In Darkness She is All I See
Cherry Pie: Part 3 - Feyre x Rhysand
The High Lord of the Night Court knows how important it is to support Lucien and Elain - and, thus, the Spring Court - as their first Calanmai is upon them. But that doesn't mean that he enjoys being in the manor where his mate had suffered so much. When Feyre encourages him to eat dessert first with her - a delectable cherry pie - he realizes that their evening is about to get a lot more interesting.
Complete with a final act of sweet revenge against an enemy long gone.
Warnings: NSFW, Light Bondage, its a literal smutfest and I don't think sex actually works like this, but it's fantasy so who cares ;)
READ ON AO3
Masterlist | Author: @hlizr50
This is part of the Cherry Pie: ACOTAR Kinktober Smut Extravaganza collection. Make sure to check out the rest of the collection and the other authors!
Part 0.5: Helion x Lady A by @spell-cleavers | Part 1: Elucien by @bookofmirth | Part 2: Jurian x Vassa by @separatist-apologist
The entire collection will be posted to AO3 and @tealnymph-writes by the end of the week
Rhysand kept a reassuring hand at the small of the High Lady’s back as they strode through the grand foyer of the manor where her life in Prythian had begun. Their footfalls echoed over the staircase and through the empty hall. Attending this gathering had been important to Feyre – a way to show her support for her sister and her friend – but the High Lord knew that stepping foot in this place would likely always come with some level of discomfort. Tamlin’s passing had ensured that there would be no chance for an awkward encounter or bitter exchange, but the house itself still put Rhys on edge. He pulled her closer to his side, hand sliding to rest on her hip even as he brushed a claw against her mental defenses.
Are you alright, darling?
Instead of answering she lifted her gaze to him with a small, but genuine, smile. His answering one was tight. It was no great joy for him to return to the Spring Court either, but he knew the importance of their alliance. Knew that his support of Elain and Lucien’s efforts here needed to remain relentless and visible. So here they were, and as they walked through the doors leading to the patio he couldn’t help but nod approvingly at restoration of the manor and it’s grounds.
“I wonder where everyone is?”
The High Lord refocused his attention upon the patio table, noting a singular tin of what appeared to be a cherry pie. A cherry pie that had already been tucked into by more than one person, a slice already sitting on a plate in delectable temptation. He chuckled to himself, noting the breach in etiquette and contemplating which of his inner circle was likely to blame. But his eyes caught Feyre, in a silver gown that hugged her so spectacularly – placing a slice of pie on another plate and picking both up. Turning to him, she smirked, nodding to the dishes in her hands.
“Life is short, Rhys. Eat dessert first,” she snickered softly. He pulled a fork from her hand and scooped up a bite of the dessert. Lifting it to her mouth, he grinned at her lips as they wrapped around the fork.
“Life is notshort, Feyre darling.” He dipped his chin and kissed the tip of her nose. “Must I remind you that you are no longer human?”
“It’s a figure of speech, you prick.” She rolled her eyes, a playful scowl coloring her beautiful features.
“A humanone,” he reminded her before taking a bite of pie for himself. She stuck her tongue out at him and his violet eyes narrowed at the blue that colored it. Odd, for a cherry pie. He paid close attention as he rolled the cherries around in his mouth, trying to taste anything out of place. And as his gaze returned to her questioning blue orbs, he grinned devilishly.
Red Iris powder.
Their evening was about to get… very interesting.
“Come, Feyre darling. Perhaps we should eat inside. I would hate for you to catch a chill.”
She raised a suspicious brow, and Rhys almost thought she wouldn’t follow. But then she strode past him, with all the grace and dignity of the High Lady she was, before tossing over her shoulder, “I know that look, Rhysand. I love you, but I know better than to trust you.”
With a chuckle he paced behind her. “You wound me, Feyre.”
“No, I just know you,” she countered. His smile grew feral as he watched her hips as she stepped back into the mansion. She did, indeed, know him. But she had no idea what was in store, even now, as the aphrodisiac began coursing through her. Maybe he should tell her, but that wouldn’t change anything. They had both consumed the powder, and soon they would both beconsumed. And he had the most delicious, dastardly ideas about what they would do.
“The pie is delicious, isn’t it?” the High Lord crooned, steering her toward the staircase. “Despite our long lives, I’m glad we still chose to eat dessert first.” Feyre lifted another fork-full of pie to him, and he relieved her of the second plate as they began to climb the dark wood of the stairs. As they reached the landing and started meandering down the hallway of what used to be her home, Rhys set the plate of untouched pie atop a cabinet.
They would not be needing it.
Feyre slowed down, fanning herself. “Is it getting hot in here?” she took a stuttered breath. “I… I think there was something in that pie.” Rhys smirked, steering her until her back was pushed against the wall.
“Ithink, darling,” he murmured, pressing his lips to that sensitive spot right below her ear, “that we should do something… naughty.” He felt her pulse quicken in her neck as the scent of her arousal wafted up to him.
“I’m listening,” she panted, hands tangling in his blue-black hair. His dark chuckle vibrated against her throat.
“I think that I want to fuck you in Tamlin’s chambers. And I don’t mean just a quick few thrusts just for the thrill of it.” His lips continued to drift over her neck before landing in the crook of her shoulder. He let his teeth graze her soft skin, reveling in how she shuddered and gasped. “I want to make you cum on every surface, in a multitude of ways and positions, so that the room is so coated in the scent of our arousal and the taste of our pleasure that even his spirit will never find peace.”
“Good Gods, Rhys, that’s horrible,” Feyre balked weakly. But he could feel her breasts heaving against his chest and smell the sweet, heady scent of her. Trailing his hand down, he caressed her jaw, collarbone, before cupping her breast, earning a wanton moan from her. “Have you no respect for the dead?”
“Your body doesn’t seem to think it’s such a bad idea, darling,” he crooned, squeezing the soft flesh in his grasp. He could feel his arousal pulsing, trousers growing tight. They needed to get to that room, and fast.
“I didn’t say I didn’t want to. I just said you’re horrible.”
Rhysand pulled back to study her face and found eyes alight with mischief, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth. He couldn’t hold back his growl as he reached for her thighs, pulling them up to circle his middle.
“I love you so fucking much,” he groaned and kissed her hard, lips and tongues tangling and battling. He pulled them away from the wall, cupping her ass to hold her to him as he made their way to the end of the hall. It was all he could do not to fucking run. He backed through the door into the expansive chambers, moonlight pooling on the floor.
Thank the Mother for that fucking pie.
Feyre stiffened in his arms, pushing against his shoulders. He looked into a withering stare and realized perhaps his statement had shouted down the bond they shared.
“There really was something in the pie!” she gasped. He gave her a weak grin as he turned to throw the both of them upon the mattress. “Not on the bed!” she cried out.
Rhys studied her, her parted swollen lips and flushed cheeks and steely gaze. He cursed himself for not thinking that she might not be comfortable in her ex-fiancé’s bed, that maybe she’d shared it with him. He slowly released his hold, letting her slide down to stand in front of him. Lifting a hand he cupped her cheek, stroking his thumb over her skin before dipping his chin to give a tender kiss.
“I never came to his room. But… I still don’t want to be in his bed,” she murmured, features soft and thoughtful. Then her expression hardened, and the look in her eyes was one of command and desire. “And if you want me so badly, there will be no sorcery – no dark mist or magic clothing removal. If you want me naked, you will peel this dress off me with your own two hands.”
“As you wish, High Lady.” Rhys let that feral grin return to his face as he scooped her up again, hungrily capturing her lips. He carried her to a desk and swept an arm across it, knocking paper and an inkwell to the floor. “I’m sure that wasn’t too terribly important,” he chuckled as he set his mate down upon it. Staring at her, he pushed the skirt of her gown up to reveal those entrancing, creamy thighs. He removed her slippers and then pressed a kiss to the bone of her ankle, trailing up the inside of her leg. When he was mere inches away from her center he pulled back and wrenched the dress over her head in a desperate pull, revealing her delectable lace underthings the color of the night sky over Velaris.
The High Lord stepped back, making no effort to hide the appreciative sweep of his gaze from her honey-haired head to the tips of those dainty toes. She was magnificent. Always. He licked his lips as he locked eyes with her.
“You’re such a lecher.” Feyre shook her head, but held his stare as she leaned back and let her thighs open to him. “I do recall that you wanted to make me cum on every surface in this room. I’m waiting.”
He was on her in an instant, dragging his lips from her mouth to her jaw to her neck as he slipped his hand beneath the lace of her panties, a carnal grin spreading against her throat.
“You’re so wet for me, darling. Already,” he cooed, his kisses reaching the dip between her collar bones. “So ready for me to wring every drop of pleasure out of you. So ready to cum so many times you won’t know which way is up.” He dipped a finger into her, moaning at the scorching heat he found there. Gods, she was dripping for him. He reached around with his free hand to unclasp the garment keeping her breasts from him, ripping it away with a swift tug. His mouth found a pert nipple as he plunged another finger into her.
“Rhys,” she hissed, and he felt her fingernails against his scalp. “Oh Gods.”
He sucked the peak between his teeth, letting them scratch against it as he pumped his fingers inside her. Her hips bucked against his hand as she released a sensual moan. She was so responsive, so wet, so fucking exquisite.
“Do you want to cum on my fingers, Feyre?” he growled as he switched to her other breast, letting his tongue circle the bud at its center. When her response was little more than a whimper he nipped at her. “Say it, darling. Tell me what you want.” He pressed the pad of his thumb down on that bundle of nerves at her center and she cried out.
“I-I… oh fuck,” she gasped as his teeth grazed her nipple and he flicked his thumb back and forth across her clit. “Rhys!”
“Tell me, Feyre,” he commanded, thrusting his fingers deeper.
“I want to cum on your fingers,” she managed to shout. “Fuck, Rhys, you’re such a bastard!”
“Such language,” he scolded darkly. “Hardly becoming for a woman of your station. Perhaps I should let you calm down.”
“Don’t you fucking dare,” she snarled. The High Lord quirked his lips in a teasing grin, his already hard cock somehow stiffening even more at the dark lust clouding her features. Her head fell back as she keened at the pressure he was building inside her, his fingers pistoning in and out of her soaking slit. Running his tongue up the column of her throat, he let her moans vibrate against his lips.
“Then cum for me, darling. I want to see the most powerful female in Prythian come undone by my hand. I want to feel your walls clench around my fingers as you scream my name in ecstasy.” His voice was velvet and steel, the sensual commands bringing her close to release. So he curled a finger inside her and pulled it back out as he rubbed her clit in circles.
“Oh, fuck, Rhys! Oh Gods!” she screeched, clenching and spasming around him. He could feel her thighs shaking as her orgasm ripped through her, an animalistic howl flying from her lips. He kept his fingers pumping, thumb pressed to the most sensitive part of her, pushing her release until her muscles were tense and trembling, only pulling out when he caught her as she almost fell backward into the wall. She was panting in his arms as he sucked his fingers into his mouth.
“You taste incredible,” he purred. He was so hard it was almost painful, and he was pleasantly surprised when her hands were pulling at his shirt.
“Why in the seven courts are you not fucking naked,” she grumbled. He laughed, letting her pull the garment over his head. She tossed it to the side and immediately put her fingers to work on his pants, hurried, impatient hands stroking against his rigid length and making him hiss.
“Quite needy, aren’t you?” His knees nearly buckled when she freed him, hands immediately wrapping around his thick shaft.
“You can thank that Cauldron-damned pie. Now get back over here. I need you inside me.” She tugged on him none-too-gently, a shock pulsing through his cock and up his spine. He hadn’t seen her like this since the frenzy, and he had a feeling that – even had he not had the powerful aphrodisiac roaring in his veins – he would still be greedy for her need and ready to sate her lust. And so he stepped to her, ripped those beautiful lace panties off her, and buried himself inside her in one long thrust. He almost came right there, unprepared for how her pussy gripped him. She was so warm, so wet, pulsing with desire. He stayed still, gritting his teeth to come away from the edge as Feyre wrapped her arms around his neck. After a few deep breaths he hooked his arms under her knees and lifted her, seating himself even deeper and drawing a yell from his mate.
“Your juices are already all over that desk, darling. I need to fuck you against something else.” Her muffled pants were his only response as he crossed the room and pushed her back against the wardrobe. “We have the whole bedroom and the bathing chamber to ruin, Feyre, and I don’t plan on stopping until we’ve coated every fucking square inch.” She leaned in to plunder his mouth, suckling and biting at his lower lip.
“Then stop talking about it and do it, High Lord,” she goaded.
Rhysand was unleashed. With a snarl he plunged into her, her shoulders colliding with the wood. From there his pace was hurried and hungry, his deep punishing thrusts driving moans and cries from his mate’s lips. It only made him harder, made him want to bury himself so deep inside her that her eyes crossed. He could hear the smacking of his skin against hers as he took her, rough and wild, savoring the vivid play of ecstasy in her eyes and across her face. She was exquisite when he ravaged her, that wicked mouth panting and groaning and making that lovely little ‘o’ shape when his thrusts stole her breath entirely.
“Is this how you like it, darling? Rough and hard and deep against the wall?” Rhys groaned, grazing his teeth against her neck. “I love the noises you make, Feyre. The ways that I can make you keen in pleasure when I’m deep inside you.”
“Gods, Rhys…” she breathed, fingernails clawing over his shoulders. He could feel her body responding, her walls beginning to tremor and tighten around him.
“Are you going to cum, Feyre?” He lifted his arms, still under her knees, forcing her wider for him to explore. Her breath caught and he grinned – a crooked, arrogant smirk – knowing that he’d found a depth that would push her over the edge. And with his next deep thrust she screamed, arms clinging to his neck as her orgasm tore through her, muscles tightening deliciously around his cock. But he continued pistoning into her, drawing out her release as he reveled in her desperate moans. The sounds were too much – music to his ears – and he buried himself deep inside his mate with a roar as he came. Chest heaving, his forehead fell into the crook of her neck. “Beautiful, darling. Fucking exquisite.”
Rhysand slid his length from her drenched slit and his arms out from under her legs, careful to hold her gingerly up against the wardrobe until her toes reached the floor. They still clung to each other, and his lips cocked smugly as he felt her knees buckle for a moment underneath her.
“Did I wreck you so thoroughly so soon?” he teased, a sensual rumble vibrating through his chest. He let his lips trace up the column of her neck, teeth nipping and tongue soothing. Pulling away slightly, he allowed himself to take in her flushed features. Her lips were stained red and swollen with lust, and those eyes seemed to pierce straight into him even as she snickered in response.
“You think mighty highly of yourself, High Lord. Nevermind that you nearly pulled my hips from their sockets.” Feyre grimaced, but she remained steady on her feet. He grinned at her, dipping his chin for a kiss that was much more innocent and chaste than his intentions.
“Perhaps you should spend some time with the Valkyries. Do some stretching. Increase your flexibility.”
“You’ve never complained about my flexibility before, you ass,” her retort was hot on her tongue. She slipped out of the High Lord’s grasp, but pulled at his hand to lead him to the bathing room. “Perhaps we should… wash up a bit?” His arched ears perked at the suggestion in her tone, sultry with promise. He followed obediently, violet eyes alight and teasing.
“Seems counterintuitive, darling, but I’ll oblige.” Her fingers tugged on his stubbornly as they passed through the archway. Pale silver moonlight set the porcelain of the deep bathtub aglow. There was a trellis of vines of emerald and amethyst amaryllis rising behind it, and he could imagine that the denizens of the Spring Court would find the floral scents and décor pleasing. It waslovely – Rhysand could appreciate the aesthetic – but he and his High Lady had an affinity for cleaner lines, saturated color. Stone and texture and refinement.
With a flourish of her hand the tub was full, steam floating up to lick against the leaves and petals climbing to the ceiling. The High Lord let his eyes roam, to appreciate the perfection of his mate. Her back was toned, a testament to her dedication to training even in the midst of her responsibilities. Feyre had never been weak or helpless, even as a child, but all it took was a passing glance at her to know that she was powerful and proud. The column of her spine was straight and regal, her chin always held high. She had committed herself to becoming strong from the very start of their relationship – to reach for her potential even as Tamlin had tried to squash it. The honey-haired fae before him hadn’t realized just how dangerous and cruel it was for her then-fiancé to insist that she keep her power hidden. She couldn’t have known that ignoring her magic would be pure torment, that it would roil and seethe and burn under her skin. But the High Lord of the Spring Court would have known, and Rhys would never forgive that he had still insisted that she not be taught even the most basic skills – to at least keep her safe from herself.
He didn’t give a fuck if he was dead. It still made him so angry. To know that his mate had been so close to binding herself to him. To know that he had been willing to let her do that. To know that he’d almost allowed her to crack and wither and die before his eyes.
“Rhys?” Feyre whispered. He blinked twice and followed her voice, finding her already in the tub. “Where did you go, my love?” Cheeks heating he shook his head, choosing instead to let his gaze drift hungrily from her eyes, to her lips, caressing down over her jaw and throat, and landing on the swells of her breasts as the water rippled gently just above her nipples.
“Well? Are you going to join me, or just stand there and leer at me?” His eyes darted back up to hers, feeling the challenge and lust charging the air between them. It was suddenly thick, heavy with desire and the first taste of arousal.
“I think I’ll choose the latter,” he answered, a wicked grin blooming. Her face flushed under the intensity of his gaze, and his cock jerked in satisfaction as her lids drooped. Gods, that powder might lead to some chafing if he was ready again so soon. “Touch yourself, darling.”
The rosy dusting drifted down her chest as her arousal and uncertainty warmed her. When her head tipped back to rest on the lip of the tub and she drew her bottom lip between her teeth, he groaned as his erection grew almost painfully hard. He was sure it jutted out obscenely in front of him, but his rapt attention was on the subtle twitch of her lips, the way her mouth formed soundless words as she gasped, her fingers hidden under the water’s surface.
“Rhys,” she hissed between shallow breaths.
“Yes, darling? How does it feel? Is that little clit sensitive? Make sure you’re rubbing it for me, love.” He palmed his rigid length and stroked lazily as her pants became moans and whimpers. “You’re so gorgeous like this, Feyre. Pleasuring yourself for me. Making those delicious sounds.”
“Don’t you dare slide a finger in, Feyre. I’m the only thing that gets to be inside you, to wring out every drop of pleasure that you can manage,” he crooned, her frustrated mewl going straight to the rock hard length in his hand. The water splashed as her hips started to buck.
“Rhys, please,” she cried.
“Tell me what you want, darling. Let me hear that pretty mouth tell me all the dirty desires that are crowding your mind.”
“I’m so close, Rhys. Oh Gods,” her voice tremored in time with her taut body.
“Tell me, Feyre.” His tone was dark, the voice of the most powerful High Lord Prythian had ever seen.
“I need to cum, Rhys! I’m so close!” His High Lady writhed in the bath, riding that edge. “I need something inside me, Rhys. My fingers, your fingers, your cock, your tongue, I don’t fucking care. I need to cum.” Her breathing had become ragged and uneven.
“And what will you do, darling? If I help you cum?” The devilish words matched a predatory smirk as he stepped toward the tub.
“I’m sorry, love. I’m afraid I didn’t hear an answer,” he purred, kneeling and leaning his forearms on the cool porcelain of the edge. It was like ice against the raging heat that pumped through his veins.
“Please, Rhys. I’ll do anything, I just need to get off,” she screeched. With a feral growl he pounced, practically leaping over the side to grab his mate. He pushed her chest against the vine-covered trellis and buried himself deep inside her, earning a pleasured scream.
“Don’t stop rubbing, Feyre. You’re already gripping my cock so hungrily, but I want more,” he groaned into her ear before scraping his teeth over the crook of her neck. His pace was relentless, punishing thrusts that took her over the edge in only a few moments. Her muscles spasmed, knuckles white as her free hand clutched the greenery, and he wrapped a strong arm around her to make sure she didn’t collapse. Clutching one of her breasts he continued pounding into her, the walls of her pussy clutching desperately as he pushed her orgasm to new heights. “Don’t stop, Feyre. Keep those lovely fingers on that sweet little clit until I spill inside you.”
He growled against her skin as she quaked in his grasp and wailed into the night. He wouldn’t last much longer inside her, the way every muscle in her body seemed to clench. With a roar he seated himself as far as he could go, feeling his release power through him. He pushed his free hand against hers at her core, pushing her fingers to the overstimulated bud until he had emptied inside her. He slid their hands up, so both of his arms were wound around her ribs. Her ragged breaths sawed against his chest as she hung, limp and boneless, in his arms. He lowered both of them back into the water, heated back to a soothing warmth by magic, cradling her to his chest. Her body still trembled, but she lifted a hand to cup his neck and placed a chaste kiss to his jaw before tucking herself back under her chin. They soaked for a few moments, his hand tracing up and down her spine as their hearts slowed.
“Are you alright, darling?” Rhysand whispered, pressing his lips to her damp hair. It had felt absurdly good, but he may have gotten carried away a bit. She nodded against him. “You’re sure?”
“Yes, Rhys,” she croaked with a soft snicker, pulling her head back to look at him. “You’re a devious bastard, though.”
An answering chuckle shook them. “Indeed. You can have your revenge when we get out of the tub.” Her tired eyes brightened in an instant.
“Is that so?”
“Yes, darling.” He kissed her temple. “Have your wicked way with me.” Before he could pull all the way back she gripped his nape and found his lips with her own, leaving a lingering, promising kiss. Then she rose, untangling herself from his arms and climbing out of the tub. He couldn’t hide the pout on his lips at the loss of her warmth, but his jaw went slack as she prowled gracefully – seductively – back toward the bedroom.
“Follow at your own risk, High Lord,” she called over her shoulder, the threat causing his skin to pebble and desire to coil low in his belly. Just how much powder had been in that damned pie? “Just remember, love. You asked for it.”
He took a few steadying breaths, trying to stifle the erection that was already threatening. When he got out of the tub, his gaze turned toward the archway. He couldn’t see his mate beyond it, and that sent a thrill through him. She was planning something – with any luck something devious and orgasm-inducing. When he’d crossed the threshold he found her standing before the large canopy bed, two short tasseled ropes in her hands. His glance caught on the window, noticing that the curtains were no longer pulled back.
“Curtain ties, Feyre?” He smirked, features darkening with lust. “Kinky.”
His High Lady lifted her chin, a picture of regal power and pride. One hand lifted and beckoned him with a single curling finger, his feet and his hardening cock all too happy to oblige. He studied her as he strode across the room, smug male pride filling him as her gaze dipped over him before returning to his face with an arched brow.
“Ready again so soon, High Lord?” she purred with a voice of pure, sun-warmed silk. The smooth velvet tone wrapped around his length and he felt himself twitch in anticipation. And she hadn’t even fucking touched him yet.
“Believe me, darling, if you’d have seen me looking at you the way I just saw you looking at me, you’d be positively dripping.”
Feyre laughed as he stopped, toes nearly touching. “Hands,” she commanded, and he lifted his arms between them. A guttural moan caught in his throat as she wrapped the silken ropes around his wrists with one of the ties, followed by a heavy-lidded exhale when she turned them so his calves brushed the mattress and lifted his arms over his head and looped the second over the narrow beam between the bedposts.
“Now,” she murmured, trailing a finger down his forearm, over a bicep and shoulder, then up the column of his neck before caressing his jaw and pressing that finger to his lips. “I’m going to play with you, love. And you don’t get to touch.” Rhys nipped at her fingertip, drawing a sensual giggle from her.
“You know I could snap this beam in half, Feyre.” His words were teasing, testing her.
“Then you’ll just have to be good for me, High Lord.” His mate grasped his cock, stroking from base to tip. “Do you think you can do that?”
His throat bobbed as his eyes rolled back. “Yes, my lady.”
“I thought so,” she cooed with a pat to his cheek, her other hand still wrapped around his shaft. The High Lady rose on her toes to press a slow kiss to his lips with an innocence so in contrast to the situation they were currently in. She trailed those kisses over the corner of his mouth before moving to his jaw, nipping and licking gently as she loosened her grip on him. Instead she just let her fingers brush against his rigid shaft, his breath hitching with each cruel tease.
A growl rumbled in his chest when he felt her tongue on the column of his throat, her laugh vibrating through her lips in response. “What’s wrong, darling? Is it frustrating? Being denied your pleasure?” Feyre dipped her tongue into the hollow between his collar bones.
“You are a devious little thing,” he panted as she continued her torturously slow exploration of his body with her mouth, her fingertips and fingernails only grazing his throbbing cock. Gods, it was torment, but sensual and sweet.
“Oh, my sweet love. I’m only getting started.”
Her lips. Her tongue. Her teeth. They set his skin on fire, the powder in his bloodstream roaring to the surface. Her lazy, open-mouthed kisses and nips meandered down over his chest, until he felt her teeth scrape against his nipple as her hand gave his cock a quick jerk.
“Holy fuck!” Rhys shouted, even as her warm tongue soothed the pebbled peak. Her hand stayed wrapped around him, stroking with diabolical patience. A pained groan rumbled up his throat as she wrapped her lips around his other nipple, suckling him and rolling her tongue over it. She pulled away, his flesh escaping her lips with a ‘pop’, and lifted a corner of her mouth in predatory satisfaction.
“You look so beautiful like this, Rhysand. Trussed up for me. Helpless to me.” Her voice sent a tremor down his spine as she echoed his taunting words from earlier. He didn’t think his cock could get any harder, but she was doing her best to find a way to make it happen. “The things I could do to you, love.”
“Gods-fucking-dammit, Feyre, put me out of my fucking misery.” The words that fell from his lips didn’t sound like him. They were desperate and guttural, a demand when he was in no position to make one. She stopped stroking him, pulling her hand away, and he let out a frustrated snarl. The High Lady clicked her tongue.
“Impatient. So unbecoming for a High Lord.” Feyre kissed him again. “Eyes on me.”
Rhys fixed his gaze on hers, not daring to look away. She slid down his body, the oozing tip of his erection brushing against her stomach and breasts as she let her tongue dart out between his sculpted abs. He had never seen something so erotic.
And then she was on her knees, running her elegant fingers up his thighs and flashing him a bright smile that rivaled the moonlight. Their gazes remained locked as she flicked the tip of her tongue over the head of his shaft, and her eyes lit up when he moaned. And then he was sheathed in heat and wetness, and he thought he might explode right there. She dragged her mouth back up his length slowly, reveling in his taut frustration. After a few more languid, unhurried strokes of her mouth, she bobbed her head onto him, setting his nerves aflame.
“Feyre,” he rasped, teetering on the edge. But she pulled him out of her mouth, letting the cool night air dance across the sensitive length of him.
“You don’t get to cum yet, High Lord. You have to earn it.” She rose to her feet and wrapped her arms around his neck. She stepped a foot on the mattress behind him and pulled herself up against his bare front, wiggling her hips until he felt her slit poised upon him. Her lips found the shell of his ear. “I’m going to fuck myself on your cock, Rhys. And you may cum only after I do.”
His mate sunk onto him, sheathing him to the hilt. Gods, she was so hot and wet for him – he was so deep inside her. And the High Lord had no idea how he was going to last more than a few moments. But her breathing grew ragged so quickly as she used her arms and hips to lift herself and then slam back down onto him, her arousal dripping out of her and down his legs.
“You feel so fucking good, Feyre,” he hissed as his pants became whimpers, then moans, then shouts. He thrust his hips in time with hers, plunging deep into her over and over. Without warning her pussy gripped him, tighter than a vice, as she screamed his name. And it was with that satisfaction and the sound of his name on her lips as she screamed her release that sent him toppling over the edge, his own orgasm spilling into her. She clung to him, face buried in his shoulder and breasts heaving against his chest. “Darling,” he whispered, her head lifting at his beckoning. “You are incredible.” He had to tilt up his chin for his lips to brush over her brow, but she hummed contentedly.
The Red Iris Powder still hummed within him, but the edge was dulling. His mate slipped off of him and made to reach up toward the ropes, but he simply tugged and snapped the wooden rail. As Rhys untangled the bindings, he couldn’t help but think about having Feyre bound and at his mercy just as he’d been. And he groaned as he felt himself begin to harden yet again.
“Rhys,” the High Lady sucked in a breath before huffing a disbelieving laugh. “This aphrodisiac might actually end me.”
“Chafing a bit, darling?” Rhys drawled, chuckling. Sweeping her up in his arms, he carried her to a small sitting area that was home to two well-worn armchairs. “One more round? You can’t expect me to have these curtain ties at my disposal and not take the opportunity to use them.” The High Lord set her gently in one of the chairs as she rolled her eyes. But he could smell the warm heat of heightened arousal from her, as well. He stepped away and beckoned for her hands, binding her wrists together like his had been. Then he lowered to his knees before her and hooked each leg over an armrest, splaying her open for him.
“I suppose, if the pie was dessert, then I’m ready for a midnight snack.” Rhys licked his lips in anticipation, craving the opportunity to taste her. Leaning in, he licked a long, intentional stroke from the bottom of her slit all the way up until the tip of his tongue flicked over her clit. It had to be sensitive, and she jerked at the contact. “Delicious,” he murmured, and then he dove in with near-reckless abandon. He suckled on that bundle of nerves and let his teeth scrape against it, his arms having to hold her thighs tightly as her hips bucked to escape his attention. His tongue dipped into her, lapping at her juices and the remnants of his own release – an erotic, consuming nectar.
Returning his attention to her clit, he brought a hand to her opening and slid two fingers in as he sucked her in. Her walls clenched around his fingers and he hummed in amusement, sending vibrations straight into her core. He felt her fingers weaving through his tousled hair, her bound wrists doing little to hinder her at his point. A situation he would remedy shortly. He worked his tongue around her sensitive bud and plunged his fingers in and out of her, the sounds of her moans and pleas wafting to his ears like a night breeze. He loved having her boneless and needy in his hands, loved drawing out her pleasure. Inserting a third finger, he nipped his teeth on her clit. With a wail she clenched around him, and his mouth grinned wickedly as the explosion of her release escaped upon his fingers and splashed into his mouth. He continued to piston his fingers, helping her ride out her orgasm until there was nothing left to give. He stood, then, his cock jutting out in front of him. Feyre looked up at him, panting, eyes shadowed and lidded.
“Fuck me, Rhys,” she breathed, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. “I want you to cum inside me.” He pulled her up for a moment so he could sit, then pulled her back down onto his length with her back to him. Her pussy gripped him so deliciously, as if she wanted to massage his length from base to tip. He fondled her breasts from behind, hugging her back to his front. Reaching down, he spread her legs so that her knees were hooked on the outside of his own. Then he trailed his fingers up her stomach, over a breast, and then took her bound wrists and hooked them behind his neck, her elbows up in the air. Grasping her hips, he lifted her slightly before thrusting up as he slammed her down. Her throat released a ravaged moan as he buried himself inside her.
The High Lord set a slow, deliberate, punishing pace, his mate liquid and whimpering atop him. As he pushed himself into her, he reached up and rolled a nipple between his fingers. Feyre cried out at the sudden pinch of pain and overwhelming pleasure.
“Fuck, you’re so deep,” she moaned breathily. He grinned, letting his teeth graze the shell of her ear.
“Do you want to cum like this, Feyre? With my cock buried so deep inside you?” He increased his pace and she met him thrust for thrust. And it was so fucking incredible.
“Yessssss, Rhys. Please,” she whimpered, her wrists pulling at him and keeping her body taut. He reached down between her obscenely splayed thighs and rubbed a finger over her clit, drawing a sharp cry from her lips. His thrusts became wild and disjointed as he circled the sensitive bud, her pussy spasming around him as they drew closer and closer to the precipice.
“Cum for me, darling. Let go. Take your pleasure from my cock and my fingers,” he whispered sensually, teeth nipping at her earlobe. Her hips jerked and bucked as he rammed into her over and over and increased the pressure of his fingers on her center. He could feel it, the climax roaring up for them both. A feral scream erupted from his mate as he plunged into her, the stimulation finally too much.
His fingers were relentless on her, determined to draw another orgasm from her sensitive core. Her muscles convulsed around his cock as he kept grinding their hips together, and he gritted his teeth against the release that was building like a tidal wave.
“Rhys! Oh Gods, Rhys!” his mate screamed desperately, muscles twitching as her body writhed and wriggled to escape his ruthless focus. He roared as he released into her, cursing at the power of the orgasm he could no longer hold back. She fell over the edge mere seconds later, and he moved his hand from her swollen, sensitive clit to splay against her stomach. He held her as they both floated down from the heavens, chests heaving and muscles loosening. Rhys pulled her wrists from behind his neck and swiftly untied the binding. He lifted her off of him and clutched her to his chest.
“Come, darling. We need to find a place to rest.” Pressing his lips to her hair, he stood and strode – quickly and silently – out of Tamlin’s chambers and through the door across the hall. He carried her to the bed and laid her down gently, reaching up to tuck a stray lock of honey-blonde silk behind her arched ear. “I’m going to get our clothes and something to clean you up with, Feyre. I’ll be right back.”
Exhaustion fell over him like a blanket, sudden and heavy and warm. He scooped up his pants and her dress, choosing to abandon anything else in favor of finding a cloth to soak with warm water and take with him across the hall. He closed the door once he stepped into the room, turning the lock and tossing their clothing over a chair. When he reached the bed, he found his mate a mere breath from sleep.
“Darling, I need you to stay awake a little bit longer. Just let me get you cleaned up, alright?” he murmured lovingly as he lifted one of her legs and pressed the warm cloth gingerly against her tender flesh. He didn’t do much else, knowing how close she was to sleep. So after taking care of her most intimate areas he tossed the cloth to the floor and crawled over her into the bed. He wound an arm around her, pulling her flush against him.
“I hope you enjoyed yourself tonight,” he crooned, kissing her hair and stroking his thumb absentmindedly over her stomach, feeling her muscles tighten as she giggled.
“Far too much. As soon as I can walk again, I’m going to kill whoever brought that pie.” His mate’s voice was soft and heavy with sleep, but he grinned that she could still be so feisty after the night they’d had. As soon as the thought passed, he felt her droop in his arms, breathing regular and deep. Rhys exhaled a contented sigh, ready to follow his mate into a deep sleep, his last thought being whether he should warn Helion of his mate’s impending wrath or let the chips fall where they may.
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Pani Puri Stories
A/N: As requested by @feysandandnyxsworld hope you like this fic! nd Yes! I love hamilton...
MAIN MASTERLIST, ACTOAR MASTERLIST
“Chaos and bloodshed are not a solution
Don't let them lead you astray.
This Congress does not speak for me”
“Oh by the cauldron, Cassian!” Azriel groaned in frustration as his brother belted out the lyrics to his favourite musical. Unfortunately for him, his High Lord was a ginormous theatre nerd. He sighed, suddenly wishing that death would give him peace as Rhys joined in,“
Let him be” Rhys raised a brow at his annoyed shadowsinger, playfully patting his back as if to say the battle was already lost. Az rolled his eyes at his brothers, but the gods must’ve been in his favour for his High Lady and Mor breezed into the room to scope out why the brothers were getting louder as if a war was waging in Rhys’s study when he had promised that they would be going over court reports.
“They're playing a dangerous game
I pray the king shows you his mercy
For shame, for shame”
“Oh, for fucks sake-” She whispered upon seeing Nyx in the room. “Rhysand! Cassian!” Mor howled in irritation, rubbing her eyes as if she had been scarred for life, while Feyre laughed on seeing the infamous High Lord of Night prance around the room with Nyx on his shoulders, laughing and clapping while Rhys was rapping as if his life depended on it. Mor’s curses fell on deaf ears as they got to the fun bits,
Yo, he'd have you all unravel at the (heed not the rabble)
Sound of screams but the (who scream)
Revolution is comin' (revolution, they)
The have-nots are gonna (have not your)
Win this (interests) Feyre, giddy with joy on seeing Rhys enjoy himself joined in,
“It's hard to listen to you with a straight face”
“Not you too!” Mor yelped, scrunching her nose in exasperation and groaned, “ I live with a bunch of two-year-olds. We will not be having another Hamilton live action in this house!” But as they paid her no heed, she winnowed, hopefully, she disappeared to bring back reinforcements and not to murder them all while they’re asleep.
They carried on with the musical until Azriel, stormed out in a flurry of shadows and sighs “to go find Mor to put an end to this torture” according to him. Feyre and Cassian dissolved into fits of laughter while Rhys played with Nyx at his desk, using his magic to distract their son.
“Should we go find them?” Feyre asked the remaining group but Cass just grinned, his eyes alit with a crazed gleam. Her mate just sighed as if he knew exactly what his brother was thinking.
“Oh! I have an idea,” Cass said merrily,
“Here we go again,” Rhys drawled while mussing Nyx’s hair.
Feyre was clueless, “Mind filling me in?” Cassian’s grew wider as he cleared his throat dramatically to which Rhys said, “Drama queen.” under his breath, the said man flipped his hair, “Hate the sin, love the sinner Rhysie boy”
Nyx caught onto what his uncle said, clapping his hands, “Rhysieeee” Feyre laughed, kissing her son, “Yes! Dada is Rhysie,” Rhys’s eyes widened in shock, shaking his head he glared at Cass, “I’m going to kill you.”
The general quickly started to explain his plan, “Ok so, Feyre dear, every time, Az or Mor disappears because let’s be honest they’re annoyed at us we try to mend our broken relationships using..” He paused expectantly, waiting for Feyre to finish his sentence, only Nyx’s broken words filled the air of crickets, Rhys helped him out, “Food. We give them a truckload of food.”
“There has got to be more to this plan right?”
“Voilà! My amazing friend you are indeed as smart as they say!” Rhys sighed but grinned, “Ding, ding, ding, darling, ‘tis all not what it seems” Feyre ‘s grin grew wider as Cass said his goodbye to go prepare for his devious master plan.
* a few hours later*
Cassian plopped a huge bowl of green liquid onto the middle of the dining table, around which the entire inner circle, save for Amren who was at the summer court was gathered round.
Az was taken aback by the sheer size of the bowl, Mor on the other hand was eyeing it as if the bowl and its contents would explode at any moment. “Um, explain please.” Feyre was the one to raise the question that had been on everyone’s mind except the perpetrator’s, Cassian, determined to become the greatest showman Velaris has ever laid eyes on, gestured to the bowl.
“Feast you’re eyes upon my newest concoction,” Rhys interrupted, “Cass, I know you wanna do your whole thing but we-” he gestured between him and Feyre, “Have reservations at Rita’s in an hour so” Cass’s face fell but he quickly sobered up as Rhys finished speaking, “Rhysie you better go ahead and cancel because, in an hour, we will be balls deep in pani puri water!”
He crossed his arms across his chest, satisfied. While Az and Rhys grinned at each other in challenge, Mor turned pale while Feyre yet again, was confused, “What’s Pani puri?”
Cass jumped in, “Well it’s a traditional snack from the south of Illyria where you dip,” he gestured towards another bowl that was stacked to the brim something fried, “the puri, which is a kind of deep-fried bread, into the Pani which is water with mint leaves, coriander leaves, green chilli, ginger and lemon juice. Now if you want, you can put the filling in as well but for that’s totally your choice”
Feyre nodded, astonished, “That sounds spicy.” Cass grinned. “It is, the point being to eat as many as you can till you either forfeit or emerge victoriously.” He rubbed his hands together maliciously and declared, “Let the legendary Pani Puri contest commence!” Mor groaned, “Why do you make me do this! You all very well know that my spice tolerance is shit,” Rhys replied, “But you’re competitive as fuck my dear cousin. That’s where the fun lies”
Mor glared as Rhys slipped a hand around Feyre pulling her close, “What do you say, darling? Ready to get your beautiful ass kicked?”Feyre scoffed, “In your dreams prick, you’re going down.” Rhys’s eyes flashed. He leaned in to whisper into her ear, his breath sending shivers down her spine, “Oh really darling?” Feyre’s toes curled in her socks but she slipped a hand into his hair, Rhys’s eyes closed shut involuntarily, he groaned softly as he dragged her nails through his scalp and tugged on the stands,
Cassian and Azriel were staring each other down, sneaking occasional glances to the pile of food in front of them, no doubt forming strategies on how to stuff the most in their mouths.
“Enough trash talk kids and Rhys stop stinking up the place with your scent, I’m going to throw up on you.” Mor interrupted tying up her hair, Rhys cleared his throat, half-dazed but disentangled himself from his mate, “Apologies cousin.” he said shamelessly as he pushed his sleeves up. “Now,” Mor cracked her knuckles, “Ready, set, go!”
And the inner circle were off with their contest which lasted late into the night for putting a group of competitive fae together with no rules or regulations for a game that involved eating, suffice to say the decision was a recipe for absolute chaos. In the end, Az tapped out after his hundredth cursing his love of sweets for forfeiting, Cass was next at 121 pani puris, satisfied that he beat the ice cream man, Az. Mor followed at 200 pani puris, she plopped down with red eyes and a runny nose.
The last two standing, were Feyre and Rhysand, out of which Feyre emerged victorious at 290, her hair was disheveled, she looked dangerously green but wiping her tears away she raised her hands in happiness. Rhys stood at 280, and immediately went to throw up.
Feyre has since been named, the terror made of spice. That name is still to this day, said reverently in the streets of velaris.
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