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iambutmortal · 2 years

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Darling, I'm a Daydream Dressed Like a Nightmare

Summary: When Lucien goes to the Night Court to update Feyre and Rhys the Spring Court, they would like to thank Lucien for his services in the naughtiest way possible.

Written for @sjmkinkmeme and also a massive thank you to @separatist-apologist for beta reading

Pairing: Feyre Archeron x Rhysand x Lucien Vanserra

Word Count: 4k

Content Warning: Dubious Consent, Explicit Cheating

Read on AO3

Lucien hated the Court of Nightmares.

Rhysand’s underground court made his skin crawl, reminded him far too much of Amarantha. How Rhys could stand it after being trapped for fifty years, Lucien didn’t know. He was surprised Feyre hadn’t ordered it demolished, if only as a favor to her mate.

Still, when the High Lord and Lady of the Night court summoned him there to give his monthly report on Spring, he had no option other than to show up, not while they offered him the only employment he was likely to find.

The doors to the throne room swung open as he approached, and he strode into the cavernous space. His golden eye clicked as he took in the stone walls, the carved beasts and low, flickering light. Mercifully, Rhys and Feyre were alone, none of the other members of their court of dreams hanging around, judging him for his every move.

The smell of sweat and desire hung heavy in the air. Rhysand had no doubt been having one of his famous parties, although those had been notably tamer since Feyre came into the picture. It was hard to host an orgy to rival Helion’s when you had a mate and baby at home.

Feyre and Rhys were still dressed for her monstrous court, scraps of see through back fabric showing off most of Feyre’s lightly freckled skin as she lounged in her mate’s throne. Rhys perched on the arm, his wings nowhere in sight while her own seat remained empty.

“Thank you for meeting us here,” Feyre said once Lucien stopped at the bottom of the dais, her blue eyes keen as her gaze roamed over him. Lucien felt himself stand up a hair straighter as she took in his polished boots, the simple tunic opened nearly to his navel. His hair hung loose around his face, an easier style than tying it back.

Lucien sketched a quick bow, raising one brow in mock difference. “Whatever my High Lady requests.”

Feyre snorted.

Rhys cleared his throat and Lucien straightened. “Your report?” he asked.

“Spring is unchanged. Tamlin remains largely absent, even as his lords work to rebuild. I have concern about Autumn trying to encroach—”

Feyre held up a tattooed finger to stop him. “You’re too far away,” she pouted. She seemed to spread her legs wider, something Lucien would have hardly noticed had that single bolt of fabric not fallen between her thighs, showing off more of that creamy expanse of skin.

Lucien averted his eyes, turning to Rhys, who only smirked.

“Come closer,” Feyre ordered, and Lucien forced down the lump forming in his throat. Hesitantly, he took a step up onto the dais.

“Closer,” Rhys said. There wasn’t much more closer Lucien could get, but he took another half step forward until he was practically standing between Feyre’s parted thighs.

“Beron seems to be sending patrols closer to the border than he has in the past,” Lucien said, continuing. Feyre extended one bare leg, wrapped it around the back of his thighs, and tugged. Lucien’s mind went blank as he stumbled forward, bracing himself against the arms of the throne to stop himself from falling into her lap.

“You work too hard,” Feyre purred, running one finger down the front of Lucien’s shirt.

Lucien quickly righted himself. “I can prepare a written report if you prefer.”

“We don’t prefer,” Rhys said. Perched on the chair arm, he was only slightly shorter than Lucien, which made it easy for him to lean forward and lick a stripe up his neck.

Lucien’s body went hot, simultaneously tensing and going loose all at once.

“We do however think you deserve thanks,” Feyre added, undoing one of his few remaining tunic buttons.

Hastily, Lucien stepped back. “I think a bottle of your good wine would more than suffice.”

Feyre hummed, looking up at him before reaching out a hand and grabbing the bulge in the front of his pants. Lucien had been so distracted he hadn’t realized he was already half hard, and, now that Feyre was touching him, was rapidly growing harder.

Lucien looked away, staring at a spot on the back wall. “I’m a mated male, I don’t want—”

“You haven’t accepted the mating bond,” Feyre countered, scraping the nails of one hand lightly along the front of his thighs while her other continued to stroke him through his pants. “And Elain doesn’t want you.”

Lucien flinched. He knew, even if he didn’t want to acknowledge it. Elain had no interest in him, actively avoided him. He was keeping himself chaste for her, remaining loyal despite having no proof she expected it. Or even if she bothered to do the same for him. He doubted it.

“We want you, though,” Rhys said, moving from where he’d been watching to stand behind Lucien, running a hand under his tunic and up his chest.

Indecision, and deep shame, flickered through Lucien. He should value that mating bond more. Still, it had been so long since anyone had genuinely wanted him for more than what he could offer them—

Rhys seemed to sense his wavering, was probably poking around in his mind to make him compliant. His hand on Lucien’s chest pushed, shoving him into the open throne.

“We would take care of you,” Feyre added, rising gracefully out of her own seat to stand next to Rhys. They stared down at him with twin predatory gazes.

Lucien swallowed thickly. “I don’t want this.”

“You don’t want this, or you shouldn’t want this,” Rhys asked, his voice teasing.

Feyre stepped forward, climbing into his lap so her legs straddled his hips. “Don’t tell me you’re not curious,” she whispered into his ear, her lips brushing the delicate skin. “Haven’t wondered what it would be like.”

Lucien shivered slightly. He would be lying to himself if he said he’d never thought about it, early when Feyre first came to Prythian. She’d been so fierce, even when she was nothing more than skin and bones and scared out of her mind. But then she’d belonged to Tamlin, and now Rhysand, and Lucien had quickly banished auy thought of it. A part of him privately mused if it was because she looked like Elain, if there was some magic driving him towards the Archerons.

“Thankfully, little Lucien only has to be curious about what one of us is like in bed,” Rhys purred. He stood back, content to let Feyre take control.

“That was a long time ago,” Lucien ground out, as Feyre reached down to fully unbutton his shirt. He hated how turned on he was at the sight, how hard his aching cock was.

Maybe it had been too long.

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten,” Rhys teased. “I thought our nights together were special.”

“I was young,” Lucien said defensively.

“Want to see how I’ve improved? Although I don’t remember you ever complaining,” Rhys purred.

Feyre had made it down to his pants, was slowly undoing the laces that were barely containing his cock.

“I would rather not be ripped apart for touching another male’s mate.” It was a last ditch effort, and all three of them knew it. If Rhys wasn’t upset by Feyre draped over his lap, there was little else Lucien could do to provoke him.

“Rhys doesn’t mind sharing,” Feyre said, undoing that final tie. Lucien’s manhood sprung free, long and proud, already weeping slightly at the tip.

Feyre’s eyes went wide at the sight, even as she slipped from his lap and onto her knees.

“Not as little as Rhysand likes to make it out to be?” Lucien asked.

Feyre didn’t answer, instead leaning forward to run her tongue along the underside of his shaft.

“Fuck,” Lucien breathed, arching out of the seat slightly.

Feyre smiled up at him. “Still don’t want this?” Lucien didn’t answer, and Feyre wrapped her lips around the very tip of his head, sucking lightly.

She’d barely touched him, and Lucien was already far too close. His hand paled in comparison to the feeling another body, could never elicit the same feeling.

“Elain never hears of this,” Lucien ordered.

Feyre’s smile was pure wickedness as she winnowed them out of the throne room.

They landed somewhere warm, so at odds with the ever present chill of the Court of Nightmares.

Lucien was perched on the edge of the most comfortable bed he’d ever felt, a slight breeze blowing through the open arched windows. From the mountains outside, Lucien guessed they were somewhere above the Court of Nightmares, probably in Rhys’ private residences. His people could rot in the darkness, but he was too good for that, needed the open air.

Feyre’s hands were back on him, tugging his pants down his legs and throwing them off into a corner somewhere, her mouth returning to his cock.

Rhys sat behind them on the bed. He ran his hands up Lucien’s chest, divesting him of his open tunic while Feyre continued her ministrations.

“Feyre darling,” Rhys said, “don’t you think Lucien should lie down, since he works so hard.”

Releasing him with a pop, Feyre grinned up at her mate. “I think he’s earned the rest.”

Rhysand pressed lightly on Lucien's shoulder, laying him down on the bed.

Ferye slid onto Lucien’s lap, head between his parted thighs. She ran her tongue along his slit, collecting the drop of precum on his tip.

“Now, now, Feyre,” Lucien said, rising onto his elbows to watch. “You’re not going to tease me, are you?”

“What would you do about it,” Feyre asked, toying with his balls but leaving his shaft untouched.

Instead of answering, Lucien reached out, wrapping Feyre’s long hair around the palm of his hand, tugging lightly. Her lips parted in surprise, and Lucien took the opportunity to shove his cock into her mouth.

Feyre gagged as he hit the back of her throat, her hand reaching out to brace herself against his thigh. Lucien groaned at the feeling, sitting up and burying his other hand in her hair and using his grip to bob her head.

Saliva dripped down Feyre’s chin as Lucien fucked her face. From somewhere above him, Rhys growled. “I believe Feyre darling wanted to be worshiped.”

Lucien glanced behind him to see Rhys watching them intently, his body tense.

“Feyre, tell your mate this is what you want,” Lucien said, pressing deeper into her throat until her nose brushed against his lower stomach. Feyre gagged, unable to speak with him occupying her mouth. “Feyre,” he taunted. “You asked for this, didn’t you?”

He loosened his grip on her hair just enough for her to nod her head. Rhys relaxed slightly, his hand drifting down to the ties of his own pants.

Lucien tightened his grasp again, keeping Feyre’s head steady as he pulled out to the tip before thrusting back in. Feyre screamed against him and Lucien gave a dark laugh. “Poor Feyre, you thought I was going to worship you?” Another thrust. “That’s for good girls.” Another. “Not sluts who let their mates watch them get another male off.”

Feyre moaned, the sound muffled.

Lucien felt the rough slide of fabric along his back as Rhys came up behind him. “We serve at the Lady’s will,” Rhys snarled.

Lucien looked down at Feyre, spread out on his thighs, grinding slightly against the mattress in search of any kind of freedom. He felt release growing closer, his balls tightening at the sight.

“Then what does the Lady want?”

Blue eyes met his, and Feyre sucked, hollowing her cheeks as she took him impossibly deeper. Rhys reached around Lucien, rubbing his testicles with one hand.

The twin sensation sent him over the edge and Lucien came with a groan. Cum spurted into Feyre’s mouth, and she swallowed it dutifully. Some spilled from her swollen lips, dripping down onto Lucien’s thighs.

“Clean that up,” Lucien ordered, releasing Feyre’s head and running one hand down her exposed spine, the sun and moon inked there.

“Make me,” Feyre said.

Lucien hummed, fully willing to drape her across his lap and spank her for her behavior. She was saved by Rhys, who reached out to lift her off him, plopping her on the bed before taking her place. He looked flushed, his cock erect between the laces of his pants.

“Your mate sucks good cock,” Lucien said appreciatively.

“I know,” Rhys said, smirk firmly in place as he leaned down to lick the cum off Lucien’s thighs, biting softly at the skin.

Out of the corner of his eye, Lucien could see Feyre watching them intensely.

“Something to say, Feyre?”

“Did you truly lie together…before?”

“Five hundred years is a long time to know someone,” Lucien said. “You should ask Rhys what he and his brothers got up to in their youth.”

Rhys lifted his head. “Why talk when we could demonstrate for Feyre darling?”

Feyre made a small whimper and Lucien grinned. He guided Rhys up his body until they were level. Blue eyes met his and Rhys’ brow quirked, daring him to go first.

Lucien took it as a challenge, surging forward to meet his lips in a clash of tongues and teeth. It brought Lucien back to his youth, when they’d both merely been Lord’s sons, messy and inexperienced, eager for release in any way possible.

Rhys’ cock brushed against the skin of Lucien’s stomach, and Lucien reached down to wrap a hand around it. He stroked it slowly, enough to excite but nowhere near enough pressure to bring Rhys anywhere close to climax.

He could hear Feyre whining in the distance, and broke the kiss long enough for them both to look at her. Her legs were parted, a finger running through her slick folds as she watched.

Rhys chuckled. “I promised Feyre there would be two males lavishing attention on her. I don’t think she’s quite getting what she wanted.”

Lucien let go of Rhys’ cock with a sigh. “I didn’t become Spring’s emissary without knowing how to please the people in power.” He cocked his head. “Although it’s hard to do that when you’re both wearing so much clothing.”

Rhys snapped his fingers and his and Feyre’s clothes disappeared.

“Show off,” Lucien muttered, sliding back against the headboard to make room for Feyre to climb between them.

She crawled over, facing Rhys. He pressed a sweet kiss to her lips, and Lucien wrapped his hands around her hips, tugging them towards him. Feyre fell onto her hands and knees, ass in the air.

“Poor Feyre,” Lucien said, dragging a finger through her folds, gleaming with her arousal. “You’re practically dripping.”

“Are you going to do something about that, or just tease?” Feyre asked.

Lucien’s answering spank sent her lurching forward. “If you want to talk, I can put your mouth to good use.”

Feyre turned back to glare at him, but remained silent.

Lucien palmed her ass, admiring the red print his hand had left. He leaned over her, his chest against her back. “I think Rhys should kiss and make it better,” Lucien whispered into her ear conspiratorially.

Feyre shivered slightly, nodding. Lucien sat back up, pulling Feyre with him until. She spread her legs, exposing her pretty, pink pussy to Rhys, who stared down at it in wonder.

“Lick it,” Lucien ordered.

Rhys didn’t need further prompting, falling forward to bury his face in Feyre’s cunt. She moaned, her head falling back to rest in the cradle where Lucien’s neck met his shoulder.

Lucien wrapped an arm around her body, palming her breasts while Rhys lavished attention on her clit. Feyre whimpered, her hands going to Rhys’ hair to hold him against her.

“I want you to fuck me,” she declared when Lucien flicked his thumb across her nipple.

“Eager, are you?” Lucien asked, returning his hand to the slick pooling in Feyre’s core.

“Please, Lucien.”

He responded by inserting a single finger into her cunt. She clenched around it, desperate for any relief.

“Are you sure you want me in your pretty pussy?” Lucien asked. “After all, it might be hard to explain a little redhead baby running around. What would you tell your family?”

If possible, Feyre seemed to grow wetter at that, her hips grinding against his hand even as Rhys growled low in the back of his throat.

Lucien pulled his finger, swirling it around her puckered hole and spreading that slickness. “I think it would be much better for me to fuck you here.”

Without waiting for a response, Lucien shoved his finger in her ass. Feyre tightened around him, before slowly relaxing as Rhys doubled his efforts on her clit. Lucien dragged his cock through her folds, wetting it as he worked a second finger in.

Feyre was panting, her head still resting against him. “Lucien,” she snapped, clearly frustrated with his slow touches, “fuck me.”

Always one to please his partners in bed, Lucien removed his fingers and lined his slick cock up with the entrance of that hole.

Feyre gasped when he pressed the tip in, so obviously unused to being penetrated there.

“Relax,” Lucien whispered, hands returning to her breasts, those erect nipples. She did, leaning against him and letting more of his cock in.

“You got a good one, Rhys,” Lucien said. He was going out of his mind, Feyre holding him in a viselike grip.

Rhys paused his ministrations long enough to smirk up at Lucien from between Feyre’s parted thighs. “I know.”

Feyre laughed, body going even looser.

“Is this what you dreamed about?” Lucien asked, pulling out slowly before thrusting back in. “Did you touch yourself while thinking about this, my cock in your ass with your mate on his knees?

“Shut up,” Feyre whined, rolling her hips in time with his, “and fuck me.”

Lucien responded with a particularly sharp snap of his hips. Rhys matched him, sucking hard on Feyre’s clit. Lucien felt her body tense, growing closer to climax and Lucien had to clench his ass to keep from coming.

“Are you going to come for us?” Lucien asked. “Show your mate how well you take my cock?”

Feyre let out a strangled cry as she broke, holding his cock impossibly tight. It sent Lucien over the edge, had him coming in her. He rode them both through it, Rhys licking up any of the cum that spilled out.

Lucien collapsed against the headboard when they were done, pulling Feyre down on top of him.

“For someone who didn’t want to do this, you’re awfully bossy,” Feyre said.

Lucien chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. “Then tell me, how may I best serve you, Lady?”

Feyre looked at Rhys, sitting opposite them, his cock still erect. “I think it’s only fair Rhys gets to come too,” she answered, crawling off him and onto Rhys. “Since he’s been so patient.” Lucien watched as she slid onto his cock, admiring the way her slick folds parted to allow him to enter. Feyre rode him, the muscles along her ass and thighs fully on display. Rhys sucked kisses along her breasts, no doubt leaving marks that would make it clear to all of them who Feyre belonged to at the end of the night.

Lucien’s dick was already hard, and he lightly stroked it in time with them.

Rhys and Feyre were both panting when she paused, muscles shaking as she hovered over Rhys, the head of this cock just barely buried in her wet cunt.

“We brought you here for a reason, and it’s not to watch.”

“Oh?” Lucien asked.

Feyre sunk down on Rhys’ cock. “I was told you fucked like you had fire in your blood.”

“I’m sorry my previous efforts didn’t live up to those claims,” Lucien said, sliding up behind Feyre anyway. “What can I do to please my High Lady?”

“I want you in me,” Feyre breathed. “Both of you.”

Lucien made eye contact with Rhys over her shoulder, who stilled his hips. Lucien slid into Feyre and she gasped at the fullness, the feeling of two cocks in her, only separated by that thin wall of skin. They gave her a second to adjust and then Lucien pulled out at the same time Rhys surged forward, giving Feyre no relief from the onslaught.

She was a mess between them, rolling her hips without rhythm as she alternated between craving more and seeking respite.

Feyre gasped as Lucien tilted his hips to hit a new angle. “Fuck, Elain was wasted on you.”

The mention of his mate spurred him on, driving him impossibly deeper into her. Feyre’s cries were hoarse, broken things as both males slammed into her, and she broke around him.

Lucien kept rutting into her, Rhys matching his effort. Feyre came again, one orgasm bleeding into the next. Her tightening walls had Lucien seeing stars, and he spilled into her at the same time as Rhys, their fluids mixing.

Feyre collapsed on top of Rhys, Lucien lying on his side next to them, the three spent. Cum slowly leaked out of Feyre, marking what they’d just done.

“Should I clean you up?” Lucien asked.

Feyre shivered in Rhys arms. “No more,” she begged.

“Had enough of the fire in my veins?” Lucien asked, rising from the bed.

Rhys quirked a brow. “For tonight. It has been a while since I’ve felt that flame.”

“Then you’ll have to ask me to deliver a report more often.” Lucien gave them both a bow before winnowing out of the Court of Nightmares.

Elain cradle Nyx in her arms, rocking the baby back and forth as she headed towards Feyre and Rhys’ room. She’d agreed to watch him for the night while his parents held court. She didn’t mind being left out, hated the leers that seemed to follow her wherever she went to the Court of Nightmare, its members sizing her up, wondering what advantage Feyre Cursebreaker’s sister could offer them, how she fit into the Night Court.

Yet it was one more reminder that she didn’t fit in among Feyre’s friends. They all seemed genuinely excited every time they had to go down there, no matter how much they tried to hide it, while all Elain felt was dread.

Nyx cooed as they got closer to the door, picking up the scent of his parents. Elain wrinkled her nose at the stench of sex. She could live without the constant reminder of how vigorous both her sister’s sex lives were.

When she picked up another smell, she froze. It was the one that haunted her in her dreams, inevitably led to her waking up with her panties soaked. Lucien, but deeper somehow, muskier. The scent of his arousal. But entwined with her sister and Rhys’.

Elain chewed her bottom lip as she inched closer to the door, senses straining. She could make out muffled voices behind the it, but none of them contained the timber of Lucien’s, the tone never failing to send shivers up her spine.

She knew it was wrong to hug Nyx closer to her chest and press her ear against the door, but she couldn’t help herself. And really, it was their fault for forgetting to put up a ward.

“It’s nice to know that your recommendation of Lucien’s skill wasn’t exaggerated,” Feyre said.

Rhys’ reply was too soft to make out, not that Elain would’ve been able to hear it over the roaring in her ears. Her stomach felt tight, even as warmth pooled in her core against her will.

It was just the smell of her mate’s arousal, she rationalized, her body being driven by some instinct. It had nothing to do with the idea of her mate being pleasured, even as her mind conjured images of his face screwed up in ecstasy, of what could lie underneath those carefully tailored pants.

Or how he could pleasure her, if Feyre was to be believed.

She should knock on the door, should confront them. But Elain just hoisted Nyx against her shoulder and moved back down the hall, towards her own room where she could take care of her own needs in private.

#you know what #if you follow me for elucien content #maybe just skip this one #acotar fanfic #acotar fanfiction #feyre x rhysand x lucien #feyrhycien #feyre archeron #rhysand #lucien vanserra #sorry taylor for bastardizing your lyrics

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