Grief, ANGST

Summary: Morrigan has a bad Christmas with her family and winds up on the rooftop of her apartment building wondering what it'd be like to jump off. Azriel finds her and in the midst of talking her down, the pair discover they have much more in common than they thought.

AN: As many of you who watch my blog may know, I struggle with a lot of mental health issues. I try not to talk about it a lot, or about Mor and Az, but a lot of you sent me messages of support recently. I had one of the best days I’ve had in months as a result, enough so that I felt capable of writing this fic that I‘ve wanted to write for some time before the moment slipped away from me. It’s meant platonically, though I’m sure you can read in to it what you want, but this was really more about me using two characters who have taught me so much to work through issues I deal with and nothing more. I hope that makes sense. And I hope you all get something out of it too. I just want to be okay again.

AO3 Linkage

Cold Water

By the time Mor slams the heavy metal door to the roof wide, her lungs are already too exhausted to take in the fresh, night air. After an hour walking through it across the city streets, it feels stale now. Dry and empty. But it doesn’t stop her from bolting to the edge of the rooftop and peering over the rail until her eyes can see the concrete several floors below.

I was standing there. No more than two minutes ago, she thinks, staring at the spot outside her apartment building’s front entrance. The spot is empty now, but it doesn’t stop her mind from racing at the thought of how she could get back there faster than she left it behind, if she wanted to. If she only dared...

Mor’s fingers clench against the railing. Her mouth parts and her lungs freeze, aching to cry out, but nothing comes out save a dry heave.

She’d wanted to cry. All the while she’d walked, since the moment she’d left the penthouse flat and didn’t wait for Rhys to catch up as he dealt with her mother’s enraged outburst at her, she’d wanted to cry. Only the fear of someone seeing, of someone knowing the truth about the fool she really was, stopped her. And now that she was alone and free to do as she pleased, of course her body protested. And it ruined Mor to no end.

Full. And empty. So full and empty at the same damned time. Every hour of every single day - starving and grossly overfilled to unbearable ends she never understood.

Off, Mor thinks, shutting her eyes and slinking down against the railing, until the open space between is cut off from stone and she can see the ground no more despite how hard she hugs the rough cut of it. Off, I just want it all off. No more, no more, no more. I want... I want...

Her mouth goes dry and her body starts to shake, reviled by the truth she nears.

I don’t want to be here anymore.

Finally the truth. And with it goes every shred of dignity or joy or hope she’s ever known.

It feels like dying without ever taking a last breath. Hung perpetually in this state of fighting without desire, decaying without end.

Mor dares to lift her head the few inches necessary to see back over the edge. The faint night breeze kisses her cheek as if knowing what she contemplates as she peers down. So easy, she thinks it would be. But also impossible.

A slight scraping noise behind her jolts her where she sits. Panic shoots down her back like an arrow through the night, its prey unprepared for the strike.

She didn’t close the door.

And then, right as realization comes, he speaks.

“Morrigan?”

She can’t quite tell whether she’s relieved or terrified that someone has found her. Most days, she secretly craves for someone to notice something’s wrong and ask. To say something. But tonight is not one of those times. Not when it’s so painfully obvious where she’s at inside this fucked up head of hers. Not when, she realizes in horror, she’s still hugging the rails half hunched over staring down below.

Her head turns. And Az is standing in the frame of the door, his face half in shadow by old yellow light above him. She can’t tell what his expression reads, but she can see he hasn’t moved since spotting her, can tell by the rigid way his body stopped mid-stride and his hand now holds the door tightly.

He knows. Fuck. He knows. No one was supposed to know...

Mor swallows, but can’t quite close her mouth all the way, her lower lip quivering too much.

He’ll tell Rhys. He’ll tell Cass. Oh fuck Cass can’t - I don’t want him to - I don’t want - don’t want -

I don’t want to be here.

Azriel drops his grip on the door as the fear floods her. But rather than rush at her or pull out his phone or do any of the nine million and twenty-seven different options Mor is scared of, he simply drops his hands and regards her thoughtfully.

“What do you want me to do, Mor?”

She doesn’t move. She doesn’t say a word.

No one has ever asked her that question before. So she never bothered contemplating an answer for the impossible moment of if they ever would.

And what does she want? Besides... the obvious. Besides what she has wanted all night ever since her mother broke the dish and snapped at her for ‘dishonoring’ her father’s memory.

The silence stretches on too long and she knows Azriel can tell she’s too lost for an answer. He nods at a spot against the rails, about a clear ten foot shot away from her. “Can I sit?” he asks.

And it’s the calm in his voice that lacks all of the panic she feels or any of the anxiety she doesn’t want him to have that makes her stare at him and nod her consent. Az closes the door behind him softly and walks sure and steady to the spot he’d picked out, sitting down no less casually than as if they’d meant to meet here on any given night and watch the stars.

“You wanna talk about it?”

Yes -

No -

The answers fight against each other at the same time in the pit of her heart.

Yes, she wants to talk about it. Desperately. However -

“I don’t know how.”

Azriel adjusts his back against the rails and nods, crossing his arms. He looks up at the sky simply, some of his hair - longer in the front than the shorter cut at his neck - falls in his face. “That’s okay. I don’t know how to talk about it either.”

Mor finds her hard grip on the stone slackening for the first time. Does he mean... he doesn’t know how to talk about her? Or his own problems? Regardless, the mere possibility that he might ‘get it’ despite years and years of no one ever understanding is too tempting to pass up.

“My mother yelled at me,” Mor says suddenly. Az looks away from the stars and Mor can see it in his eyes: he’s ready. “And... I realized I no longer want to live.” Az nods, turns back to the sky, and Mor feels her chest decompress. She’s never admitted this to anyone. It’s miserable and freeing at the same time to do it now.

“I -” she chokes. Then forces the words back up in to her throat. “I don’t want to be here every, single, day.”

“Is that why you’re up here?” Az asks, his voice even. “To - jump?”

Mor shakes her head and relaxes against the rails. Now that they’re actually talking about this, she doesn’t feel the unbearable need to look down and look death in the eyes when she can just talk about it to a - Friend? Close acquaintance? - to Azriel instead.

“No,” Mor admits. “That’s the problem. I don’t actually want to die. But it feels like I do. Every day. It feels like life has no point. There’s nothing here that I want.”

Az doesn’t move, but Mor thinks he might be showing some kind of concern from what she can see of his face now that her eyes are adjusting to him in the darkness. Somehow, she always seems to find him in the dark.

“What happened?”

“My mom yelled at me over Christmas dinner-”

“No, I mean,” and Az again looks back to her where the light can catch the smooth planes of his face, pain and understanding and something... something else she’s not sure of flashing there against her. “I mean what happened?”

A hole wider than a crater on the moon, deeper than the cliffs buried in the sea, opens wide inside Mor’s heart and spits something out. Something diseased and drowning and already half-dead that sobs because Azriel knows. She knows he knows. Not that some stupid argument passed and ruined her Christmas. But that many somethings have happened over time. Somethings that haven’t gone away, simply built and piled on top of one another until the beginning was so lost, only the end remained.

So when Az looks at her, his heart written in blood and knowing across his eyes, Mor knows he’s asking for the beginning that got lost. The story no one ever dares ask her for.

And it forces the tears to fall from her eyes.

That’s the only time she cries. When the truth is so stark and bare before her, she has nowhere else to look.

“My father died and I just...” she shakes her head quietly, trying to stem the flow that falls freely down her cheeks, guide it into a gentle spray across the fields rather than a turbulent storm upon the sea. “I never recovered. It’s so fucked up.”

Mor’s knees dig into her chest. She wasn’t even aware of the moment she’d wrapped her arms around herself and pulled her legs inward.

“He’s still your father,” Az offers. “You are allowed to mourn... whatever pieces you feel are missing.”

He is the first one not to doubt what she’s saying. Not to belittle her insides with grief that is nothing more than simple sadness. To acknowledge that her pain is something more than the simple absence of a single someone, but the absence of everyone.

She breaks.

“No one’s there anymore, Az,” Mor says, the words broken between her sobs. He doesn’t move. Only watches while she pours our her grief. The way he looks at her, she feels like she can hear his heart breaking too, maybe not for the first time. “My father d-died... Rhys lives on the other side of the world it feels like sometimes. Vi-vi-viane moved. She says I can text her. Everyone says I can text, but I’m so t-tired of stupid texts. I want - I want -”

FUCK.

Not this again. Not this.

“What do you want, Mor?”

“I want to not be here anymore! I want to not feel things I don’t want to feel! I want... ah, shit - fuck! I don’t know what I want anymore, just not... not this.” Someone and not someone. Anyone. Her hand flails trying to explain herself.

“Because you’re alone.”

Mor rests her chin on her knees. She can’t look at him anymore. “Yes.”

She doesn’t expect him to carry on, but he does.

“And it feels cold.”

“Yes.”

“When I burned my hands, people kept telling me to talk about it if I needed to. So I did, but no one listened.” Mor sniffs and looks up from under her lashes, desperation pounding in her veins. “So I started telling people that... it hurt. That I hurt. And everyone told me that - hey, if you need to talk about it, let me know, yeah? And all I kept thinking was... but I just did?”

Yes! That’s - that’s exactly what they say, Mor thinks. She wipes away some of the tears staining her cheek, knowing others will likely soon take their place.

“So one day I just stopped talking. No one really understood anyway. Is that... is that what you’ve been feeling?”

It’s a moment of holding her gaze that draws Mor to hold her head a little higher and feel the complete silence of the rooftop before she answers. “Yes.”

“How long?”

“Five years.”

A low whistle sings out of Az’s lips.

“Not... not all that time, I guess.” Mor reaches down, feels the small bits of rubble against the roof and smashes them between her fingers, brow furrowing. “It wasn’t always so bad. At first I was just... sad. And sad people aren’t ‘depressed.’“

A snort interrupts her. “I’ve heard that one before.”

Something inside her wants to smile at that, but can’t.

“By the time I realized I missed my dad - or, missed what I wanted him to be, grief was like a, like a poor way of describing how I felt. And when I caught up to the depression, I was already knocking on the next door not knowing nothing was on the other side of it. And I don’t...” One of the small sandy pieces pinches between her fingers. Mor leans into the burn there. “I don’t really honestly know how I got this bad.”

The questions plagues her often. How did she end up here? Why did she end up here? Someone died. People die every day. The person who died wasn’t even someone she liked very much. She’s better off without him. But somewhere along the way, enough people didn’t see her and Mor was lost.

“I’m sorry... for-”

“Don’t,” Az says, stopping her sharply. “Don’t you dare apologize. For any of it.”

Mor swallows, relief fluttering inside. “I was only going to say that I was sorry,” sniffs, “about your hands.” This time, Az knows that she knows she’s not talking about just his hands. “What did you do? When it happened. Did you find someone?”

Az breaks away and looks at the rough and bruised lines running along the veins and notches between his fingers and forearms. They flex stiffly once. It makes Mor wonder how much he still remembers. Of the burning. Of the pain. Of the absence.

“Yes and no. Mostly a string of empty promises to listen that never cashed in. And people who said they’d be there and they were... on the other end of a telephone or email.” They both wind up sighing, a small humorous admission of mutual recognition. “Is there anyone who’s there?”

Mor rolls her eyes as she begrudgingly wipes away another tear she hates and unfolds her legs to sit back properly against the railing as Az does. But doing so immediately makes her feel stupid. “Yes and no,” she says pointedly, echoing his own reply as she scoots closer to where he sits, bridges the gulf between them.

“I already know the answer, but I’ll ask anyway,” Az says, seemingly unfazed by how close they’re now sitting, for which Mor is glad. “Viviane?”

“She moved. And now she’s too busy to really take the time out. And I wouldn’t change that for anything. Her life is busy and crazy and exactly how it should be.”

Exactly how mine should be.

“Cassian?”

Mor cringes, equal parts shame and frustration. “No. I thought... maybe. Once. But I’ve never been close enough to really ask. Besides, Cassian is too... too-”

“Happy?”

“Yes!” Mor gapes openly, earning a smirk from her friend.

Friend. Azriel is definitely her friend.

“How did you know that was what I was going to say?”

Az shrugs. “Lucky guess?” Mor tries hard not to roll her eyes. “The only reason I can tell Cassian things is because he was around when it,” and he holds up his hands, “happened. He knows too much. But otherwise, he’s so damn upbeat, you sort of hate to ruin the moment.”

That’s exactly how it feels to be around Cassian. Mor only knows him so well because of Rhys. The same goes for Azriel, technically, even if they are neighbors. But with Cassian, she hates that there is that much happiness orbiting so near her universe that she would spoil it with tears and sorrow as often as she would need to. And using people up for all they’re worth has never been her style.

“Rhys?”

Mor feels a knife cut across her skin. Would this be what it’s like to fall? To swallow? To cut? To shoot? To crash? She lays her head against Az’s shoulder. He doesn’t seem to mind.

“Yes - but no,” she says. The tears that follow are much quieter than the ones before, though just as grieved. “I think Rhys of all people would understand and actually care enough to want to listen. Not do it out of some moral obligation to ‘be there’ or whatever.”

“But?”

“But he works across the country. And I... ugh, it’s so stupid, but it means less when that person isn’t actually here... ya know?”

She can feel Az nodding from the way the muscles in his shoulders flex underneath her chin. “It’s stupid when they say all you need is a hug until you realize sometimes that’s true.”

“I miss him.” And just like that, Az wraps his arm around her shoulder and it’s enough. Fuck if it isn’t enough for once. “I miss him so much.”

“Rhys? Or your dad?”

“Both? It’s just, no matter which way I look, someone is always missing.”

“No significant other? No friends in town?”

Disgusting as she feels to do it, Mor drags the length of her sleeve up around her wrist and wipes the snot running from her nose. She feels congested, like her body is just as sick as her mind.

“I haven’t dated in six, maybe seven years? I don’t know, I lost count. And everyone else has moved on or has seven thousand children to take to soccer practice, no one gets it when I say I’m lonely. They only tell me I’m not trying hard enough.”

Az’s grip where he holds her arm tightens and then immediately slackens as if knowing what he’s done. “Bullshit,” he spits. “As if you can control everyone around you.”

“I can’t,” Mor wheezes, amused and intrigued by the level of venom coming from her usually quiet neighbor. It makes her want to know more, to understand him properly just as she longs to be understood herself.

Az sighs. “So... what do you want to do?”

Mor shakes her head and looks up at him. There’s a little curl that falls right above his right eye. “That’s too big a question. I can’t answer that.”

He nods, glances to the side considering, and comes back with, “Do you always come up here when you feel this way?”

“No. Mostly I just... keep doing whatever I’m doing. Tonight was an... unusual exception, but most of the time I’m busy. I feel this way a - a lot, so I can’t always just run to the nearest rooftop and imagine what it’d be like to fling myself off it.”

Az cringes at what she suspects is the too casual mention of her offing herself, but doesn’t say anything. Because he knows.

Because he knows.

“Driving. That’s when it hits me hardest. The rest of the time I just sit and do nothing. It’s all I can do.”

“Will you promise me something?” Mor inclines her brows. “The next time you feel that way - like you want to die, or - screw that. All the times. Will you tell me? You don’t have to explain, just tell me. I don’t care if you don’t have a plan or if you’re not going to do anything about it. Just tell me and I’ll find you.”

Exhausted does not begin to cover how tired Mor is of crying. All she ever does is cry, it seems. But hearing Az ask this of her breaks something new inside her all over again. Something good and bad and broken all at the same time.

“I can’t promise you that. It’s too much. It’s too much. it’s too-”

“Hey, hey,” he says, his hand reaching up to cup her face and dry the tears. “Stop, it’s fine. I get it. Sometimes the last thing in the world I want to do is grab my phone to call someone even when I want that someone more than anything. What if - can I check on you? Would you let me do that?”

Mor’s eyes fall shut as she breaks against his chest because she can’t. She can’t take this risk. How many times has someone said she can count on them only for it to turn out she couldn’t? But never once has someone offered to just do the work for her as Az is now. Maybe it would be different this time. Maybe -

No, fuck. It won’t be different. What is she even doing up here?

Up here with Rhys’s friend she barely knows despite living one door down for over a year. She and Az have always been friendly, but he’s too quiet and she’s too fucked up that neither of them ever really, truly got past ‘hello’ until tonight.

“Okay, not that,” Az says, fingers running over her hair. Anxiety cripples her, worrying that he’s chickening out or panicking over what to do. “Just tell me what I can do. Anything? Something. Something so you’re not dealing with by yourself anymore?”

“Move in with me.”

The words are out of her mouth faster than she knows what to do with them and Mor is grateful she had her head buried in his chest when she blurted them. Maybe he won’t have heard her.

“You’re serious?”

Shit - fuck. SHIT.

“I’m sorry,” Mor says, and again the tears renew with vigor. She pushes off his chest hard and stumbles, aiming for the door. Azriel is quickly on his feet behind her. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I should never have-”

“Whoa - Morrigan.” Az catches her hand and stops her from reaching the door. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I’ll do it.”

The lights in the city have begun winking out into non-existence. The traffic no longer heavy enough to be heard every which way. It’s late. And Azriel is standing on the rooftop of their apartment agreeing to her absurd, insane, fucked up, impulsive, crazy-

“Mor? Mor!” He shakes her back awake.

He sees my unhinged, she thinks, even if that doesn’t quite make sense.

“I can’t, I’m sorry,” she says, blustering around for the words. “It was a stupid idea. I can’t put all of that on you. Not if you’re dealing with your own shit.” She panics again and slaps a hand across her brow. “Especially if you’re dealing with your own shit.”

And Azriel actually affords her a small chuckle.

“I have been to hell. I’ve seen it. I can’t say that I know what it is to want to die, but...” Mor blinks up at him, waiting, trying hard not to let go of the hope that’s settled in her stomach. “I’ve stood on my own rooftops. I stared down the barrels of my own guns. I’ve counted pills and therapists and friends until they’d stopped working. And if I could go back and do it all over again, I would have just screamed from the top of my lungs the very first day until someone heard me. So for now... your place or mine?”

Maybe Mor is crying again. Maybe she isn’t. The only sensation in her body she’s aware of before Az catches her and guides her toward the stairs is the numbness in her shoulders as they give out and the weight in her chest that lifts slightly. Slightly.

Because it’s not over. Not by a long shot.

But when Az tucks her into bed and calls, “Goodnight,” from her couch, she thinks that maybe it isn’t all so bad. She still feels that crawling tug of death in the back of her skull and wonders if that will ever go away. But if she can just get to sleep knowing there is someone nearby who will make sure she wakes up in the morning, the answer to that question might not be so important for now.

Who knows. Maybe one day she’ll be the one to wake him.

And so for now, Morrigan sleeps.

#morrigan #azriel #moriel #acotar #acomaf #moriel fanfiction #tw: depression #tw: suicide #tw: grief #please proceed with caution if you're sensitive to any of these issues <3 #myfic

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illyriantremors · 7 years

Text

Take Me Down: A Cazigan Smut Fic

This is pure sin and nothing more. And as with the last time I did Cazigan smut, I have no clue if it works and am super nervous about it, but well, here we are. I tried and I’m just honestly happy at this point that I wrote something new and squeezed another Cazigan fic in before ACOWAR. It was stress-relieving to write. Tagging @buggitybooks who asked to be tagged. :)

AO3 Linkage

Summary: Mor’s in the middle of dinner when a questionable breeze hits her legs in an all too familiar pattern. When she realizes both her lovers are messing with her, Mor decides to take things to the bedroom for a little revenge that quickly gets carried away from her. NSFW

Take Me Down

The House of Wind is chilly, Mor thinks, about two-thirds of the way through dinner with her friends.

She supposes it’s only natural. The dining room opens onto a spacious balcony high in the sky where the winds are free to come and go as they please through the large floor to ceiling threshold, constructed thus so that one might fly right in. One with Illyrian wings, that is.

Listening to Rhys fill them in on his latest diplomatic visit to the Day Court, Mor feels that breeze hitting her ankles, and crosses them with a brief brush of her heels to help shake the chill. She takes a sip of wine and leans forward on the palm of her hand, trying not to blink at how dull the trip sounds. Only Amren sitting across from Rhys looks truly interested.

On Mor’s left, Cassian has a clean plate in front of him, the second to finish up after Mor. Azriel is still politely finishing his salad across from the pair of them. Both of the Illyrian men still have their flying leathers on. They’d been gone all day and left Mor hopelessly bored and all alone to idly dream the time away.

She’d spent most of it reading. But what she’d really wanted to do concerned feather light kisses along her calves and cool, teasing licks up her thighs that invoked - invoked a feeling not unlike what the wind is doing at her ankles.

Mor shifts again, scoffing at the ridiculousness of herself and reversing the cross of her feet, but the breeze dances right around them. Her wine glass is halfway to her lips again when she catches the view of the balcony doors and realizes -

They’re shut. Firmly.

The wine glass only just makes it to her mouth when she feels the air below, suddenly richly warm and thick, slow its pace and creep a few inches above her ankles. It hovers mid-calf and distinctly licks.

Every muscle in Mor’s body goes deathly still honing in on the sensation of the wind - no, air? - gliding back and forth, back and forth across her skin. It feels luxurious and intimate, and full of magic. That much, she’s certain. And there’s only one source she can think of for that particular brand of magic.

The warm current continues licking, almost daring Mor to look. Carefully, she takes another sip of wine just to still her breath and flits her gaze over the rim of her glass.

Azriel is all too concerned with Rhys, the dutiful spymaster as always taking notes and prepping for the day he’ll need to remember why the High Lord of the Day likes his tea with milk, no sugar, for the Mother only knows what reason. He averts his attention from Rhys only to take careful stabs of his next bite of salad.

Mor grips the stem of her glass a little too firmly as she sets it down, causing Az’s eyes to briefly meet her own at the dull sound. He gives her a blank face for two seconds before reaching toward his own glass. All she sees before he takes a sip is a subtle, almost nonexistent, twitch of his brow and the corners of his lips tugging to one side before the glass has his dirty little mouth covered.

That’s when the air - no, she realizes finally. That’s when Azriel’s shadow dares to climb a little higher on her leg. It reaches her knee, swirls around in a loop, and presses lazy kisses behind the crook of her leg. And suddenly, Mor’s blood begins to race.

She can’t tell if she’s more infuriated with the fact that Azriel is being so wicked at dinner, with their family present. Or if she desperately wants to yank him by his leathers across the table and tell him to send his shadows higher, place them exactly where she wants them. As a second shadow mirrors the first on her opposite leg, Mor is rather inclined to think it’s the latter.

Thank goodness she’d worn the silk dress tonight. It’s light and short and keeping her cool in a body that’s rapidly feeling more and more heat as the twin shadows take up a steady rhythm of teasing strokes just inside her thighs. A little pulse of heat runs up from that touch in her skin meeting her core, asking Az for more, and damn, if it doesn’t make her nervous as hell.

Cauldron help her, they haven’t hit dessert yet, Rhys is still talking, and her wine is almost out. But those shadows keep licking - and rising. He doesn’t actually intend to keep her here like this for another... twenty minutes? An hour? Rhys and Amren can talk for millennia if left to their own devices, but as the shadows run along the smooth lace lining of her panties asking permission, Mor decides she needs release now.

So too, does Cassian, apparently. Right when Azriel sends one shadow in a quick lick against her clit over the thin fabric of her panties, the other shadow holding her left thigh down firmly on the seat, Mor feels a pair of calloused fingertips dancing on her neck, and has to refrain from jumping out of her seat at the sudden weight of Cassian’s arm draped right behind her on the chair.

Lips tight, eyes wide, Mor feels those fingers trace indulgent circles over her skin, just like the shadows, and move ever nearer to her ear. And Cauldron damn her, she wore her hair to one side tonight in a long cascade of waves that perfectly hides her boyfriend’s fingers as they lightly caress her earlobe and then pull away.

Gripping her chair for balance, Mor slowly, slowly, moves her head to the left, praying to the Mother Rhys and Amren aren’t seeing this, and looks at Cassian. His face is just as smooth as Azriel’s, but when he catches Mor looking, there’s a shit-eating look in his eyes that twinkles. He gives her a hasty wink - the kind only Cassian can get away with.

The pricks are tag-teaming me, she realizes, not entirely sure how she feels about this except to know that she could love and kill them both for it.

And then she silently curses herself because Cassian has finally pressed behind her ear and the most glorious sensation is radiating out from that point matching the heat that’s become a fire in her crotch. She can’t help her lips parting or the fact that her head has tipped to the left stretching out all that smooth skin of hers for Cassian to better ruin with his hands.

When the smug little shadow dancer at her crotch darts through the fabric and presses directly over her clit, Morrigan is done.

How do these males do this to her every single time? How do they always find new ways to tease her, bring her gasping before them? Was this what they’d been out all day doing - planning this?

Mor jumps up in one forward movement, unable to stomach the thought that she can be this turned on and seated this close to her damned cousin, all while her lovers are smirking like thieves next to and across from her.

She’ll simply step out to the toilets for a few minutes. Yes, that’s it. Mor knows her body well. She won’t need long to relieve the unbearable ache she now carries. Azriel and Cassian can go to bed on their own tonight and take it out on each other for all she cares, see how they like it.

Only... Mor can’t get up. Just when she presses up, she jerks violently back, not expecting her feet to remain rooted faithfully to the spot in the five inch white stilettos she chose. It’s a jolting enough movement that it jars the table, and Cassian’s water glass spills off to one side. But all Mor sees is Azriel trying desperately to hide his snort as Rhys and Amren look directly at Mor, and then the spilled water.

He’s tied my legs to the chair with his damn shadows. Filthy scheming -

“Are you alright?” Rhys asks.

Mor blinks at him, swallowing tightly. “Wha - fine,” Mor says, pleased her voice comes out as evenly as it does. Probably only because she’s so astounded that it’s enough to mask the heat dragging her through the mud. “I only wanted the wine bottle.”

“Aww, Mor,” Cassian says, wiping up the mess of water that almost made it to his lap. Mor wishes it had. “If you’d wanted a reprieve,” and he tops up her glass, “all you needed to do was ask.”

Mor’s blood roars in her ears at that because Cassian damn well knows she can’t ask him and Azriel to fuck her outright in front of Rhys and Amren, and she can’t very well go to the bathroom with her legs tied to the blasted chair either. She’s just... stuck. Utterly, utterly stuck as these two men, she reminds herself she loves very much, play games with her while Rhys shrugs and continues his latest.

And the brief distraction of fallen stemware seems to fall short of getting her mind off of the heat crawling all over her body now because during the entire affair, Azriel kept that shadow on her clit, running smooth circles around the nerves with increasing pressure.

But it’s Cassian, who’s hands didn’t actually bother to clean up much of the mess, that are back at her neck and ear dripping wet from the coolness of the water that sends shivers all up and down Mor’s spine. A beadlet escapes and rolls down her open back, disappearing below the fabric of her dress at her waist. Mor’s not sure where the trails stops being water from Cassian’s calloused fingers - fingers she badly wants teasing her nipples instead - and becomes the layer of sweat coating her skin.

Her back arches off the the chair, her shoulders shaking somewhat to try and keep the motion from being too obvious. And even though Rhys is still talking, Amren has started occasionally glancing over at Mor who gives a shakey smile and just sips more and more wine. Cassian’s smirk watching her take each sip seems to say greedy, greedy, greedy.

Mor thinks it’s really her hips that are greedy. Her hips that are now leaning and digging into Azriel. He’s only got one beat on her crotch, but that’s all he needs. That shadow can stretch and fill and thicken while still holding her at the apex of her thighs - and Cauldron, does it ever.

It’s all Mor can do to hide the bite of her lip and the flush of her cheeks beneath her hair, jerking her head to one side as Azriel sends the length of that shadow between her folds to fill her. The most divine pleasure, unlike anything he’s ever made her feel in bed - it’s so different and new to all the games the three of them play - washes over her. Face somewhat hidden, Mor releases the bite on her lips so they can part, a blissful smile appearing at each thrust Azriel gives her. Under the table, Mor digs a hand into her dress fisting the fabric to keep her from giving too much away.

And she embarrassed. So ridiculously embarrassed. Public displays of affection are not a problem for her, not that she engages in them all too much, but this - this... exhibitionism is new, equal parts exciting and shocking and terrifying that she’ll be discovered.

And Cass’s hand only makes it worse, sliding between her back and the chair and - curse her, why did she wear an open-backed dress tonight?? His hand slides right in, two knuckles grazing the side of her breast teasing and it’s all too much, too much, too much. Azriel pushes into her hard and she gives a gasp.

Rhys jerks, nostrils flaring. “What is-”

“Dessert?” Cassian asks, cutting across Rhys. Mor could faint at the relief of having his hand immediately removed from her breast, Azriel’s pumping disappearing altogether from between her legs and over her ankles.

When Mor feels composed enough to handle herself, she turns back to her right and finds Rhys looking between the three of them very oddly.

He can smell it, Mor thinks, though she wills a smile. The bastards did me in and he knows. He damned well knows.

“Dessert would be lovely,” Mor says, leaning heavily on the falsetto in her voice to create her usual chipperness. “Why don’t you and Amren go fetch it?”

“Fetch is for dogs,” Amren says. “I would think Cassian would be more suited to that particular task.”

“If it’s all the same to you, Amren,” and Rhys stands, “I think I could use a walk.”

“Lovely.” They pop off together in the direction of the kitchen and Mor prays they’ll be there a while because she’s pissed as hell now.

“Why the fuck did you two start that?” Mor demands. “And why the fuck did you two stop?!” The words tumble out of her in a whispered hiss before becoming a quiet whine. “I was this close to-”

“Dessert?” Cassian offers. Mor glares at him.

Neither one of her lovers are sitting close to her now, but there’s still a fire in her core begging for relief.

Cassian bites out a laugh. “Don’t tell me you actually wanted to come just then.” Mor turns crimson and it only makes Cassian laugh harder. “Shit, Mor,” he says, leaning forward so that their faces are inches apart. Azriel looks like he wants to devour both of them alive with the way he’s watching across the table. “I told you, all you had to do was ask-”

Mor pushes away from the table right as Cassian’s tongue reaches out and licks at the corner of her chin where it meets her neck. “That’s it,” Mor says, and she slams her napkin down on the chair. “Bedroom - now.”

“What about dessert?” Cassian’s hands are splayed, mock affront.

Neither of the males have moved since Mor has stood. Now she towers over them at this position, enjoying the way they look up at her waiting for an answer. It’s time she holds all the cards and she knows from the look Rhys gave her right before they left that he and Amren are not coming back to this table. Mother only knows what he suspects is going on between the three of them.

“Oh I’m getting dessert,” Mor says. Azriel’s eyes darken, pupils widening as she says it. The fire kindles all over again because she wants that look. Has wanted it and Cassian both for centuries and has found having them both night after night is somehow never enough.

“You are, are you?” Cassian says, his own lust-filled eyes devouring her in that dress he’d played with hungrily.

“Yes,” Mor says, stepping toward the hall that leads to the room they like to share most nights - her room. “And you two boys are going to watch.”

Mor’s never heard feet move so fast as Cassian’s and Azriel’s do chasing after her down the hall. Once they’re inside her room, Cassian smacking the door closed with a little too much gusto, the quick movements cease. And Mor is enjoying the way these two males are staring hungrily after her as she backs away towards the lounge chair.

Cassian takes a brisk step toward her, but Mor holds out a hand to stop him and find the hard expanse of his chest, hidden beneath the leather. She wants to rip them right off, but she holds herself in check.

“I thought you wanted a tease,” Mor whispers close to his face. “Allow me the pleasure.” She licks along his chin towards his ear in precisely the same way he’d done at dinner and is rewarded with a deep groan rumbling out of his chin.

“Mor,” Cass says, daring another step, but she pushes that hand on his chest to separate them. The backs of her calves hit the lounge where she stops.

And promptly slips out of the little silk dress she’d been wearing. It falls in a puddle at her feet. Her panties quickly follow. She hadn’t even bothered with a bra.

Wicked delight flares across Mor’s senses watching the near-feral looks on her lovers’ faces as she reclines on the lounge, spreads her legs wide enough that they see everything, and reaches a hand down her stomach where it just stops above the dark hairs resting at her crotch.

Cassian snarls, as if he can command that hand to go lower or change Mor’s mind and let him get to her first. A ghost of a shadow appears at her feet looking to restrain and Mor snaps her hand away from herself immediately, pointing at Azriel. “Don’t even think about it,” she says and is pleased when Azriel not only backs off a step, the shadow disappearing, but fists his hands at his sides. “That’s better,” Mor croons, replacing her touch to its proper place where it can tease and play if the boys behave for her.

“Morrigan,” Az bites out, and the way he grounds out her name has her blood instantly singing again. She merely scratches a lone finger through the hairs barely moving lower.

“You two are the ones who wanted to play games,” Mor says cooly, a cat’s smile teasing on her face. “So let’s play games.” She inclines her head toward the bed that directly faces her, making her intentions perfectly clear. “Go on. Give it your best shot. Tease me.”

The lovers look at each other, then to the bed, then finally to Mor. And she knows its killing them that her hand hasn’t gone any lower or that she hasn’t allowed them to come any closer. Mor wonders if they truly meant to get her off at that table with everyone watching.

It takes two heartbeats for Cassian and Azriel to move toward the bed - anything to get Mor’s hand working herself while they watch. And as soon as they do, Mor gasps a little at the sudden abrupt shove Azriel gives, sending Cassian back against the bed post. Fire licks up Mor’s core watching him strip Cass of his belt, his pants, until there’s only his underwear and a very sizeable bulge beneath left.

“Shit - Az,” Cass chokes out, not used to such demanding gestures from his boyfriend in bed as Az wastes zero time in freeing his cock. For a moment, Mor stares and stares at how hard and long it is, imagining how thick it would feel buried inside her - the way Azriel’s shadows had, but real and warm and better. If it weren’t for the fact that she wants these boys to start touching each other, she’d damn everything to shove Cass back on that bed and ride him hard until he came screaming her name.

But she resists instead, and watches as Azriel presses a hot kiss to Cassian’s mouth and helps him remove the top half of his leathers. Mor decides this was a very, very good decision indeed.

Az kisses a trail down Cass’s neck, his chest, and finally his stomach until he’s on his knees in front of him, only one option left. At his back, Cass’s wings give a twitch against the bed post.

Mor almost doesn’t realize Azriel has stopped kissing him until he clears his throat, drawing her attention. Az is staring hard - daring her. He curtly nods to that hand at her crotch that’s been waiting, command in those rich hazel eyes and Mor silently swears. A deal’s a deal.

So Mor dares that hand lower between her legs and finds her clit already throbbing for her. She begins to circle it slowly, never taking her eyes off Az. “Good, Morrigan,” he says, his voice all midnight velvet. “Good.”

When did he gain the upper hand in this?! Mor thinks as her center starts to rock with the motion of her hand. But her boyfriend has, somehow, already overtaken her lead. It’s just a game now to see who lasts the longest.

Azriel turns back to face Cassian and slides his hand up, up, up posessively until it’s gripping his chin and turning it gruffly toward Mor on the settee. Not that Cassian had stopped looking, Mor noticed. Now that she’s touching herself, Cassian can’t seem to tear his gaze away for one second. She likes that gaze on her. Like to watch him watch her work herself.

“You don’t stop looking at her,” Azriel says. “Not for one second. You don’t take your eyes off her hand or her cunt until you’ve come in my mouth and she’s screaming for you on the lounge.” He doesn’t even ask if Cass understands, just puts his mouth to work.

Mor faintly hears Cassian swear, but is quickly distracted by the rough jerk Cass gives against the bed, his hands gripping what he can reach of the sheets just behind him as Azriel moves his tongue - his lips - over Cass’s head. Still dressed head-to-toe in his flying leathers, wings tucked in tight at his back, Azriel looks something like a demon from hell next to their naked selves, come to set them both on fire. And the way he’s sucking at Cassian, taking him in deep and running a hand over his ass - by the Cauldron, what did she get herself into. She’s going to die and she knows it. She should have just taken them both on the bed and relieved herself, but too late now. The sight of her boys together is ruining her.

Her hand moves faster over her clit and already she can feel her pleasure swelling. Cassian is staring hard at her, a glazed look in his eyes as he pants stronger with each bob of Azriel’s head. So Mor rewards him moving her free hand up her chest to cup her breasts. She flicks a nipple, turning it bright red, and nearly loses rhythm on herself when Cass’s strikes the paneling of the bed frame with a hard whack!

“Mor-”

“Touch him,” she breathes. Cass almost loses the eye contact he’s been barred from quitting. “Touch him, Cassian. Grab him, just...” she shudders, unable to quite finish the words. She so close. Already so, so close and she wants to come. Wants to come while her lovers fuck each other and she watches. Then she wants to do it all over again until all three of them are spent. “Just - just move him, Cass,” she manages to pant out and watches Cassian take a fistful of Azriel’s hair, guiding him along.

A stray shadow reappears, diving out of sight behind Cassian where Azriel’s fingers had been at his ass, forcing a moan out of both Cass and Mor. When Cass can’t take it any longer and his head falls back to hit the bed post, eyes fluttering shut, Mor breaks, her clit sending waves of climax out over every inch of her body relieving that magnificent ache. “C-Cass,” she moans, head thrown back, knees shaking.

But she never stops looking. Not once. They’d promised. And she feels almost ready enough to come again when Cass re-opens his eyes at the sound of his name falling off Mor’s tongue and comes into Azriel’s mouth from the sight of her high alone.

“Did you look at her?” Azriel asks, and suddenly both their attentions go down to the male on his knees. Cassian nods. “What did she look like?” His voice is thick, guttural, enough to make Mor bite her lip and Cassian balk. “What did she look like,” Az says again, standing and licking the remaining cum off his lips he hadn’t swallowed, “as she came for you, Cassian?”

Mor sees Cass’s eyes glaze again, finding her on the lounge. She bites her lip, pushes her fingers down into her folds - shit, she’s wet - and holds, a new promise. Cassian swallows. “Perfect. She looked perfect,” he says.

Azriel’s fingers trace over Cassian’s jaw. His shadows dance freely down Cassian’s body, teasing him as he had teased Mor at dinner. “Do you want her to do it again?”

“Yes,” Cassian says instantly. Mor grins and dips a finger inside herself, biting back a moan as she feels her body reset, ready for more. “But you’re gonna fuck me first,” Cassian says, grabbing Azriel’s shoulders and fighting for dominance amid what quickly becomes a clash of teeth and tongues on the bed.

Cauldron - these men are really going to kill her, Mor thinks, slipping a second finger inside herself, curling them at the tips as she pumps herself and wishes it were Cassian’s tongue instead. Or Azriel’s. She’s so hot at this point, she wants them both, sick of this chair and her own pitiful fingers when she longs to be filled with something more.

As if in reply, darkness wraps around Mor’s hand locking it in place and making her gasp. She looks up and finds Azriel directing Cassian to his back, legs spreading out around him. Az removes his leathers, exposing that beautifully tanned chest he’s spent centuries honing to perfection, the tattoos running over his pecs and shoulders. And his thighs - his thighs are powerful creations holding him up high over Cassian who Mor thinks is trying hard not to reach up and return Azriel’s earlier favor in earnest.

Az grabs a bottle from the night stand and positions himself between Cassian’s legs. He opens the bottle and starts to touch himself, prepping. “You be good, Morrigan,” he says, that name again sending chills all over her body. “Be good for me Mor, and I’ll be good for you. We both will.” He nods at her hand bound in shadow that can’t seem to move of its own free will anymore, but the moment Mor moves to look at herself, Az cuts her off. “Eyes up top, love. I want to see you come when I fuck you both.”

Mor whimpers, and then Azriel is fucking Cassian on the bed, eliciting sounds from Cassian she’s never heard from her boyfriend before in her life. And all the while, Azriel is watching her. And it makes her feel alive. It makes her feel special. Having the attention of both these men even while they touch each other - it makes her feel like a queen.

Mor knows Azriel senses the shift in her. Good, he mouths silently to her from the bed, thrusting in on Cassian and gripping his waist. Cass is lost to the bed sheets. And suddenly, Mor feels her hand free from the wetness between her legs, replaced by that shadow that had entered her at dinner.

“Azriel - fuck, Azriel, please,” she says, not caring that she’s already begging. She just manages to keep her eyes on him, exactly what she knows he wants, and nearly cries out again as the shadow starts to pump in and out of her hard and fast. It’s not long before it’s matching the pace of Azriel’s hips on the bed.

And it feels like bliss. The way it was always meant to be - just the three of them and no body else in the entire world. Only them. Only this bedroom. Only their unified breaths and moanings ringing about the walls betraying how glorious they feel together.

By the time Mor’s fingers have found the nearest pillow to clutch as her body starts to shake, she’s close to losing it completely, but Azriel keeps his shadows back. Every time she gets just close enough to going over, he pulls back on her, but fucks Cassian a little bit harder.

Tease, tease, tease, she groans silently.

Do it, she mouths. Az shakes his head. “Out loud, Morrigan, love. I want to hear you say it.”

“Come,” she whines, her legs spread impossibly wide on the seat for that shadow to pump between. “Come, please, please, I want to see you c-come.”

Azriel snarls, lets his shadows loose until Mor’s head is bent so far back on the soft side rest of the lounge, she almost can’t see him anymore. But it’s Cassian who sits up, gripping Azriel’s waist, and drags his mouth and teeth over his neck - his shoulder. Az shivers, his back arching.

“His wings, his wings - Cauldron, his wings, Cass.”

Let’s see how you like it, she thinks.

The groan that comes out of Azriel when Cassian runs two thick, calloused fingers over the joint of his wing is enough to do it. Az comes hard, incoherent sounds tumbling off his lips, as Cassian holds him, rocks him through it.

They’re both panting hard by the time Azriel removes himself from Cassian’s chiseled frame. And his eyes sharpen on Mor.

As one, they finish her. Azriel’s hand on her clit as he swipes his tongue into her mouth and Mor finds she can still taste Cassian on his lips. And Cassian, two fingers buried deep inside Mor to replace those shadows and make her scream his name one more time. It feels like paradise.

Chests heaving, skin slick with sweat, Cass and Az stoop beside the lounge, their wings stretched out around them. Mor reaches down and runs her fingers through the hairs of one of their heads, she isn’t sure which. Her eyes have fallen shut.

“That feels... nice,” Cassian says, his voice deep and sleepy. It must be him she’s touching. And she quite agrees with the timbre of his voice and the suggestion of retreating to the bed that it holds.

“You know what else would feel nice,” Az says. “If we carried this one room over.”

Magic at work, Mor can already hear the deep pool of their bathing room running and imagines what that delicious steam would feel like over her skin with these two males on either side of her. Suddenly, she’s wide awake again. Perhaps a bath before bed is just what they need.

She pops up and grabs a handful of Az’s hair, pulling him to her lips and kissing him deeply. “Let’s go get cleaned up, hmm?” she teases when they pull apart.

Cassian chuckles and offers Mor his hands. “Come on.” When she’s on her feet, Cassian immediately scoops her up into his arms and his skin against hers, naked and pressed closed, feels like the satisfaction she’d been craving all night since that very first tickle touched her ankle at dinner. Azriel stands behind her, chin resting on her head.

“My boys,” Mor hums. Azriel presses a kiss to her neck, softer this time. More personal. “What would I do without you two, eh?”

“Suffer infinitely,” Cassian says. Azriel snorts. He’s the first to make it to the bathroom. Cassian lingering behind a moment with Mor in his arms.

Slowly, Mor offers a smile, sweet and gentle and just for him. His head dips and Mor’s heart thumps wildly as his lips press against hers so tenderly, she remembers why she’d liked him so much that first week in the camps when they’d met. Remembers the Illyrian with kindness in his heart. They don’t say anything when they pull apart. They don’t have to. They simply smile warmly and join Az in the pool to wash up with fresh soaps and shampoos smelling of honey and pine.

The bed does not see the trio again for a good long while.

#cazigan #cassian #azriel #morrigan #acomaf #myfic #cazigan fanfiction #acomaf fanfiction

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