Nesta and Cassian have to stay somewhere and it's the classic fandom last-room-one-bed-cold-night thing❤️
sorry this took so long!
“Nesta, we don’t really have a choice here.”
“No,” Nesta repeated, louder, harsher this time, “I’m not doing it.”
Cassian huffed, falling into the nearby chair and putting his head in his hands. “It’s the only option they have unless we want to sleep in the forest.”
“I’d gladly take the forest over one bed,” she spat at him.
When Cassian agreed to bring Nesta out on a mission to one of the Illyrian camps, he hadn’t expected the journey there to be so…difficult.
For starters, they had to make the journey on foot, given Nesta’s refusal to fly. Cassian tried to argue, but it was no use. What should’ve taken three days, now took almost a week.
And then there was Nesta, who barely spoke to him as they journeyed on, aside from a few curses and the occasional “insufferable bat.” He’d gladly embraced the nickname, telling her that he’d be less insufferable if she’d just let them fly to the destination.
She simply said no, and that was that.
But Nesta deserved credit. She didn’t stop moving, didn’t slow down, as they trekked through the forests, only stopping for meal breaks and rests. Despite her grumbling, she was a good traveler.
One who Cassian was–surprisingly–glad to have with him.
Most nights, they managed to find a town with an inn and multiple bedrooms ready for them. They were cheap enough, and he was glad for the bed. And the shower. He was positive Nesta was, too. For as swiftly as they moved, the dirt and mud of the forest eventually managed to cake onto their clothes and their skin, right on top of a layer of sweat. And even with the grime, Nesta didn’t say a word. Didn’t complain about the dirt, instead choosing only to complain about the male beside her and his stench.
She didn’t seem to realize that for as bad as he may have smelled, she was right there, smelling alongside him.
Every night they slept in an inn, cleaning themselves off and heading towards their respective rooms.
Until tonight, when the owner told Cassian that there was only one room available. And one bed.
She refused to speak, other than a simple no, repeated over and over as Cassian tried to convince her.
“Nesta it’s freezing, don’t be this stubborn. You’re not sleeping in the forest.”
“Well I’m certainly not sleeping in a bed. With you,” she said, refusing to look at him.
“I’ll take the floor.”
Nesta’s head lifted as she looked at him, opened her mouth, and then closed it again.
“You can have the bed,” he said, “all I’ll need is a pillow. C’mon, Nes, just…I’m not letting you freeze. And we need sleep, we can’t keep going like this.”
She took a deep breath, and said, “fine. But you’re on the floor.”
“Deal,” he said with a hesitant smile, before walking back to the owner of the inn and handing him a few silver pieces.
Cassian came back with a key. “Let’s go.”
Nesta only followed, saying nothing as they walked up the stairs and to the room.
The room wasn’t large, by any means. The queen-sized bed took up a majority of the space, set in the middle of the bedroom, followed by a small dresser along one of the walls. There was no chair, no desk…just the bed and the floor, it seemed, for sleeping.
“There,” Nesta said, tossing him a pillow and blanket from the bed before hopping into it herself, sighing at the comfort of the mattress. Cassian laughed at the sound, before excusing himself to find the bath, and subtly suggesting Nesta do the same once he returned.
But by the time he came back, she was fast asleep, snoring lightly under the covers. It was no use arguing to share the bed, not when it would require waking her up–and he was in no mood to deal with a rudely awakened Nesta today.
So he took up his spot on the floor and tried to get comfortable.
Nesta awoke to the sound of chattering teeth.
“Cassian,” she hissed, turning on her side to face the warrior on the ground.
He was asleep, but…the blanket didn’t seem to do much for warmth, for Cassian wasn’t only chattering his teeth, but his entire body seemed to be shaking–shivering–from the cold.
“Cassian?” she asked, trying to get his attention. The warrior didn’t stir, didn’t awake.
Raising her voice, she repeated his name.
He shot up, the blanket falling off of his body, before looking at Nesta, her face illuminated by the candlelight. “Nesta?”
Cassian shrugged. “It’s cold.”
He could see Nesta mulling something over in her head, but…
“Get into bed. With me.”
He hadn’t expected that. “Are you sure?”
“I don’t want you to die of hypothermia.”
He chuckled. “It’s not that cold, Nes. If you don’t want me to, I’m happy to–”
“Just get into the bed. Please,” she said, before laying back down.
The mattress groaned under his weight, and then he was beside Nesta, right under the covers with her. His wings, though…
“You can wrap them around me. If you want. If you need to stretch them out.”
“I’ll have to scoot closer to you for that.”
“Okay. It’s warmer that way, anyway,” was all Nesta said.
So he wrapped his wings around her before pulling the covers back over them, the warmth a comforting presence.
Nesta moved closer to him. “Put your arm around me.”
Cassian’s eyes widened. “What?”
“It’s cold. I thought…maybe I could give you some of my warmth. And vice versa.”
He obliged, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her closer to him.
“Good night, Cassian.”
“Night, Nes,” he replied, and he could’ve sworn he felt Nesta smile at his reply.
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All fics are nessian and definitely not child-friendly but any that feature explicit smut are marked with a ** and those that flirt with a lil’ lemony content are marked with with just one. My inbox is always open.
Growing up not knowing where her next meal was coming from didn’t exactly satiate Nesta Archeron’s appetite for the finer things in life. But at twenty-four such things are a collateral comfort; from her gorgeous apartment in New York, to the trigger finger that paid for it, Nesta Archeron has a lot of things. One thing she doesn’t have though, is a boyfriend, something her youngest sister Feyre seems intent on remedying when she sets Nesta up with her brother in law, Cassian. Now she has something else to add to her list of things: a big fucking problem.
chapter one *
“Hey Feyre, just calling to say that I know you want me to go on this blind date, but I actually can’t because you see, I’m a gun for hire, which as you can imagine makes dating rather tricky. Also I’m absolutely gone for my latest target’s bodyguard, who I’ve never actually spoken to but in the month and a half I’ve been stalking him has somehow managed to make me fall head over heels for him. Anyway, we still on for brunch on Thursday?”
chapter two *
She knew it was irrational to be angry at him. But something uncomfortable and tight wriggled in her chest at the way he was looking at her. Because it wasn’t her he was looking at like that. Instead, it was the random girl he thought she was, all pristine ringlets and baby blue gaze like a god-damn angel.
chapter three **
God this man could kiss. He kissed her like her full lips were some overripe peach spilling a too soft sweetness he’d die before wasting a drop of, hungry and slow and indulgent he devoured her with an abusive and perverse affection.
chapter four **
Nesta’s hands might have been trembling slightly as she knelt to the floor and lifted one of the bathroom tiles, revealing what for all intents and purposes, should have been a bible. It wasn’t of course. It’s was an industrial safe.
chapter five **
“And I thought we’d grown out of sharing toys, but it seems both our expectations were thwarted.”
“Humans aren’t toys!” Feyre reminded her. Not that Nesta didn’t already know that. No vibrator had never made her cum as hard as Cassian had.
chapter six **
“Feyre only thinks she wants me there, Cassian. She’ll change her mind as soon as Rhys implies I think I’m better than him for not touching the carrots his private chef put too much butter on and I call him a hedonistic asshole who loitered round playgrounds looking for a wife before meeting Feyre.”
“Maybe don’t do that then?”
This was one of those little moments Cassian would bundle up like a cherished Christmas ornament and tuck inside his heart forever. If his heart remained in one piece. It was so full he was worried it might break. (Modern AU)
seasonal smut **
“I figured we could both be naughty tonight and save Santa the trip,” she said, licking her upper lip in an arcing motion with the tip of her tongue. Eliciting a number of lovely memories that made his already half-hard cock stir. (Modern AU)
He’d have know that bracelet if it had hit him in the back of the head, which it had done before, twice. He’d watched Nesta tucking her hair behind her ear in a potions class or giving him the middle finger enough times to recognise the interlinking charms that normally graced her pale wrist.
“cassian begs nesta to wear a couples costume with him for halloween.” **
Cassian Siphon was her equal in ambition and lust for a challenge, but he didn’t seek to sooth his raw passion and volatility with a carefully curated air of intimidating class like Nesta did. He also had the impulse control of a teenager. (Modern AU)
“bikini shopping with your best friend is a lot harder when you’re in love with them” **
Thrusting her plethora of perspective bikinis into his arms she turned on her heels. “Come on, I need to try these on” she sauntered off and Cassian couldn’t keep his eyes off her ass as she lead him toward the dressing rooms. (Modern AU)
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Nessian assassin au???? X
Much like a circle, or the opinions of men on women’s reproductive rights; this date was pointless.
The reasons for this inescapable fact were listless, but included the following:
1. In Nesta Archeron’s line of work, dating, was like trying to watch the news without getting pissed of. An admiral thing to attempt, but equally misguided and inevitably unsuccessful.
2. Nesta’s suitor was Rhysand brother; meaning he would no doubt be an arrogant, preening idiot with indecently good looks and a whole lot of nothing else going for him by blood.
3. Nesta was already hopelessly and disastrously in love.
Of course Nesta hadn’t been able to use any of these as valid excuses to get out of the date. “Hey Feyre, just calling to say that I know you want me to go on this blind date, but I actually can’t because you see, I’m a gun for hire, which as you can imagine makes dating rather tricky. Also I’m absolutely gone for my latest target’s bodyguard, who I’ve never actually spoken to but in the month and a half I’ve been stalking him has somehow managed to make me fall head over heels for him. Anyway, we still on for brunch on Thursday?”
It truly was a tragic set of circumstances.
Nesta thanked the door-man as he slipped her coat from her frame. Carefully and expertly folding the garment over his forearm and heading to the cloakroom. She’d made sure to give him a considerable tip, knowing her coat was probably worth more than what he made in a month.
Nesta wasn’t ashamed of her money, as far as she was concerned all currency was blood money. Every dollar in America was built on colonialism and funded by a corrupt economic system, she didn’t see why her cash was any dirtier just because she earned it by putting bullets in the backs of people’s heads. But she’d made it practice to always leave generous tips where she could.
Nesta would always remember Friday nights spent counting pennies on a dirty windowsill because it meant they could use the light of the street lamps when their own electricity had been cut off. Her hollow stomach ringing out along side the metallic song of coins with an ache like she’d been punched in the gut.
Now she was rolling in it.
“Comfortable” as Feyre would say.
The Archeron sisters had made good; Feyre having married into the richest family in the west of the globe, Elain with a clientele of elitists gagging to throw their wealth at the most extravagant weddings her sister could plan and Nesta cashing in a six figure transaction ever time she pulled a trigger.
But she wasn’t flashy. Nesta found something grossly immature in wearing wealth obtusely and without taste. This evening she’d opted for a simple dress, a dark emerald thing that reached her mid thigh and hugged her full form with a lethal softness. Bare of any jewellery and hair like dark chocolate loose and softly curled, her makeup had been applied minimally save for her mouth which she had painted a red like cracking blood, leaving her lips like a brutal bruise against her soft complexion.
It was the perfect ensemble for Le Divinità, tastefully expensive so that she did not look out of place in the architecturally exquisite building, the warm glow of the soaring room warming her bare arms and gold detailing and chandeliers with dripping, diamonte glass offset against the kenia cream marble.
While Nesta was set on finding fault in her date, his taste was undeniable. Le Divinità had never prioritised fad-like trend and a costly ambience over good food and a legendary bar.
Heels clipping quietly against the stone floor, Nesta made her way over to said bar, fingers already restless for a cigarette to still her agitated dread at what was to come. She ordered a gin, straight, and checked her phone for the time. She’d made sure to arrive early, primarily to ensure she had time to neck back some liquor before her date arrived, but also because she’d find some small joy in making him uncomfortable having seemingly left her waiting.
Slinking into a bar stool, she tucked her ankle behind the another and taking a long sip of her gin, she couldn’t help where her mind wondered like a cheated lover back to their betrayer. Sickened with her own besotted crush as though it were a thick spoon of honey she were gagging on, Nesta still couldn’t help but think of him.
She’d spent this afternoon atop a rooftop, tortured by the unfolding Friday ritual she could now confirm went unaltered each week.
From noon till four in the afternoon Helion Day would work out in his private gym, located on the top floor of his more frequented office building, with his oh so gorgeous bodyguard.
The soaring glass windows meant Nesta had been entirely unobstructed as the only audience member to a truly delicious show of both men’s physiques. Her binoculars trembling slightly in her hands as she’d watched the CEO’s companion begin completing a gruelling regime of pull ups, bench pressing and combat instruction, all without a shirt. The expanse of his powerfully built upper body was the stuff of Nesta’s dreams. Tan flesh slick with sweat and dusted with fine hair over the broad panes of his defined chest and running in a darkening trail down his chiselled abdomen to disappear beneath the low slung waistband of his sweatpants that made a profuse Adonis belt visible to Nesta. With his thick hair tied back in a bun, intricate tattoos mapping his left pectoral and creeping over his arms and an obvious stubble creeping up his jaw, Nesta hadn’t known where to keep her eyes for longer than a hot moment of agonising appreciation. She knew where her eyes were should have been, but while her client also had his own physical appeal, Nesta only had eyes for one man.
He was so impossibly broad and large it gave Nesta a primal thrill to think of how he could use that brute strength to fuck her as hard and rough as she craved. The impression of his cock through those sweat pants had left Nesta staring at one of her largest vibrators once she’d got home and telling herself that there was no way he could have been bigger, despite what she’d seen implied.
She’d closed her eyes and pictured him beneath her as she’d then rode the pink toy, her cunt throbbing with wet arousal from the hours of visual foreplay. She burned to know what his voice sounded like. Whether he would groan as he fucked her throat with his thick cock, or if he’d murmur filthy words or encouragement and praise. She’d almost given herself a headache trying to fabricate in her mind the noises escaping his mouth as he’d worked out. That rugged jaw clenching in moments of intense exertion and handsome face often appearing as though he were grunting through a movement that Nesta swore would snap any other man in half.
A purely male and deep voice sounded from beside her.
She turned, and almost shattered the half empty glass in her hand.
Had it been spiked?
The gin has to have been laced with some hallucinogenic- that was literally the only reality that she would accept being any part of. Because standing before her, was Helion Day’s body guard.
“Do I know you?” she drawled boredly.
He wore a crisp, white dress shirt which hugged his upper body in a way that was doing things for Nesta, and a simple pair of slacks that had clearly been tailored to his powerfully built legs.
She was utterly, truly and absolutely fucked.
What the hell was she meant to do? She’d been made, she’d been fucking made. Three years and Nesta had never made one mistake, hadn’t slipped up once, she hadn’t just done everything by the book she’d all but written the new bloody testament on assassination, so how the fuck had this guy caught her?
“Well you know of me, Sweetheart” his smile was like watching chocolate melt, warm, rich and decadent. A five o’clock shadow was cast across his jaw and an entirely unfair dimple kissed the corner of his mouth as he smirked with a dangerous combination of pure male arrogance and sincere attention.
She played at looking him up and down with a dismissive flick of her eyes. “Unlikely,” she said absently, taking a sip of her gin, her lashes fluttering shut as though she were physically pained by the boredom this interaction caused her. Should she smash the glass and get a deep swipe at his gut, going for the face as he’d lunge at her and then try and make a break for the door? He was at least six foot, and Nesta knew exactly how toned he was, but she was quick.
He clutched a hand to his chest playfully, his eyes still dangerously assured “you wound me” he said, before leaning in ever so slightly so that Nesta swore she could taste the echo of an aged cigar on his breath. “And to think I was arrogant enough to believe it was me you’d got all dolled up for this evening” he winked, plucking a cube of brown sugar from a tiny dish on the bar and popping it between his perfect teeth, a smooth and swoon-worthy smugness set in his jaw that Nesta couldn’t work out if she wanted to punch or kiss off of his stupidly gorgeous face.
“And to think,” she purred sweetly, “I was naïve enough to think I would be able to get all dolled up this evening without an entitled asshole bothering me” Nesta’s glare was cool as the ice that swirled in glossy cubes at the bottom of her glass.
He was toying with her, like she were some amusing doll he’d found and watching her try to wriggle out of this with nothing but a sharp tongue was his new favourite game.
“Well thank god I’m not an entitled asshole, just the very good looking one your sister set you up with. However, if any such individuals approach you, let me know and I will defend both your honour and right to look as lovely as you do without the unsolicited advances of men”
Nesta felt like a party popper had gone off in her rib cage and she was choking on the streams of confetti in her throat, heartbeat off kilter.
There was no way.
Nesta’s life had taught her that the universe did not have a sense of humour, and the only way that her bodyguard heart-throb also happened to be Rhysand’s brother, was if she were the metaphorical punchline of some cosmic joke. An assassin and a bodyguard walk into a bar… god it even sounded like a shitty joke.
“Cassian Velarys” he extended a large hand to her, which Nesta took, slightly entranced by the unfolding madness. He pressed a brief kiss to the back of her palm which Nesta had not been expecting.
“You look nothing like Rhysand” she said.
A light chuckle escaped him and Nesta thought he might need to hold her upright if he kept being so damned sexy.
Rhysand was what Nesta would describe as pretty, with piercing eyes that she refused to admit we’re actually violet, and sharp features cut with classical beauty, while Cassian was a far more devastating kind of handsome where Nesta was concerned. Wilder, throbbing with power and unrefined, rough charm. And older as well she’d guess, but not by much. They couldn’t be related, this could not be happening.
“I’m adopted” he explained.
Nesta could not believe the absolute insanity of this. It was a coincidence of Shakespearean plot; throw in some inadvertent incest or cannibalism and it would have been a Greek bloody myth.
She took a sweeping swig of her gin, chin tossed back delicately enough but still allowing the rest of the liquor to empty into her system.
The most infuriating part of this entire bullshit scenario was that it made total sense. Feyre has told her that Rhysand’s brother ran a security firm, but that at the moment he was doing some private hire work for a friend. Hell she’d even mentioned in passing a few months ago how Helion was an old friend of the Velarys brothers.
Okay, okay so this was happening.
The bartender had appeared again to take Cassian’s order and Nesta couldn’t help but take the opportunity to fawn over that handsome face up close at last. A doe like softness to her eyes that the bartender definitely noticed even if Cassian didn’t, his attention on the wine list as he asked about a Portuguese red. At work he’d always worn black Ts and trousers, the fitted fabric hugging at his chiselled upper body. The man cleaned up nice. Which was saying a lot when his comparatively unkept state was enough to have Nesta worried she might literally be drooling as she observed him. With her cheek propped on her curled fist, elbow against the bar, Nesta couldn’t have dragged her gaze away if she’d had a gun to her head as she watched him finish up his order and added, “And vodka” flicking her eyes to the man behind the bar. “Lots, and lots or vodka”.
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5,8 and 9 for nessian's first time making love pls!!
5. hands on the other person’s back, fingertips pressing under their top, drawing gentle circles against that small strip of bare skin that make them break the kiss with a gasp
8. being unable to open their eyes for a few moments afterward
9. one small kiss, pulling away for an instant, then devouring each other
A/N: SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT. I hope this is what you were looking for!
He’d really intended the kiss to be a chaste one, the stereotypical end-of-first-date peck. And when he pulled away Cassian had half expected a slap given their history, so when Nesta immediately tugs him back by his neck and practically devours him he’s a bit caught off guard.
Still, he feels guilt settle in his stomach when she releases him and he sees her eyes are still shut, grip still there but loose, uncharacteristically hesitant. "Did- was that a mistake?”
Her eyes shoot open when laughter rumbles through his chest, an indignant reproof on her lips that vanishes when his hands grasp her waist and pull her forward, his mouth firm against hers.
Nesta’s lips part with a gasp as his fingers rise beneath her blouse, gently teasing the soft skin there as Cassian deepens the kiss. “Nesta.”
Given this scenario, Cassian likely would’ve guessed the next few moments would involve desperate removal of clothes and clumsy stumbles through the apartment, but his expectations are upended as Nesta pulls away and strides toward her bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes in her wake.
Cassian manages a few steps in her direction before his brain short circuits somewhere near the bathroom and his swollen mouth gapes open. Somehow, it’s a nearly naked Nesta standing before him, hands on hips, that jars him back to reality and he’s back in gear.
When his hands skim up her sides and he makes to unsnap her bra, Nesta slaps him away and he starts back tracking, trying to guess when he misjudged her intentions. Until she speaks to clarify, “This isn’t going to be one of those, ‘she’s naked and he’s just unleashed the necessaries,” she mostly ignores his snort as her hands fall to the straining zip of his jeans, “If I’m doing this with you I want all the spoils.”
He’s considering whether being called ‘spoils is a compliment as he tugs his shirt off and Nesta removes his pants and boxers in one go, then turns toward what’s presumably her bedroom. “We’ll save the adventurous locations for later.”
“Later?” Cassian asks hoarsely as he follows.
Nesta turns to him again, the lace of her bra brushing deliciously against his bare chest. “Doubting whether your performance will have me asking for seconds?”
It’s the challenge in her eyes that truly brings him out of the haze of mostly naked Nesta and gets his brain in gear. In one sweep she’s in his arms, legs around his waist, glorious friction below the belt. “Doubting whether you’ll be able to keep up, more like.”
They’re dropped back onto the bed at this point and Nesta’s eyes are glinting dangerously when she flips their positions. “We’ll see who’s keeping up with whom, Cassian.”
Then she’s fully bare too and they’re a hurricane of grasping hands and desperate lips until she’s fully seated atop him and if his mind could manage a coherent thought Cassian might be embarrassed by the whimper that leaves his lips. Then again, if it makes her face light like it is right now, makes that deep-throated laughter fill the room - there’s probably little he wouldn’t do.
Time passes as they battle for control, more like a dance than an actual clash of wills, but either way he’s on the precipice entirely too soon and can’t bear to not bring her with him. Not that she seems likely to let that happen either.
Cassian bats her fingers away and his own take their place and soon he’s hovering over her, Nesta’s back arching against the rumpled sheets and his mouth going dry at her beatific expression. She’s just crashed over when he follows with a low growl, just enough thought left in his brain to collapse next to her.
He almost thinks he’s in some catatonic dream state when fingers card through his hair gently, followed by the soft press of lips against his temple. Still, he’s too content to question it and simply pulls her closer as they drift off. Confirmation comes a few hours later when Nesta slips beneath the sheets pooled at his waist and decides to show him just how serious she is.
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some nessian fics i really like + why i like them;
this coincidentally went along with @anidealiveson's thanksvember idea, but it's a little different. these are either my favorite nessian fics ever or fics that i thought did something really well so im gonna put them in the hall of fame anyway :)
(also im sure most people have already heard of most of these but idc)
Sympathy for the Devil by @saphie3243: ACOTAR series told from Nesta's POV; maybe the best and most comprehensive take on Nesta's thoughts, inner workings, and emotions. It gives such an honest glimpse into her character that it feels like canon. Would recommend if you love reading longass essays on why Nesta is the way she is.
POETRY by @sayosdreams: short oneshot where Nessian are assigned to a creative writing project together that was just tender enough to imprint on my mind forever; on this list for the line "I think I just fell a little bit in love with you."
Drops of Sapphire by @sayosdreams: open for a surprise :)
Like Pristine Glass by @ladynestaarcheron: I only read one chapter of this fic and it was the last one, which meant I cried all night and refused to read it from the beginning b/c it hurt (also great writing). Features Nesta running away from the Night Court, Nesta with kids, and Cassian being forced to face his mistakes.
Tidal by @flowerflamestars: No thoughts all I know is that Pacific Rim sexy!!! The aesthetic makes me feral and jaeger-pilot Nessian make me feral!!
Love Her Like She Should Be Loved by @julemmaes: This fic is so crucial for anyone who's ever wanted to slap the IC around or see Cassian stand up for his girl. I wish there was a word for this specific trope b/c it's my favorite trope ever, but for now I call it romantic-partner-goes-feral-when-people-are-mean-to-the-love-of-their-life. Also Nesta being treated like an outcast will never not make me cry.
Sister by @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter: the same trope as LHLSSBL! Newly mated to Nesta, Cassian's temper is hanging on by a thread when he has to be around Rhys and the IC, remembering how they treated Nesta when she was depressed and alone. Very angsty and dramatic ficlet; 5 stars. (this person has a lot of amazing nessian fics this one is just my favorite)
Under The Weather by @thewayshedreamed: my favorite take of the many Cassian-taking-care-of-sick-Nesta fics out there. It feels extra special when Nesta and Cassian are barely acquaintances but he'll drop everything to take care of her anyway. Also caring Cassian>>> cocky Cassian.
Hellhound by @thewayshedreamed: more caring Cassian! He intervenes when Nesta is on the verge of a panic attack and helps calm her down and it's all very sweet and soft. (oneshot)
Mad Woman by @smallerinfinities: this fic is fairly new but it instantly grabbed my attention; it has escort Cassian providing Nesta with ~therapy~ which I didn't know I needed until I read it for myself. (multipart)
What's Wrong With A Good Story? by @maastrash: I can't believe I forgot to add this the first time around but this fic is a Nessian staple! Other than Nesta in scrubs and terminally ill Cassian (crying), the relationship development in this fic is adorable and makes me not care if the ending is tragic or not.
A Court of Fever and Frustration by @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter: nesta takes care of cassian this time, and it's PERFECTTT. romance has always been about the little details to me, and this fic is full of little details: rubbing someone's back, knowing where they're hurting without asking, soothing touches. i also think being sick makes characters vulnerable in a way that physical injuries just can't and i love seeing cassian absolutely wrecked in front of nesta. ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️
some hand-picked faves from @lady-therion's masterlist (these are the five-star comfort fics for when i'm really missing nessian):
Close Quarters: snowed-in-a-cabin fic that is soft, warm, and ~tender~
The Warrior's Heart: mostly smut, but like poignant smut? it's not necessarily emotional but it makes me emotional, and it's entirely because of the writing.
Entirely My Own: more of the same type of smut that makes me feel the same way as TWH. i think the word i'm looking for is "intimacy", and it's my absolute favorite thing to find in a fic.
Honorable mention goes to Her Dark Affection: dom!Nesta, enough said.
this is definitely not an exhaustive list and im sure i've forgotten a lot of wonderful fics, but i will be updating this as i find/remember more fics i love! also make sure to check out the complete masterlists of all these writers bc there are definitely works not on this list that i think people would enjoy the hell out of.
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Seven minutes ago, Tarquin had asked Nesta to dance. They were on the pleasure barge, drifting just off the coast. It was nighttime, and other than the moon and stars, the only lights were that of the many strings of bobbing faelight illuminating the rails and masts of the ship.
Three minutes ago, Tarquin had told her about a peculiar request letter he’d received last month. One minute ago, a scent that was masculine and earthy and utterly intoxicating hit Nesta so strong she nearly panicked.
Thirty seconds later, Cassian had appeared and asked Nesta to dance.
She stared at him, frozen. He wasn’t supposed to be here. Wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near her.
“Nesta?” Tarquin said. Her eyes snapped to him. Her hand was still on his shoulder. “We’re only a quarter mile from shore.” He winked and walked away.
Nesta stared after him. At nothing—at everything. The room was too small.
Cassian moved into her eyeline. “Nesta—”
“Don’t,” she hissed, stepping back. There were too many eyes and ears on the dance floor. She turned and made her way to the lowest level of the ship. She found the stern. It was quieter, more private.
For a moment, there was nothing but silence. Nothing but the silence that lived between them. The skirts of her dress whispered around her legs in the balmy breeze. She thought it felt like white-linen bedsheets stained in blood and tears, and wrapped around the finally broken body of a female who’d wished for mortality so that her pain might sooner be eased.
Cold, she felt cold.
“You smell like the Summer Court—”
“Fuck you,” Nesta said.
Cassian put his hands up slightly. “I didn’t mean it that way. And if… you’re free to love whomever you want.” His voice was sad, understanding.
She didn’t need him to tell her that. “Why are you here?”
“To tell you I’m sorry. I’m sorry for how I acted, for what I did to us, to you. I know it doesn’t change anything, but… I’m trying to do better. I’m doing better.”
She noticed then that he was clean. That the suit he wore was pressed and new and expensive, his shoes glossy. He’d shaved and his hair had been cut. Not a whiff of alcohol—his wings, what was left of them, were bound tightly together.
They looked the same as they had the last time she’d seen them. When she had not dared touch them for fear of hurting him. She wondered if they hurt him now. Wondered if he was using something other than alcohol to deal with the constant pain and infections they were prone to. There was so little left of his wings. The right side was mostly skeletal, but the left side… The third finger was less than half it’s original size, it was the longest one left, and it didn’t even reach his waist. Not anymore. She thought maybe one of the claws, the left one, looked swollen, puffy.
He noticed her eyes and said, “I’m learning to deal with it, the pain. I’ve been talk—”
“You left,” she said violently, painfully.
“You left me—broken and bleeding and you left. You didn’t care. You stopped caring, Cassian. I was staring down an eternity I didn’t ask for and you were my mate and you left. You stopped trying. You said you would protect me, my people, my family. And then you just gave up. You gave”—her voice cracked—“up.”
“I’m sorry, Nesta—”
“You’re sorry?” She didn’t notice the tears of rage slipping down her face. “HOW DARE YOU. You don’t get to come here and tell me you’re sorry. You don’t get to walk back into my life like it’s some grand gesture and—and for what? What did you think would happen? That you’d show up sober and bathed and say sorry, and I would forgive you? That I would believe you?”
Cassian merely stood there. A look of understanding and sorrow on his face.
“This isn’t a storybook, Cassian. This is real. And it bleeds and hurts and it doesn’t stop at happily ever after—we have to live, we still have to live. And you stopped trying. Cassian. You stopped trying, and when I tried to help, you pushed me away. You—”
You didn’t want me, Nesta wanted to say. You didn’t want me because no one ever wants me. Everyone always leaves me, and no one stays. But you were supposed to stay. You promised to stay.
Nesta wiped her face. “You don’t get to decide when, and if, you can be a part of my life, Cassian. Not anymore.”
Cassian stood there, nodding. His head was downcast, his shoulders curved. He opened his mouth to speak, but—
Nesta vanished. She’d realized the moment they’d reached the stern why Tarquin had told her they were sailing only a quarter mile from shore. That was the farthest she could winnow.
She landed in knee deep water. The small waves of the lagoon ebbed and flowed around her, pulling the pale purple of her gown back and forth.
She looked at the barge. At Cassian, standing at the stern. Unable to winnow. Unable to fly.
She would go. Tomorrow she would go. So she looked at him, one last time, before she turned her back and walked onto the beach.
[End Dark Paradise - pt 6] [pt. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12]
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( • . • )
Nesta @ Cassian: You want this?
( • - • )
♥️ < \
Nesta @ Cassian: Sike.
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It was @accidental-rambler‘s birthday this week. Which means I had the perfect excuse to write Nessian smut! Happy birthday, Kate!
He felt weary to his very bones.
Cassian knew he should probably eat, but his appetite had been dulled by his visits to the camps, his fight to get the girls trained. All he really wanted now was his bed and her.
The name was like a prayer in his mind, and he found himself almost desperate for her, as he opened the door to the room they shared. He wanted the familiar sight of her – so often, he’d come back to this room, to see her cross legged on their bed, wrapped in a heavy dressing gown, her hair tugged up into a messy mass on top of her head. Cassian knew he was the only one that ever got to see her like that; to the rest of the world, she was always carefully dressed, her hair wound into an impeccable braid around her head.
He opened the door to the room, his weariness almost entirely replaced by eagerness, and came up short.
There she was, but she wasn’t in that oversized dressing gown. Instead, she wore grey-blue that left her legs bare and clung to her body. The way it hugged her ass immediately drew Cassian’s gaze, and he felt a thrill of lust rise in his body.
“You’re late,” Nesta commented. Her hair was loose – a rare sight, even for Cassian – and she tossed it back as she looked at him over her shoulder, her expression cool. She eyed him for a moment, and then turned away once more.
She was reading, Cassian realized with amusement. And that was the one thing entirely normal in the situation.
Quirking his head for a moment and feeling a smile curve his lips, Cassian simply watched her for several moments. He chuckled to himself at his own foolishness, and quickly stripped off his upper fighting leathers, tossing them to the floor. He heard Nesta huff in irritation, but she continued to read.
Naked to the waist, Cassian climbed onto the bed and crawled slowly until he was braced over her. He didn’t allow his full weight to fall on her of course – he was far too heavy – but he did press himself flush against her.
“You missed your opportunity for this,” Nesta told him, and he had to give her props; had he known her less, he might have thought her bored tone genuine. But Cassian had made a study of Nesta Archeron, so he heard the slight catch in her voice, the way she hesitated, just slightly, when turning the page of her book.
“Perhaps I can convince you to take pity on a poor man?” Cassian replied. He brushed her hair away from her shoulder and neck, and found himself distracted by it for a moment. There was a curl to it that fascinated Cassian for a reason he couldn’t quite understand, and on those rare occasions Nesta left it down, he loved to run it through his fingers. This occasion was no different. Nesta’s shoulders relaxed slightly at the motion, making Cassian feel smug with the reminder that she enjoyed his petting, even if she wouldn’t admit it. Finally dropping her hair, he turned his attention to the skin of her neck and shoulder, left bare except for a thin strap.
Cassian pressed a kiss to her throat, trailing his lips down to her shoulder, and back up again. One of Nesta’s hands tightened on her book, but still she continued to read – or at least pretended to. Narrowing his eyes, Cassian let his tongue slip out to trail along her skin as well, and was rewarded with Nesta giving the slightest of jolts.
“Hmmm,” she mused, not looking at him. “I’m still not really in the mood.”
Cassian grinned at the back of her head, inexplicably pleased with this woman that owned so much of him.
“Let me try a bit harder,” Cassian responded, and he pressed a kiss to the back of her neck. He kissed his way down, and ran his hand along her side. He froze for a moment, when his fingers felt an odd texture, and pulled back to inspect the cause.
The side of her nightgown had lace insets, he realized with glee. Between the patterns, he could see her pale skin, and he stroked her again, delighted with the feel of her skin between the fine lace.
Nesta sighed heavily again, and rolled over. Cassian pulled back just enough to let her do so, before positioning himself over her again.
“You’re getting distracted,” she informed him, one of her hands stroking along his abs. Her eyes followed the move avidly, a sure sign she was a little distracted herself.
“It’s not my fault,” Cassian replied, his muscles flexing beneath her touch. “There’s so much to be distracted by.”
Such as the way her nightgown dipped low, leaving the curves of her breasts bare to his gaze, including a small pattern of freckles that Cassian had loved since he had first discovered them. He found he needed to show his appreciation of those freckles, and he pressed kisses to the skin, and lightly dragged his teeth over them.
Nesta arched into his mouth, her hand slinging to the back of his neck. She tugged at his hair after a moment, and Cassian allowed her to pull him up, mostly because it made him impossibly hard when she decided to take control, and he found himself more than happy to kiss her as she desired. Never breaking their lips apart, Cassian rolled to his back, Nesta sprawled over his chest.
“You don’t want to be on top?” Nesta asked, pulling away, her brow furrowing.
“I thought I’d let you do the work,” Cassian replied, his fingers digging lightly into her hips.
Nesta frowned down at him, resting her hands on his chest. After a moment, she reached up to brush his hair from his forehead, then cupped his face with her hand.
“Do you want me to kill the bastards?” she asked, and Cassian let out a bark of laughter, not because he thought she wouldn’t, but rather because he knew the Illyrian generals were terrified of this delicate woman with the power of death in her hand, and damn if it wasn’t tempting to let her loose on them.
“Kiss me,” he said instead, and Nesta did, pressing her lips to his in a kiss so soft that Cassian found himself utterly helpless beneath her.
“I love you,” she murmured against his lips, and Cassian knew no one else – not even her sisters – would get to see this side of her, so very vulnerable to the emotions that raged between them.
“Nesta,” Cassian murmured, and he pulled her into another kiss, her name a prayer each time they took a breath. “Nesta. Nesta. Nesta.”
She dragged her nails softly down his sides, and fumbled with his pants, fighting to undo them without breaking contact between them. She somehow managed to achieve her goal and set his cock free. She stroked him, as she positioned herself over him. And then she sank down.
Cassian cursed and released her hips to clutch the blankets instead. Nesta rested her hands on his chest and lifted herself, dropping again. Cassian arched himself with her movements, and they rapidly aligned on their momentum. Cassian sat up, and Nesta clutched at his shoulders while he pressed hungry kisses along her collar bone and up her neck. There was nothing soft in their kiss this time, when Nesta bit down on his lip – hard enough to sting, but not break skin – Cassian growled in response and thrust up a bit harder.
“Cass…” Nesta moaned, letting her head fall back. Cassian twined his hand in her hair and rested his head on her chest, gritting his teeth to try and keep from coming before Nesta did. “Cass, come with me.”
Nesta titled his head up, and rested her forehead against his. Their eyes met, and Cassian couldn’t look away, caught up in everything that was Nesta. He saw the moment she came, her eyes not breaking from his, but instead going hazy, and she clenched around him, making Cassian come right after her.
They collapsed to the side, both of them breathing heavily, Cassian spooning her back and clutching her close, even as he fought for breath.
“Today was difficult,”Nesta said, cuddling her backside against him. Despite his exhaustion, Cassian still felt the stirrings of interest at the motion, but Cassian was used to being half-aroused around Nesta; found it almost comforting by this point. “What happened?”
“They still refuse to give the girls the opportunity to fight,” Cassian replied. “One of them…she’s the best of all the trainees, far more talented than any of the males. And they’re punishing her for it.”
He felt Nesta tense in anger at the girl’s plight, and he pressed a kiss to her shoulder and buried his nose in her hair.
“I think I should visit the camps. It’s been a while.”
It was on the tip of Cassian’s tongue to refuse her, but then he reconsidered. The Generals truly feared Nesta, and though Cassian’s instinct was to protect, he knew she was more than capable of taking care of herself. He was fighting for the right for women to fight… how could he deny that same right to Nesta?
“If you convince them you’ve cursed them, I’ll buy you all the books you want.”
“You buy me all the books I want anyway,” Nesta replied, and he could hear amusement in her voice. “Besides, I don’t need to be bribed for this. I like terrifying the Illyrian Generals.”
She did, taking a sort of childish glee in it that never ceased to amuse Cassian. Just thinking of it had him grinning and nuzzling her neck fondly.
“I love you, Nesta Archeron,” he said, echoing her earlier confession.
In response, she tugged him in for another kiss.
And suddenly, he was far more than just half aroused.
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Fine Print (9)
I hear that Nessian Month is coming up. Here's an (early) treat.
Let us all casually ignore (and forgive) the sudden change in tenses. I've been playing with my writing style some, and it's getting confusing to switch back and forth. I'll also apologize for the abrupt ending. It seemed as good a place to stop as any.
Warnings apply for NSFW content, of course. These two are very naughty.
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Nesta snapped her book shut and sighed. “What?”
Despite her attitude, Cassian continued to watch Nesta, his curiosity open and honest. He never flinched whenever Nesta growled at him, and it bothered her more than she cared to admit. Nesta didn’t like that Cassian was unaffected by her ill-moods, that they seemed to warm him to her more than turn him away. Nesta could hiss and spit at Cassian all she wanted; he would barely do more than blink.
He continued to stare. This was a favorite pastime of Cassian’s, watching Nesta breathe. It was annoying on a normal day, but Nesta found it especially irritating when she was trying to read in peace. She couldn’t concentrate with those hazel eyes of his burning the skin of her forehead.
Nesta huffed at him; he could at least pretend to be embarrassed about being caught staring. But he wasn’t, and he wouldn’t.
“What’re you reading, Nes?” he asked without shame.
His intense gaze flickered to the book in Nesta’s hands before returning to her face. Her hackles rose at his nosey ways, but it was Nesta’s stubbornness that prevailed. She ignored him; Nesta was not about to let Cassian embarrass her.
“Well?” Cassian always was impatient.
Nesta cracked the book open once more, replied in a bored voice, “Porn.”
Cassian barked a laugh, slapping his knee and throwing his head back, but the cocky grin on his face fell off when Nesta did not return the sentiment, when she did not laugh or smirk at her own very clever joke.
His jaw dropped. “Wait! Really?”
Nesta kept her face void of emotion as she displayed the cover for him. A picture of a half-naked man in a ridiculous pose. It was tempting to snicker at the look on Cassian’s face; Nesta was always pleased to catch him off guard. Instead, she stared at him, a bored look plastered on her face.
“Do you really think that this—“ Nesta shook the book in her hands, laughing to herself. “—is the cover a book with real substance?”
Nesta made a show of admiring the shirtless man on the cover, relishing how it made Cassian scowl. Her description of the book was definitely unjust. There was plenty of substantial plot, but Nesta wasn’t about to back down from this standoff to acknowledge the half-truth. No, it was much more fun to scandalize Cassian.
“They fuck every other page,” Nesta said and resumed her reading.
A stunned silence followed. Nesta almost looked up to be sure that Cassian was still breathing, but he spoke before that was necessary.
“Shit,” he breathed.
Nesta bit the inside of her cheek to keep from grinning. Clearly, Cassian was not expecting her to own up to such naughty reading. He should have known better. Nesta wasn’t known for having shame, and she definitely was not about to let anyone make her feel embarrassed for her reading choices.
“Actually,” Cassian drawled, dragging Nesta’s attention back to him. His signature grin had reappeared, lewd and arrogant and incredibly annoying. “That’s kind of really hot.”
Nesta wanted nothing more than to slap the amusement off of his face. The bastard.
She refused to back down from the challenge. “Is it more or less hot than my old lady sweater?” Nesta gestured to her chest; the cobalt blue knit hung from her frame, too big to fit properly. “I bought it just for you, you know.”
Cassian scoffed, a victory of its own. His hazel brown eyes swept across her torso at the reminder—another victory.
The sweater Nesta had arrived in this morning was an ugly thing, but the knit was soft and comfortable. Whether or not it was the first clean thing Nesta found in her apartment was of no consequence, but the thought of teasing Cassian was. Nesta couldn’t pass up the opportunity.
“Sweater wins.” Cassian dragged his teeth over his bottom lip. “No question.”
Nesta huffed, and a wide grin stretched across Cassian’s face. She hated how her body heated at the simple comment.
“Will you come sit with me?” Cassian asked, patting his thigh in invitation.
“Why?” Nesta asked though she could read the heated promise in his eyes. He was up to something; Nesta just didn’t know what his plans were just yet. Not exactly.
“To cuddle.” The thoughts burning in Cassian’s eyes were far less innocent than the offer. Nesta’s pulse quickened. He smiled.
“And… so that I can touch you while you read that dirty book of yours.” Cassian slouched deeper into the sofa, sprawling out his legs to get more comfortable. “I want to find out if reading that book is enough to get you wet.”
“Touch yourself,” Nesta hissed.
“I can if you want me to.” Cassian’s smile was clever and full of promise. “Is that something you’d like to watch, Sweetheart?”
Nesta’s traitorous body reacted to his words. Her breasts tightened, and her skin pebbled as Cassian watched her, a hand sliding indecently down his abdomen. He knew exactly what he was doing. Nesta hated him for it, even as her gaze crawled across his body.
Since her attempt at dying in his apartment a few weeks ago, Cassian had become… distant. The sex was more or less nonexistent, especially as Nesta’s body took its sweet time beating the winter cold that plagued her. When the mood did strike, Cassian was the very definition of vanilla in the bedroom, soft and without fanfare. An itch to be scratched.
If Nesta had known that allowing Cassian to nurse her back to health would kill their sex life, she would have died in private.
Cassian’s hand dropped to his crotch, and Nesta ripped her gaze away, flushing with the realization of where she’d been staring at. Instead, she focused on the book in her lap, struggling to read the words as they blurred together. Nesta ignored the man sitting across from her, pretended not to hear the sound of his zipper coming undone or the dark chuckle that followed.
The resurrection of Cassian’s adventurous side was surprising. And thrilling. Nesta knew there was no way she’d be able to continue reading her book, and Cassian had to know that, as well. The pages blurred together as Nesta’s ears went into overdrive, listening to the soft shuffle of clothing.
Cassian groaned then, loudly and with abandon. Nesta’s gaze snapped to him. Her mouth dried at the sight of him sitting across from her, pants undone and his cock in his hands.
He stroked himself lazily and held Nesta’s gaze, waiting for her reaction.
Without her permission, Nesta’s attention dropped to his cock, watching as it hardened in his hand. She yanked her gaze away just as quickly as it fell and stared at the book in her lap. The words there—what little she could make out in her frazzled state—were not much better than what was happening before her. Nesta bit the inside of her cheek and refused to let her cheeks warm.
Another groan, low and drawn out. Nesta was not sure how she was supposed to ignore him. Ignore what he was doing—the brute. Nesta couldn’t stand him.
Cassian’s next chuckle was hoarse. It tickled down Nesta’s spine, but she refused to look at him, to give Cassian what he wanted. Instead, Nesta stared harder at her book, tried to get a look at Cassian from the corner of her eye.
He noticed. “Do you like what you see, Sweetheart?”
“This is sexual harassment.” Nesta huffed. “Nobody wants to see that.”
And yet, as another groan escaped Cassian, Nesta found her gaze drawn to him once more, to the fingers he had wrapped around himself. Her eyes tracked how his fist moved slowly up and down, up and down.
Nesta soaked in the sight of Cassian’s head, laid back against the couch, the column of his throat exposed, and licked her lips. She felt the need to kiss him there. Nesta wanted to bite him right there on that sensitive spot, to make him moan as she knew he would.
Cassian’s eyes were bright when they met Nesta’s stare. “Kind of seems like you do, Nes.”
“Cauldron, you’re so full of yourself.” Nesta snapped her book shut, looked away from him. She clenched her thighs together and tried to ignore the ache building deep within her.
Cassian ignored the insult.
“C’mere, Nes.” Pat, pat, on the sofa. “Sit with me.”
Nesta cut him a glare. She was madder with herself than Cassian, more upset with her body and how it reacted to his deviant behavior. Yet, Nesta refused to feel shame as she rose from the couch, head held high and chin jutted outward.
Excitement sparkled in Cassian’s eyes as Nesta tossed her book to the side and slunk towards him. His hands kept moving.
“I don’t know,” Nesta cooed, sinking to her knees before him. “It looks like you have things well under control.”
She didn’t allow herself to second-guess her decision; she sunk her teeth into the sensitive skin of his thigh. Cassian choked on a strained laugh, torn between amusement and arousal, and he swore loudly as Nesta bit down harder in the same place once more. Cassian’s hips jerked upward into his hand in reaction.
It was Nesta’s turn to laugh. She flashed him an innocent smile, looking at him from under her lashes. “Is there something wrong?”
“Nope.” The strain in Cassian’s voice filled Nesta with pride. “Everything’s great.”
Nesta smiled. She pressed a kiss over the red mark left behind by her teeth. There was a certain thrill that Nesta found in marking Cassian—in being marked, too. She liked the brief, sharp pain of a lovebite, and Cassian did, as well. He always melted into a puddle when Nesta took her time with him, carefully leaving a mark or two.
A long pause followed as they watched one another. Cassian tried to hide how his muscles trembled in anticipation, but he failed as Nesta’s breath tickled his skin, just shy of where he liked it best.
Her laughter was husky to her own ears. “Yes?”
“Watch me,” Cassian panted. His hand slid down the length of him. Back up.
Nesta raised one brow.
“Sit there—” Cassian’s thumb ran along the slit of his cock, and he groaned, forgetting his words. His eyes fell closed. “—and watch me as I touch myself.”
It was a paltry attempt at dominance, to regain his footing in this precarious situation, but it was enough to fill Nesta’s body with heat. Cassian opened his eyes and met her gaze. Nesta chewed on her lip, made a show of considering his request. Cassian’s hand froze at the base of his cock, refusing to move until Nesta gave him the slightest of nods—her permission to continue this new game of his.
Cassian worked himself hard, and Nesta made herself comfortable, resting a cheek against the inside of his knee as she watched. His heavy-lidded gaze and the sight of his long, thick fingers wrapped around himself made Nesta’s pulse race. She wanted those fingers inside of her, pushing and pulling just right until Nesta was coming around them.
Nesta blinked those thoughts away, ignoring the throbbing between her legs in favor of teasing Cassian. “You’ve thought about this before,” she said. “Haven’t you?”
She pressed another kiss to the inside of his knee, luring Cassian’s attention there.
Pupils blown wide, he swallowed. “Yeah.”
“Do you like having me watch you like this?” Nesta asked. She dragged a finger across his inner thigh, causing the muscle there to tense. “Do you like having me on your knees in front of you? Watching as you get yourself off?”
Cassian jerked his head. An awkward nod.
Nesta ran her palms up the tops of his thighs, savoring how his coarse hair felt under her fingers. Cassian bit back another moan. It was all the encouragement Nesta needed to do it again; she scratched her nails down his legs. Cassian groaned louder.
Nesta laughed, but the sound was breathless. She was having a hard time exuding her usual self-confidence.
Apparently, Nesta was kind of into this, too.
“Yeah. I do,” Cassian rasped at last. “I like the view.”
“Me, too,” Nesta told him with a smile.
In fact, Nesta was tempted to slide a hand into her own leggings, but another idea came to mind, triggered by his words. Nesta pulled her hands away, smiling at how Cassian whimpered at the loss of her touch.
Nesta tugged off the ugly sweater and revealed the bralette she wore underneath. It was a sorry excuse for an undergarment, barely providing any kind of support for Nesta’s ample chest, but it was incredibly comfortable. For Nesta, that was the most important thing.
Cassian’s eyes dropped to her boobs. Nesta grinned. “How about now?”
“It’s okay.” Cassian’s laugh was strained. “Fuck, yeah. It’s way better than okay.” Nesta’s eyes caught on how his grip tightened around himself. He growled, “C’mere.”
Nesta laughed at him and rose to her knees, rubbing her palms up and down his thighs. “Bossy.”
“Fuck!” Cassian tilted his head towards the heavens. “You’re so damn sexy, Nesta.”
Nesta looked away from Cassian’s lap, expecting to find his gaze trained on her cleavage. She was surprised to find him watching her face instead. Her cheeks grew hot. Nesta loosed a breath.
“Don’t forget your balls, baby,” she ordered, attempting to gather herself and regain some control. Her voice is hoarse. Aroused. “I know how much you like it when I play with them.”
Another swear fell from Cassian. “You do know how I like it, don’t you, Sweetheart?”
Nesta hummed a confirmation and cupped her breasts, pushing them together for Cassian. He moaned, approving of the view; his stroking began to increase. Cassian watched, breathing heavily, as Nesta played with her chest. He growled as she ran her thumbs over her nipples, rubbing them through the fabric of her bra. Nesta let her gaze dance back and forth between Cassian’s flushed face and his swollen, hard cock. She dragged her teeth across her lip, pinched her own nipple, and gasped.
“That’s a good girl,” Cassian purred. “Fuck. I love your fucking tits.”
“Yeah?” Nesta was breathless. She pressed the mounds of flesh together and then upward. “Do you wanna fuck ‘em?”
Cassian’s brow rose. “Yeah? You’d let me do that, Sweetheart?”
Nesta nodded; she was excited. This would be something new for them, something interesting, and Nesta was more than ready for Cassian to abandon his game of playing gentle and sweet with her. Nesta was ready for a change.
“Wait,” Cassian said when Nesta started to remove her bra. She paused. “Leave that on.”
“Yeah?” Nesta didn’t fight the smirk. It figured that he’d make such a request.
Cassian groaned in response, and his fingers tightened around his cock. “Didn’t I tell you that I liked the view?”
Nesta hummed. She shifted closer to him, making space for herself between Cassian’s thighs. Her fingers hovered over his cock, and she asked, “May I?”
“Fuck.” Cassian released himself. “Yeah. Totally.”
Nesta flashed him a coy smile and wrapped her fingers around him. Cassian groaned the second her skin touched him, and he watched attentively as Nesta lowered her lips towards his cock. As the heat of him entered her mouth, Cassian’s hips jerked suddenly. He swore again.
Nesta leaned back. It was a struggle for her to contain her laughter. “Well, we won’t get very far like that, will we?”
Cassian’s face told her that he didn’t see the humor. He frowned. “I thought that I was going to fuck your tits.”
“In a second.” Nesta rolled her eyes at Cassian’s pout.
Nesta began to work Cassian. She gathered the saliva in her mouth and spat on his cock. It was a dirty move, but Cassian’s answering groan was deep and low. Like he’d said earlier, Nesta knew what Cassian liked.
Before he could protest a second time, Nesta wrapped her lips around Cassian’s cock. She took her time, working him slowly with her mouth until she was satisfied. There was very little as unpleasant as the chaffing feeling of dry skin rubbing together. Cassian didn’t seem to mind, though, even if he had complained before.
“I love that mouth of yours,” he groaned.
That was no secret. Cassian really enjoyed having his cock in Nesta’s mouth, but she thought it was time to find out if he liked her breasts better.
Nesta pulled away, sucking Cassian’s cock as she went. She stroked him, taking a moment to catch her breath; Cassian’s own chest moved quickly. It made her feel proud; Nesta liked seeing the effect she could have on him. Cassian didn’t let his guard down very often.
“Well?” Nesta pressed her breasts together, emphasizing them in her bra. The thing was never going to survive this, but she thought it’d be worth the loss. “We don’t have all night, do we?”
Cassian stared at her, stunned, but he quickly saw through that haughty attitude of Nesta’s. He barked a laugh, and a smile tugged at his lips.
“Bossy,” he said, echoing Nesta.
She rolled her eyes at him, but Nesta’s pulse quickened as Cassian sat upright, adjusting his position. He caught her by the chin without warning and dragged Nesta in for a dirty kiss; she returned it eagerly.
“You’re always so good to me.” Cassian’s dark eyes dropped to Nesta’s chest, and she caught herself circling her nipples with her fingers as he watched. “My Sweetheart.”
Cassian wasted little time. His hand jerked the length of his cock once, and then Cassian guided himself towards Nesta’s ample cleavage. Both of them moaned as his cock slide underneath the elastic of her bra and in-between Nesta’s boobs. That surprised Nesta; she hadn’t expected that to feel so good. Not for her.
“Cauldron.” Cassian lifted his hips, slow and experimental. “I fucking love your tits, Nesta.”
“Really?” Nesta quipped. “I hadn’t noticed.”
Her attempt at snark failed when Nesta moaned suddenly, turned on by the feel of his hot, hard cock pressed against her chest. Cassian laughed at her, but the sound soon turned into a groan.
He reached for her breasts, asked, “May I?”
Nesta nodded and allowed Cassian to cup her breasts. His palms were large, large enough to nearly fully encompass her breasts. The rough pads of his fingers against the delicate skin of her chest made her moan again.
Cassian’s cock moved faster. She watched as the swollen, red tip of his cock appeared at the tops of her breasts and then disappeared; the sight was enough to make her clench her thighs together. It was a feeble attempt to soothe the ache that was building inside of her.
“Fuck.” Cassian’s eyes were glued to his cock between her tits. “Nesta.”
“You can squeeze harder,” Nesta rasped, her breathing uneven.
Cassian met her gaze. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I don’t mind,” Nesta said, desperate for Cassian to do as she’d asked of him. She craved the friction—and that little bit of delicious pain—as much as she knew Cassian did. “I… I like it.”
“Fuck!” Cassian’s hips stuttered, but he did as Nesta asked. Her moan was loud as his big hands pressed harder against her chest, and she whimpered when one of his thumbs teased roughly against her peaked nipple.
“Always so good to me,” Cassian whispered as he fucked her breasts. Nesta could tell that Cassian was no longer aware of how he rambled, but she wouldn’t hold it against him. Nesta sometimes got carried away in the heat of the moment, too.
And the sight of Cassian’s cock between her breasts was very, very hot.
“Don’t deserve it. You.” Cassian’s hips moved with abandon. “Oh, Sweetheart.”
Nesta rubbed at Cassian’s thighs as he moved. With him in control, there wasn’t much else for Nesta to do. She watched Cassian, savoring the look on his face. The ache within her grew stronger and stronger as Nesta listened to Cassian’s chatter. His groans of praise.
Opening her mouth, Nesta bent her neck downward, attempting to catch the head of Cassian’s cock with her mouth. She wanted a taste of him, and Cassian didn’t mind if the way he groaned was any indication.
The sounds that fell from his lips made Nesta clench her thighs together tightly. She slid a hand towards the waistband of her leggings, underneath them. Cassian was too distracted to notice what Nesta was doing; she knew he’d stop her if he did.
Nesta’s fingers slipped between her legs, rubbing away the ache she felt. Cassian’s cock continued to brush against her lips and tongue, and Nesta hummed at the taste of him. It was a surprise at first, but Nesta rather liked when Cassian took charge like this. But only in the bedroom.
Cassian remained preoccupied. He yanked her face towards his to kiss her roughly, and Nesta moaned into his mouth. She quickened the pace of her fingers.
“Fuck!” Cassian had noticed at last what Nesta was up to. “Are you—“
He cut off with a groan. Cassian’s cock began to throb between her breasts, and Nesta moaned, knowing that meant he was nearly there. It was almost enough to have Nesta coming undone, as well. Almost.
“Your mouth, Nes,” Cassian said and cupped the back of her head. Her eyes shot to his face, the urgency there. “Nesta, gimme your mouth.”
She complied, figuring out what it was that he wanted. Nesta leaned forward and allowed Cassian to fuck between her breasts and into her mouth again. She moaned around him, pressing harder against her clit.
“Sweetheart, I’m gonna—“
Cassian growled as he spilled himself into Nesta’s mouth. At the angle, she struggled to take all of him, but she swallowed what she could. The rest landed against her skin, something equally as sexy as his coming in her mouth.
“Shit.” Cassian panted. “C’mere.”
Suddenly, Nesta’s face was in Cassian’s hands, and before she knew what was happening, his lips crashed messily into hers as he chased the taste of himself in her mouth. Nesta keened and kissed him back eagerly, one hand in his hair and the other in her leggings.
“Come for me, Nes.” Cassian trailed his lips down her neck and towards her breasts. "Sweetheart."
Nesta moaned. She rocked her hips against her hand as Cassian kissed her body. Nesta was close, and the feel of his lips on her and the thought of Cassian tasting himself on her skin was enough to push her over the edge.
"Oh," Nesta gasped, hips jerking. "Cass—"
Their mouths crashed together. Cassian lifted Nesta into his lap without difficulty, and Nesta pressed her face into the crook of his neck as she caught her breath.
Cassian smoothed back her hair, held Nesta as she came down. When she removed her hand from her pants, Cassian caught it and lifted her fingers to his mouth.
Nesta moaned as Cassian sucked her fingers clean. She kissed him and tangled her fingers into his hair; Cassian groaned into her mouth, pulling her closer to his body.
“Fuck.” Cassian peppered her lips with kisses. “You’re so fucking perfect.”
Prompts: Watch me & You've thought about this, haven't you?
Friendly reminder that I will no longer be doing tags. Please follow @noodlecatfics or my AO3 (link above) for updates. You could also just check this blog from time to time. I’ll use “fine print au” for all updates going forward.
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I wrote this fic for nessian month, and some of you asked for a part two..
There you go, 4k of nessian smut.
Big, big thanks to @julemmaes for being my beta reader 🌼💛
“And maybe one day it will be my turn to play with your tight little ass.”
Cassian hadn’t been able to think about anything else for a week. The way Nesta’s breath had caught when he’d said those words to her, how her hand had tightened on his shoulder, nails leaving little crescent moons on his skin. Still, her only answer had been a whispered “maybe,” so Cassian had never talked about it again, giving her time to think about it.
In the meantime, he tried to focus on other things, like training the priestesses. Over the past two years, more and more women had started training. Some of them wanted to join the newly reborn Valkyrie army, others were simply there to learn how to defend themselves. He was really proud of the work they were doing and even prouder of Nesta, who had recently become a teacher herself. Every morning she donned her leathers and entered the training ring, a look of determination on her beautiful face. Cauldron, those leathers. Cassian thought he had gotten used to seeing Nesta wear pants by now, but every day he was proved wrong. The sight of her sinful body in those tight-fitting clothes did things to him, especially when she accidentally dropped her sword on the floor and bent over to pick it up, a wickedly sexy smirk playing across her lips.
Even now, as Cassian was sitting at his desk doing some paperwork, he couldn’t help but picturing Nesta bent over the wooden surface, her gorgeous ass on display as he slid his thick length in and out of her tight back entrance. He’d take his sweet time with her, showing her exactly what she had missed all these years. He’d –
Oh. The subject of his thoughts was standing in the doorway, looking as breathtaking as ever. Nesta was clad in a simple lilac nightgown, her hair tied back in a braid. Beautiful.
“It’s late”, she observed as she padded towards him. She sat on his lap, facing the desk, and the position had her clothed backside rest just above his cock. Nesta’s addicting jasmine and vanilla scent washed over him, and if Cassian hadn’t been hard before, he definitely was now. It was always like this, her mere presence causing his body to react. Suddenly his clothes felt like a prison, and he longed to take them off and press his naked body to hers, feel the smoothness of her skin under his calloused palms and hear all the sweet sounds she would make as he pleasured her in every way he could.
Nesta leaned forward to pick up the papers scattered onto the desk, and the movement had her ass brush against his hardness. Cassian sucked in a breath, and Nesta’s hand stopped mid-air.
"There’s either something really exciting about these reports or you were distracted, Commander,” she said. Cassian could practically feel her smirk.
Cassian tugged at her braid, forcing her to lean back against his chest, and placed a possessive hand on her upper thigh. “Your presence is very distracting, my beautiful wife”, he said against the skin of her neck.
“Even if I hadn’t been able to smell your arousal from the other room, I could still feel it through the bond, my handsome husband,” she replied as her body relaxed against his. “What were you thinking about?”
Cassian moved his hands up her body and cupped her plump breasts, and he bit back a groan when Nesta started grinding into him. He decided to tell her the truth. “I was thinking”, he murmured as his fingers circled her nipples over the fabric of the nightgown, “about how good you would look with my cock buried in your tight little ass.”
Silence. Cassian stilled, and for a moment he thought he had gone too far. He opened his mouth to say something, but then he smelled it. The heady scent of her arousal. He smiled. “Would you like that, sweetheart?" He whispered in her ear as he rolled her nipples between his thumb and forefinger.
She released a needy whimper, lower lip caught between her teeth.
“I need to hear you say it, Nes. If you don’t-“
“Yes”, she breathed as she arched her back, pushing her breasts towards his palms.
Thank the Mother. Cassian licked the shell of Nesta’s ear and kneaded her breasts in his big hands, reveling in her soft moans. “Hm. I need to get you ready for me,” he said as his hands slid down her body, resting on her thighs.
“I am ready,” she replied breathlessly, and Cassian laughed. “No baby, you’re not,” he said. “Not yet.”
Nesta made to protest, but Cassian used his foot to spread her legs and dragged a finger over her underwear. Fuck, she was soaked.
“Cassian, please,” she whined as he kept touching her, his movements slow and deliberate. She tried moving her hips to get the friction she so desperately needed, but Cassian’s other hand kept her in place. He pressed his thumb on her clit and listened to Nesta’s labored breathing as she struggled to keep her composure. When it was clear she couldn’t take it anymore, he released her hips and maneuvered her so that she was standing between his legs, facing him. He let his eyes roam over her body, from her impossibly piercing eyes to the curve of her waist. Her cheeks were flushed, and one strap of her nightgown had slipped down her shoulder, exposing a bit of her cleavage to his lustful gaze. Cauldron, she looked good enough to eat. And he would do that. Later.
“Are you done staring?” she asked, tilting her head to the side. “Looks won’t get me off.”
Cassian moved then, and in a smooth motion he had her bent over the desk, panties pooled at her feet and nightgown pushed up to expose her ass. He hovered over her, mouth ghosting over her ear. “That wasn’t very nice, Nes,” he groaned. “You know what happens when you don’t behave.” And then his hand slapped her ass. Hard.
Nesta sucked in a breath, hands gripping the edge of the desk, and he spanked her again. Cassian knew she usually loved it when he was rough with her, and this time was no different. By the fourth time his palm came down on her ass, Nesta was moaning loudly, and he decided to take pity on her. Ignoring his aching cock that strained against his pants, begging to be buried inside her tight heat, he dragged two fingers through her dripping folds. He collected some of her sticky wetness and smeared it across her back entrance, making her moan. Fuck, she was so wet that he didn’t even need lube to rub circles around her fluttering hole. But she was not ready yet, and truth to be told, he wanted to drag this out a bit more. He placed a kiss on the back of her neck and sat back on the chair, popping open the button of his pants to release some of the pressure.
Nesta straightened, turning around to face him. “Why did you stop?”, she asked.
He didn’t answer, letting her figure out what he wanted. She eyed his unbuttoned pants and reached for the zipper, but Cassian stopped her. The air around them was buzzing with electricity and permeated with the scent of their arousal. The way Nesta was looking at him made Cassian feel like he was on fire, and he was more than happy to burn. He watched her eyes lit up with the realization of what he wanted and growled when Nesta slid a hand between her legs, touching herself in front of him. “Good girl,” he groaned. “Make yourself come.”
Since she was still wearing her nightgown, he couldn’t see what her fingers were doing, but he had watched Nesta pleasure herself in front of him enough times by now to know exactly how she did it. It was one of their kinks, watching each other as they touched themselves. And Cauldron damn him, the way Nesta’s lips parted as she threw her head back, exposing the column of her throat, had him pull his member free and wrap a hand around it. As if sensing his movement, Nesta’s head shot up, blue-grey eyes locking onto his. Breathtaking.
“Cass,” she moaned, and he couldn’t wait any longer to taste the sweetness between her legs. He dropped to his knees, pushing her hand away and dragging his tongue up her centre, groaning against her dripping folds. He put one of her feet on his shoulder, and she braced her hands on the desk behind her, closing her eyes. Considering everything they had done on his desk, Cassian was honestly pleased with himself for getting any work done every time he was near it. But then again, they had done things pretty much everywhere in the House. Cassian feasted on Nesta’s sweetness, sucking her clit between his lips, flicking it with his tongue, curling two fingers inside her as he drew circles around her bundle of nerves.
“I- I’m close,” she panted.
Cassian knew how to make her fall over the edge. As he devoured her, one of his fingers started playing with her tight back entrance until her muscles relaxed and he could slide the tip inside.
“Cassian, oh my god, yes,” she cried out, hips bucking against his face as he circled her clit with his tongue just as he started pumping his finger inside her hole.
He growled against her centre, tongue hitting a deep spot that had Nesta moan loudly.
“Gods, I love your pretty little cunt,” he groaned as he sucked her clit into his mouth. Her taste was addicting, and he was greedy for it. Cassian had made a point to eat Nesta out almost every day, and it was his favorite way to wake her up in the morning. Usually by the time she came on his tongue they were late for training and he was left with a hard, aching cock he had to take care of by himself, but as long as Nesta had climaxed at least once he didn’t mind.
Cassian pushed a second finger inside her and curled his digits in a come hither motion while his tongue flicked her bundle of nerves, and Nesta shattered, throwing her head back in a silent scream. He lapped up everything she gave him, not stopping until she pushed his head away from her sensitive core. Yes, watching Nesta Archeron lose control was definitely a religious experience.
Cassian waited for her to catch her breath, lowering the foot he had placed on his shoulder to the floor. He drank in the sight of her stunning face and sweet, sinful body made for him to worship.
“That was- wow,“ she panted, pushing back a few strands of hair that had escaped her braid.
“Speechless, Nes?” he teased.
“Don’t be cocky”, she said as she kicked him, a smile playing on her lips.
They looked at each other, Cassian still on the floor. He thought it fitting to kneel in front of the goddess that was his mate. He didn’t care if she was Lady Death or not, didn’t care about how much power the Mother had left her. For him, his wife was a goddess, powers or not. And he would worship her like one. He kissed her stomach and caressed the back of her thighs until his hands reached her ass. Nesta’s eyes became impossibly silver, and Cassian knew his own gaze was darkening.
“Wait for me in the bedroom, sweetheart. And lose the nightgown."
Cassian admired Nesta’s sinful curves as she walked away, discarding her nightgown in the doorway. He couldn’t help but feel smug when he noticed her legs were shaking. Then he gathered all he needed to make this night memorable and joined her in their bedroom.
Nesta was standing near the window, completely naked. Te urge to press her against the glass and have his way with her made his skin prickle, but he resisted, the thought of what he had planned much more appealing. “Lay on the bed, face down”, he ordered.
She gave him a questioning look, but did as she was told. Cassian took off his clothes, then picked up the first item he had selected, a lavender-scented massage oil. He straddled Nesta’s thighs, careful not to put too much weight on her, then poured some product into his hands and set to work.
He started with her shoulders, letting his hands glide over her smooth skin and applying more pressure on where she needed it the most. He kneaded the muscles of her shoulders, sore from that morning’s training session, and was rewarded by a pleased hum. Nesta’s body was pliant under his calloused hands, her eyes closed and lips slightly parted. When his hands worked on a particularly good spot, she exhaled softly, lost in bliss. Cassian then switched to her legs, starting from the soles of her feet, and slowly making his way up her calves and thighs. He finally reached her inner thigh, and Nesta let out a needy whimper as his fingers ghosted over her centre. He could see the wetness glistening between her legs, smell the intensity of her desire.
He rubbed more oil between his palms and began rubbing circles on her ass cheeks, then kneaded and squeezed gently until her skin warmed to his touch. He placed his thumbs in the creases where her legs met her cheeks and glided his thumbs in small circles, pressing deeper and reveling in her soft moans. Gods, he wanted to eat her out again.
He freed her hair from the simple braid it was tied in. “Turn around.”
She did, and her gaze went to his lips in a silent invitation. Cassian could do nothing but oblige her, pressing his body on hers and claiming her mouth in a heated kiss, tongue caressing hers and teeth chewing on her lower lip. One of his hands went to her ass, kneading the plump flesh until Nesta tugged at his hair and moaned into his mouth. Cauldron, he wanted her so badly.
He dragged his mouth away from hers with a wet pop. “We can stop here if that’s what you want.” He meant it. As much as he craved more, he would not ask for what she wasn’t ready to give. “I can take you as I normally do. Or you can take me,” he added, smirking down at her. Her eyes told him she was remembering what they’d done the previous week. “We don’t-“
She silenced him with a kiss. “I want to try,” she said.
“You sure?” he asked.
He wasn’t expecting her to grab his cock, and groaned at the blissful sensation of her hand around him. “I want this, Cassian”, she whispered onto his lips. “I want you to fuck my ass.”
Fuck, just hearing those words from her made his cock twitch in anticipation. Cassian gave her one last kiss before maneuvering their bodies until they were both laying on their sides, in a spooning position that he knew from personal experience felt fantastic for both giver and receiver. As much as the thought of gripping her hips and thrust wildly into her while she was on all fours thrilled him, this position felt more intimate, it allowed him better access to her body, and it made him feel closer to her. This was how they had sex during lazy winter mornings when they were both a little sleepy and didn't want to get up just yet. He usually kissed her neck and drew circles on her clit with his thumb, and she whispered his name and fought to keep her eyes open while he worked her tight pussy. Right now he wanted that kind of intimacy, but with a lot more cursing and screaming each other's names in ecstasy.
As soon as she felt his hardness against her bottom, Nesta immediately started grinding against it, making it really hard for Cassian not to take her right then. He hissed and grabbed her throat in a possessive gesture, squeezing lightly. “Hold still, or I’m gonna have to punish you again”, he rasped against her ear. I need to play with you a little more before filling this gorgeous ass with my cum.”
Nesta moaned at his words, and Cassian lowered his hand from her throat and brought it between her legs, playing with her clit and slipping a finger inside her wet heat. “You’re so wet for me.”
“Cassian”, she keened when he added a second finger and then a third, curling them inside her as she rode his hand with abandon.
“That’s it Nes. Come on baby, give me another one”, he groaned against her neck, sucking and nipping at the sensitive skin. Nesta moaned as he hit a deep spot that drove her crazy each time. His throbbing cock was pressed against her ass, and he couldn’t stop his own hips from moving in search of friction, leaving a damp smear of pre-cum on her skin. Cassian felt her walls tighten around his fingers and knew she was already close to the edge. Good, he didn't think he could wait any longer to be inside her. She shattered with a strangled moan, and he nuzzled her neck as he waited for her to come down from her high.
Nesta turned her head towards him, lips a breath away from his. Cassian reached for the bottle of lube, and she watched intently as he layered his length with a generous amount of product. He moved slowly, waiting for her to stop him. She didn’t. He spread more liquid around her back entrance, her hole fluttering as he rubbed circles around it to make sure she was ready to take him. He settled behind her, ready. “Remember to breathe, Sweetheart.”
Nesta nodded, and Cassian thrust himself forward, entering her inch by inch.
Fuck. Fuck. She was so might meltingly tight that it was an effort not to come as soon as her walls clamped around him. He stilled to let her adjust to his size, kissing her sweetly behind the ear and trying his best not to spill inside her right then.
Once she relaxed around him, Cassian brought one of her legs forward, bending her knee and changing the angle of their hips, allowing his length to enter her more fully. Nesta moaned as her hand gripped the sheets. And then Cassian was moving, slowly at first, then faster.
“Cass,” she gasped out, and he cursed as she became impossibly tight around him. “Yeah? Am I making you feel good?” he ground out, thrusting into her with long, drawn-out strokes. Her answer was a loud moan that had his eyes roll in the back of his head. He kept his movements slow, building up both their pleasures.
“Harder,” she keened.
"Say please,” he said as he slowed his movements, hissing as her walls squeezed him in the most pleasurable way.
Nesta resisted all but ten seconds before giving in. “Cassian, please.”
He chuckled darkly and kissed her cheek. “So needy," he whispered in her ear, and then let go of his control, loosing himself in her and fucking her as he had always dreamed of doing.
Nesta had never imagined that she could feel so full. It hurt, but the slight pain made everything better, more intense. Gods, Cassian was so thick, and she could feel every inch of him as he filled her with deep, powerful strokes, moaning obscenities against her neck. His hand gripped her hip with bruising strength, and she hoped the bruises would remain for days just so she could look in the mirror every morning and think about this moment of pure bliss.
With every thrust of his hips, she pushed back slightly, taking him even deeper and gasping as all thick inches of him stretched her in the most pleasurable way. She didn’t have it in her to feel ashamed of the dirty moans that escaped her when he snapped his hips into hers with more force, giving her exactly what she wanted.
Cassian was whispering filthy praises in Illyrian against her skin, his voice even deeper and hotter, the words rolling naturally off his tongue. Nesta had started learning Illyrian a year ago, but Cassian didn’t know that. He was unaware that she could understand almost all the filthy things he was saying, and she could hardly wait for the day in which she’d repeat all those things back to him.
She felt her stomach coil and knew her orgasm would be like nothing she’d ever felt before. Needing an anchor, she reached behind her, finding purchase on Cassian’s neck and pulling at his hair, eliciting a groan from him. The wet sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, along with the one of their panting breaths. Every part of Cassian’s body was pressed against hers, his scent enveloping her as he held her tightly against him and worked a purple bruise on the skin of her neck. He suddenly changed the angle of his hips, picking up the pace, and if she thought it felt good before she was wrong because now all she knew was pleasure, exquisite, intoxicating, oh gods I’m going to pass out pleasure.
“Cassian,“ she moaned.
“Yeah, moan my name, sweetheart,” he groaned, licking the shell of her ear. “Come for me.”
Oh gods, she loved it when he talked dirty to her. Cassian reached between her legs and began fucking her with his fingers. Nesta’s eyes rolled in the back of her head as Cassian pumped his long, thick digits inside her, and her orgasm approached faster and faster. She couldn’t get enough air into her lungs, chest rising and falling rapidly as her pleasure built and built, her toes curling in anticipation. The sensation of being that stretched out was foreign but oh so good, and she moaned Cassian’s name as he timed the movements of his hips with the one of his fingers. When he thrust his hips forward, he pulled his digits almost all the way out and vice versa, alternating. When he sensed she was close, he changed pattern, pushing forward with his hips and fingers at the same time. He continued his maddening torture until she could barely stand it anymore, her body taught as a bowstring, ready to snap.
Cassian must have needed release as bad as she did. He pushed forward in a deep, powerful thrust, curled two fingers inside her and pressed on her clit at the same time, and Nesta exploded. She screamed as her climax tore through her, eyes rolling back in her head and walls spasming around the lengths that filled her. Fuck, she was going to pass out from sheer pleasure. Cassian came soon after her, hips twitching erratically as his hot release filled her. He bit her shoulder almost hard enough to draw blood, hand going back to her hip and holding her body flush to his as he emptied himself inside her.
The next thing she remembered was Cassian releasing her hip and easing himself out of her. Nesta sucked in a breath at the sudden feeling of emptiness. She felt completely boneless as Cassian delicately pushed a few damp strands of hair out of her face. The thought of getting up to clean the sticky wetness between her thighs seemed nearly impossible.
“You okay?” he murmured sweetly as he propped himself on one elbow and looked down at her.
Nesta rolled on her back and kept her eyes closed as she nodded, already about to drift off. She felt warm lips brush her forehead, then a rush of cold air hit her as Cassian got up from the bed, probably heading towards the bathroom. Since she didn't hear the tub being filled, she figured he wasn't running her a bath and waited for him to come back with a towel. She kept her eyes closed as his footsteps approached, too tired to do anything but lay there and let Cassian take care of everything.
He chuckled as he nudged her legs open. “You’re not going to help, are you?”, he asked.
“Mh, sleep," she mumbled. She felt Cassian wipe the warm, damp towel between her legs, wincing slightly when it brushed her still sensitive clit.
“Sorry,” he said. “I’ll kiss it better tomorrow.”
“Gods, you’re insatiable,” she murmured, blindly reaching for him. “C’mere.”
Cassian laid down next to her, molding his body around hers and kissing her temple. “Are you sure you’re okay, sweetheart?”, he asked, eyeing the bite mark he’d left on her shoulder earlier.
Nesta snuggled closer to him. “I’m fine, you worry too much.” She was bone tired, but the slight tension in Cassian’s muscles, a sign of his worry, kept her awake. She could practically hear the wheels spinning inside his head, and knew he was replaying their night over and over, trying to find the exact moment things had gone from rough to too much. Gathering her strength, Nesta opened her eyes and lifted her head from Cassian’s chest. “Cass, I’m okay. I-” She hesitated. Maybe it was because she’d been repressing her emotions for so long, or maybe she was just scared of being vulnerable, but even after all this time, opening herself up to someone was still hard for her. “You know, I’ve wanted to do this for a long, long time. With you, I mean. It’s always been you, Cassian. The things you and I do.. I’ve never wanted to do them with anyone else, not even when I used to sleep with a different person each night. With you I want to try everything, find out all the ways in which we can give each other pleasure. And you know why?” She made sure he was watching her before continuing. ” Because I trust you like I’ve never trusted anyone before. Because I know you would never hurt me. You always make me feel good, loved, and safe, and tonight was no different.“
Cassian’s hazel eyes furiously scanned her face, looking for any sign of distress. When he found none, he relaxed, tightening his arms around her body and encasing her in his warmth. Nesta placed her head back on his chest, closing her eyes. Cassian caressed her face, fingers following the slope of her nose, the curve of her cheekbones, the shell of her ear. His calloused skin drew loving patterns up and down her spine, tracing the outline of her tattoo. Not the one left by her bargain with the Cauldron and the Mother, but the Illyrian markings on the nape of her neck. A matching tattoo could be found on Cassian’s inner wrist, right over his pulse. “Everything, uh? I have so many ideas, Nes.”
Nesta was already drifting to sleep, lulled by the steady sound of Cassian’s heartbeat. The last things she heard before falling asleep were a few whispered words, followed by a feather-light kiss on her brow. “We have time. We have forever.”
Let me know if you want to be added/removed from the tag list
@sirendeepity @ladygabrielli1997 @moodymelanist @generalnesta @bookologist @swankii-art-teacher @evolving-dreamer @oversizedbats
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Christmas friendly reminder:
Because of their wings, the Illyrians are really top heavy so they must have some balance issues. Illyrians probably suck at ice-skating, pass it on.
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Uhhhh, can I get ummmmm, a Nessian 75 for the kiss prompt?
75. Kisses meant to distract the other person from whatever they were intently doing
When Nesta was reading, it was dangerous to disturb her. If a book was in her hands, you left her alone. Simple as that. Elain knew, Feyre knew, hell, even Rhys and Az knew not to bother her. But Cassian…somehow, despite everything, had never learned.
He never abided by this one, simple rule.
And he always paid for it.
The first time he interrupted her, it was to tell her a story.
“So today during training Rhys–”
Nesta held her book up. A warning, daring him to continue.
He didn’t get the message.
“So, Rhys was throwing these knives at me, right? And being the warrior I am, I dodged them all. But THEN–”
Cassian barely had time to dodge the book that went flying at his head.
The second time he interrupted her, it was to ask her a question.
She was on the couch, book in hand, intently reading each page.
“Hey, Nes, so for the wedding, what colors were you thinking?”
Nesta raised her eyes from the page and narrowed them at the Illyrian.
“I know, I know, you’re reading,” he said, putting his hands up, “but this is important.”
She kept staring.
“Nes, come on–”
Again, the book went flying, hitting him in the ribs.
“I didn’t deserve that!”
She cocked her head, as if to say, yes, you did.
Cassian opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again, opting to pick up her book and let her resume her reading.
Nesta smiled a bit. Smart choice.
The third time Cassian interrupted her, he got away with it.
She was reading her latest romance on the couch, the story just about consuming her. She was in another world, a realm of princes and princesses, of enemies to lovers, and didn’t even notice Cassian walking through the door.
“Hey Nes,” he said, but she didn’t reply. Didn’t even notice he was home.
Nesta didn’t notice him until he came up behind the couch, behind her, and started peppering kisses into her hair.
She jerked back, surprised by his touch as his arms wrapped around her. “What–Cassian?”
“Hi Nes,” he said as she lifted her head back, only to see Cassian kiss the top of her head again, then her forehead.
“Go away,” she said blandly.
“Nes,” he replied between kisses, moving to her cheek, then the side of her mouth, “I just want to say hi.”
“You’ve done as much. Now go away, I’m reading,” she said, and resumed her book, ignoring him and his kisses.
But Cassian just flung himself onto the couch, right next to Nesta, and kissed her cheek.
“Nesta,” he crooned in response, and kissed her again.
He moved from her lips–which she refused to open for him–to her chin, and down to her neck.
She let out a breathless gasp, and he moved further down her neck, his lips caressing her body as he moved from her neck, to her chest…
She put her book down.
And then she grabbed Cassian and flung herself on top of him, and she was kissing him. She pressed against the corner of his mouth, and then finally, she crushed her lips against his, and Cassian groaned, opening his mouth for her.
“Nes,” he breathed, his voice a caress on her skin.
She pulled him closer, tangling her hands through his hair. “Stop…talking,” she replied, and resumed kissing him, until she was exploring his body, her lips tracing the muscles on his arms, his chest. There wasn’t an area on his body she hadn’t kissed by the time they were done.
“Never distract me again,” she said to him, nestled in his arms on the couch.
Cassian only chuckled and flicked her nose.
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Embers & Light (Chapter 39, NSFW Nessian)
Notes: Well, over a year you've had to wait for these two to seal the deal... BUT NO LONGER. And because I'm thankful to you all for sticking with this story, I've granted you with over 16k of sinful naughtiness. I think it's safe to say this is NSFW but you guys have read my smut before, you know the drill.
Embers & Light has always very much been the alternative story to Habits, but I couldn’t help but write in some crossover moments here to highlight the differences in events--timeline is a fascinating thing! Lemme know if you spot the moments :)
Please let me know what you think :) Comment and kudos will make my day!
I won't be able to write much of August (wedding & mini-moon) but I'll be doing my best to get you guys something as soon as possible. Hopefully by the end of the month, anyways <3
Oh! And I got a bookstagram. Find me at bookships.and.fandoms (and bear with me, I cba to take pretty pics atm)
Cassian stared at the doorway and the staircase beyond it, his gaze fixed and unwavering. Nesta had slipped out of the living room to follow Feyre up the stairs over ten minutes ago and he was already consumed with the biting sort of worry that gnawed at your insides.
He wasn’t concerned about what Nesta might be discussing with Feyre—that was her business—but because he couldn’t help but fret when it came to Nesta’s wellbeing.
It was a myriad of concerns that trampled through his mind like a herd of cattle. Had she slept enough? Had she recovered from being caught in the crowds the day before? Was her conversation with Feyre going to have her take three steps back rather than one forward? Cassian had spied the book of fairytales she’d slipped into her bag. Had guessed what she’d intended to do with it.
And then there was the fact that Nesta had left the bed before he’d woken again. Cassian couldn’t help but feel disappointed that she’d not been there when he’d opened his eyes, especially after the night before.
But that was how it was with he and Nesta. When the sun dipped below the horizon, Cassian often felt as if they were on the right path; as if once the world shut its eyes, the pressure was off and their play could continue. But as soon as light bled back into the sky, things weren’t the same. They weren’t cold… but Cassian felt suspended in a limbo of flirtatious banter and respectful distance. Which was hard, when all Cassian wanted to do was be as close to her as possible: to hold her hand and wind a hand through her hair. To kiss her brow and mouth and sink his teeth into her neck—
Cassian’s jaw tightened. He wanted to do wicked things. He wanted to make her moan and shatter. Wanted to know how she felt wrapped around him. Wanted to see if she’d gasp awake as he pushed inside of her.
Their trip home was going to be a turning point. Or at the very least it would be a milestone—a hammered notch as they progressed towards something. Yet, Cassian wasn’t naive: he wasn’t expecting Nesta to fall into his arms and never leave. But he hoped that it might make Nesta see their connection—not the tie between them, but the chemistry that Cassian knew would forever exist even if the mating bond was severed.
From the very first moment his gaze had settled on the haughty, vicious sister Cassian had known. Had nearly been brought to his knees—the heart-stopping moment so powerful, it suspended time as he felt something turn inside of him, as if something that had lain dormant had finally snapped open an eye.
And because of that Cassian would willingly allow Nesta to forge the reigns when it came to whatever it was between them. He could go slow. He would take the chance that Nesta might grow to accept him, even as he was seized by the terror that she might grow bored and draw a line under things before he had the chance to prove that he was worthy.
Cassian took a deep, steadying breath that made his ribcage heave. Thought of the lullaby that sat in his room at the House. Used that to ground himself and banish the painful thoughts.
Nesta had cared enough to gift him a piece of his past that nobody else had ever gone to the effort to find for him. And that was… everything. It was everything to him.
“I can hear the worry grinding gears in your brain.”
Rhys was standing where Mor had been a few moments earlier, his hands tucked into the pockets of his trousers, his eyebrows raised. Cassian hadn’t noticed Mor slip away. Couldn’t even recall what she'd been saying to him. Had he ignored her? He didn’t know. Didn’t really care. They all knew he was head over heels when it came to Nesta anyway.
Cassian blinked. It took him a moment to process Rhys’s words, but his body finally caught up. An instinctive grin tugged at the corners of his mouth and he commanded his eyes to sparkle, even though it was all fake. “I was under the impression you didn’t think I had one.”
Rhys didn’t chuckle or retort with something dry. Sometimes his brother allowed him to indulge in his self-deprecating behaviour, but it didn’t seem like today was one of those days. Instead, he cut to the chase. “They’re fine.”
Cassian bristled. Didn’t bother to pretend his mind wasn't solely on what was happening upstairs. “Feyre’s speaking with you now?”
Nesta would hate that. Would know if her sister was communicating to her mate whilst they were talking.
His brother’s laugh was as smooth as velvet. “No, she locked me out. It’s a habit she’s started recently and it’s usually coupled with the mental finger.”
This time, Cassian’s smile was genuine, as was the chuckle that chased it. “Feisty.”
“You have no idea,” Rhys responded with a wink.
Mor, who had breezed back to Cassian’s side with a new cup of coffee, rolled her eyes. “We do actually, you two are like rabbits.”
“We’re mated,” Rhys replied with a wave of his hand. “It’s to be expected.”
Mor lifted her eyes to the ceiling. “Cauldron, I need to bed someone rather than hearing about my cousin’s exploits with my best friend.”
“Head to Rita’s and find yourself a pretty fae,” Cassian drawled, tugging Mor into a one armed hug.
“Mmm,” Mor hummed, but she chewed on her lip again. Glanced nervously at Azriel, who was in deep conversation with Elain. His shadows were tucked in neatly to his frame rather than trailing, ever-moving and loose around his body, but Cassian knew he could hear them.
Cassian dropped a friendly kiss to Mor’s head before he let her go. Tussled her hair, grinning mischievously when she squawked in disapproval.
As if sensing that his cousin wanted a change of subject, Rhys looked square at Cassian. “Azriel will come over later to update you on the latest movements.”
Cassian sobered as if someone had poured icy water down his back. “Not later,” Cassian corrected firmly.
Tomorrow. No the day after that. Cassian couldn’t guarantee that he’d be able to stop once he’d had his first proper taste of Nesta.
But of course they couldn’t do that—wouldn’t. The situation in Illyria was too dire for them to be so selfish as to lock themselves away for days.
It didn’t mean Cassian didn’t want to, though.
“You’ve got plans?” Rhys asked lightly and Mor froze.
You’ve got no idea, Cassian thought. But then realised his brother knew. Of course he did. Surely everyone in this room knew how desperate he was to get back to Illyria. To have Nesta in his bed again, writhing and moaning, their bodies slick with sweat as they moved in unison.
Clenching his jaw, Cassian grounded that desire between his teeth, until it was nothing but broken, delicious shards that scraped down his throat. His blood coiled. “Yes. Maybe.”
If she doesn’t change her mind.
“It has to be tomorrow, Cass.”
Biting back a sigh, Cassian nodded. “I know. Come at noon. I suppose I’ll be camped out in Illyria for the foreseeable future.” He cast a stern look at Mor. “Send me letters.”
“You have a housemate,” Rhys reminded him. “You’re not going to be entirely alone.”
Mor grinned slyly. “A very beautiful housemate.”
Cassian was more than aware of that.
He grunted and unable to stop himself, he voiced the fear that always niggled away at the back of his mind. “For now.”
But Rhys just loosed another manicured shrug, that was at odds with the ground-breaking revelation that followed it. “For a long while. Nesta has expressed her desire to remain in Illyria long-term despite the discontent. Assuming you don’t mind sharing your bungalow.”
It felt as if an iron band of hope was clamped around Cassian’s chest. He stared at his brother. Tried not to blink. Crossed his arms firmly over his chest, protecting his heart. “And you know this how?”
“Nesta spoke with me. We have arrived at a truce, of sorts.”
That must have been what they’d spoken about yesterday on the balcony. He wanted to know more—everything—but Cassian would not press Rhys. If Nesta wanted to tell him, she would. He had to respect that.
So, he bit back his curiosity and grumbled, “About time.”
Rhys clapped his hand on Cassian’s back, but there was something wary in his expression, as if there was something he wanted to say but wouldn’t. Finally, he said, “Patience is a virtue, brother.”
“I’m not the patient sort.”
“You are when it counts,” Rhys countered, and Cassian didn’t say anything because they both knew what he was referring to. Rhys had been the first to know. Had witnessed Cassian in a tangled web of despair and longing and unwanted visions. His brother had immediately put two and two together. Because he’d been there, too. Knew what it was to want someone you thought you couldn’t have. To hope that someone might finally grow to see you in colour rather than in black and white.
Cassian cast another look towards the empty doorway and the quiet hallway beyond it.
A shiver of anticipation ran through him. It was time for them to go home.
In the end, Cassian folded to his worry and had Elain fetch Nesta from upstairs. It was time to go, he’d insisted, even though there was no true reason as to why they needed to leave quite so quickly.
“No guesses required to identify why you want to head back to Illyria,” Mor muttered out the side of her mouth, as the creak of the stairs a few flights above heralded the sisters return. Cassian jabbed his elbow into his friend’s ribs and Mor yelped through her grin, even as she had to sidestep, the nudge throwing her off balance. “What? It’s all over your face. You think I can’t read you after five hundred years?”
“Don’t announce it to the room,” Cassian muttered darkly under his breath, “and you won’t find yourself torn to pieces.”
Mor briefly bumped against his arm, the jostle affectionate. Unfazed by his threat, she glanced sideways at him with rich chocolate eyes. “I won’t. We just want you to be happy, you know.”
Cassian’s mouth flattened into a thin line. “Now isn’t the time for a lecture about finding a more suitable mate.”
The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. He hadn’t meant for it to happen, hadn’t meant to voice what he’d kept inside for so long.
Mor’s eyes widened, but she wound her arms around his waist. Cassian allowed her to tuck herself under his arm. His friend scented of citrus and cinnamon. When she craned her neck to look up at him, her expression was glowing with sincerity and Cassian realised that she hadn’t been insinuating that Nesta wasn’t right for him at all. “We’re all cheering you on from the sidelines, Cass, I promise.”
The muscle in Cassian’s jaw flexed. He looked away from her, towards the doorway again, unable to help himself. “Don’t say anything.”
She tightened her grip on his waist. “I won’t. I promise.”
“She doesn’t want it.”
Mor untangled herself from him. Shook her head in disagreement. “She does. She just isn’t ready to admit it yet.”
They both fell quiet as Nesta walked through the door with Elain and Feyre. The first thing Cassian noticed was that she scented of water and salt—tears.
Heart pattering with concern, Cassian quickly scanned Nesta’s expression and body language, searching for clues. But Nesta remained close to her sisters rather than apart, her fingers snagged in Feyre’s, her expression not in tatters but smooth and calm, like still waters.
“Ready to go?” Mor chirped from beside him. “I can winnow you back when Sala arrives.”
Nesta’s grey-blue eyes slid to Mor. “I called her on my way down.”
“Then you have time to see the snowdrops you gave me before you leave,” Elain responded eagerly, tugging at Nesta’s arm. “The cuttings took well to the soil. I planted them beneath the shade of the birch trees near the river.”
Cassian watched Nesta disappear into the garden. Surveyed the way a strand of golden brown hair that had escaped her loose braid floated on the breeze, as if it was part of the element rather than separate, as Elain bent to show her the snowdrops.
Yet despite the clear ease to Nesta’s movements, Cassian couldn’t help but ask Feyre whether everything was okay when she came over to hug him goodbye.
“We’re fine,” Feyre assured him, as together they watched Mor tentatively sit beside Azriel on the couch. For once the Shadowsinger’s shadows didn’t lighten, but Azriel still turned to her, drawn by some magnetism as she began to speak with him.
Slim fingers closed around his. Squeezed. “Thank you for fetching the book of fairytales for Nesta.”
The strand of ebony hair that had wrangled free of Cassian’s hair tie tickled the side of his forehead as he inclined his head. That had been a long time ago, when Nesta was a viper that he dared to poke with a stick, just so he could get a reaction. “Of course.”
“You travelled all that way on barely healed wings just to fetch a book.”
It wasn’t just a book, but Cassian knew Feyre understood that, so he only grunted, “Az took me most of the way. He waited to winnow me back.”
But Feyre’s eyes were burnished, as she asked, “Is there anything you won’t do for my sister?”
“It depends,” Cassian replied honestly. Because although he’d rather die than see Nesta hurt, Cassian wouldn’t hesitate to stand up to her when her fire was ill-wrought. And that’s what he liked about the both of them: if he was an ass Nesta told him straight, and he did the same for her. A grin slashed across his face. “Your sister has claws and teeth when she’s angry.”
It wasn’t long before Sala landed on her four large paws in the garden, prompting goodbyes. Mor winnowed Nesta and Sala, whilst Az’s scarred hand closed around Cassian’s arm.
Together, Cassian and his brother passed through realms of shadows and light and raging wings. Then Illyria was taking shape before Cassian bit by bit: there was the sting of winter on his cheeks, the crunch of snow beneath his feet, the scent of pine and untamed air. It felt like that wonderful first heave of your lungs after being starved from air. It alerted Cassian senses—woke him up.
Not bothering to say goodbye for the second time, Azriel bled straight back into shadow, but Mor raised a hand in a parting wave from where she stood beside Nesta and Sala. Her long golden hair caught on the breeze. It tussled behind her like its own puff of wind, before she vanished into nothing.
When Cassian’s eyes snapped to Nesta, he found her standing with her eyes closed, breathing in the wilderness of their surroundings. After a few beats, Sala jumped onto her hind legs, climbing up Nesta’s body with her snow-crusted paws to knock her head impatiently against Nesta’s.
A breath of laughter clouded in front of her as Nesta ruffled Sala’s ears. She murmured something Cassian couldn't identify in the manticore’s ear, before Sala dropped onto all fours and padded through the snow in the direction of the main camp.
Cassian watched the manticore go. He suspected Sala was going to seek out the widows camp and check everything was in order. It was the kind of thing Nesta would fret about—that whilst she was warm and fed, others might not be extended the same courtesy.
Or, the dark part of his mind whispered, she wants Sala out of the house.
You can fuck me wherever you like in the bungalow, Cassian.
The many needles of thrill pierced through him just as Nesta met his stare from across the snow. Suddenly, Cassian didn’t know what to say. His tongue felt swollen and thick in his mouth, words suddenly as viscous as tar. The atmosphere had altered—the aura surrounding them despite the distance suddenly heavy with promise: a change that pointed to something new.
The siphons on the back of Cassian’s hands glowed in anticipation. Nesta merely raised an eyebrow at him. Turned. Walked towards the house just as he caught the thick scent of jasmine and vanilla on the wind.
Cassian’s nostrils flared as it wound around him; invisible ropes of arousal. And then he was moving, following Nesta’s footprints.
His friends had winnowed them to the back of the house, halfway between the small stone outhouse and the backdoor. They weren’t far from the bungalow, but it felt like miles as Cassian stomped noisily after Nesta, his boots compacting the snow as if they were grinding shards of glass into powder.
When Cassian drew up behind Nesta, she already had a hand half-raised towards the door. Even though he wasn’t touching her, she was a whirlpool of warmth. It sucked him in, begging him to line his torso against her back, so when she cursed, realising she hadn’t taken her gloves off, Cassian didn’t hesitate to reach over her shoulder and rest his palm against the wood, encasing her.
The touch of his bare skin—or Nesta’s—was the key to the magical lock. A thunk sounded as the bolt released but Cassian didn’t push open the door—was too preoccupied with the female before him—who had twisted to stare up at him.
As soon as their gazes snagged, history began to knit together in a rush of thread, until it was a tangible, living thing. Because this moment had been written in the stars as soon as Cassian had seen Nesta in her amethyst dress in the human realm; her hair wielded into a mighty crown, her expression haughty and defiant, yet burning with the potential of a life not yet lived. They’d denied that history, even as it waited patiently in the wings. It had watched as they danced around each other, fumbling and snarling their way to this very moment—
They moved in unison. Cassian’s head bowing just as Nesta reached upwards; her body bowing to his, her palms sliding across his jaw until they were around his neck. Their lips met with a force that rattled Cassian’s bones. This wasn't a brush of a kiss. This was immediate and awakening: Nesta tasted like life and breath, like destiny. And yet again, Cassian knew with startling clarity that they were meant for this, he and Nesta. They were meant for each other and nobody could tell him otherwise, including her.
A soft breath whooshed out of Nesta as her back hit the door, but then Cassian was pushing it open, guiding her inside in a whirlwind of noise and wreckage.
The scrape of wood on the flagstone tiles sounded as Nesta’s back knocked against the table before Cassian turned them, his wings grazing against cupboards and the cool walls. Items clattered and shattered, but Cassian used his wings to keep a check on his surroundings, the touch guiding him to the left-hand wall where he could press her against the wall and devour.
Because Cassian could not tear his mouth from Nesta’s. Couldn’t stop tasting her. Couldn’t stop craving the roll of her tongue and the sound of her guttural moans. It fuelled a fireball inside of him; it roared into life in the centre of his heart, before spreading throughout his limbs, rushing through his body until it settled deep in his groin, aching and burning—screaming for relief.
When they finally hit the wall, the thud of their bodies shook the cabinets and the porcelain within it. Without thinking, Cassian took the brunt of it, his hand flying to cup Nesta's lower back and head to purposefully shield her from the hurt.
Because he was coarse and rippling, galloping towards a primal sort of wilderness that Cassian wasn’t sure he could control.
If Nesta was ignorant to the fact or wholly aware Cassian didn’t know. All he knew was that her hands were scrabbling at his leather like dancing flames, tugging him closer.
When he pressed his body over hers, aligning every inch of her to every inch of him, she whined.
Cassian swallowed it. Slanted his mouth across hers. Tucked his wings in tight as every muscle in him tensed in anticipation.
Nesta tasted of chai and vanilla and embers with a destiny to roar.
Another strangled noise came from her throat as Cassian sank his hands deep into the hair at her scalp, coaxing strands free from her braid as his fingers threading through her hair, just as he had done the night prior when he’d coaxed her to sleep. But this wasn’t a soothing touch. This was a touch to startle every nerve ending to life.
Time began to bleed around them, but Cassian only registered the fluidity of the frantic dance they had not learnt. The way Nesta arched into him as his palm slid back to span her waist. The pant of her breath against his skin. His heaving chest. The way his wings began to spread again of their own volition, like a fan unfolding to reveal a secret pattern—as if they were controlled by nothing but the ache of his cock as it strained against the leather of his pants.
As if in acknowledgement that his body was no longer ruled by him, his hips slanted upwards of their own accord. It was a desperate bid to relieve the ache, and his throat vibrated with a thunderous growl as Nesta dug her nails deeper into the leather of his jacket, using it for leverage as she arched into him.
Something turned further inside of Cassian, like a lock beginning to grind as a key turned. And then it felt as if he were plunging beneath water; ducking into the depths and travelling beneath an invisible barrier before emerging on the other side buoyant and surging with power.
Ruby crashed through his veins, like the walls of a dam broken free and… singing light. Magic roared so loudly in Cassian’s ears that he no longer heard the galloping beat of his heart or the sawing of their breath.
Reeling, he tore his mouth from Nesta’s. Her eyes were just as wide, puddles of startled moonlight—endless mercury—and Cassian didn’t need to look down to know that her hands were wreathed in silver.
For a moment they stared at one another. Time slowed until it was sluggish around them and then the feeling receded, as if Cassian was being carried by a wave as it was dragged unwillingly from the shore on thundering feet.
Sound bled back into Cassian’s ears, like raindrops slowly blotting paper. A moan whispered on a wind carried through him, the words fleeting—her name three times, like always—before they dispersed into nothing and ragged breathing filled the hole.
Fuck, they needed to be careful. He needed to be careful if just kissing her led to some transcendental experience. Cassian knew Nesta became open during sex—had seen tumbled images of tangled limbs and heard her moans—and he couldn’t afford to lose her when she had finally let him in. Couldn’t let her down, even though he wanted nothing more than to finally be found worthy by someone.
That twisted rope between them couldn’t widen and strengthen. Couldn’t finally open and click into place with a consensual snap.
Because Cassian had heard stories of mates who had gone to bed. Who had fleetingly accepted what they wanted in their hearts but not in their minds. And after they had both finished and life had been breathed into that bond, only death could sever their Cauldron-blessed connection.
Cassian would not have a mate with regrets, but he didn’t have the will-power to deny himself of her any longer. Not when he could scent how much Nests wanted him. When he could feel it like an unquenchable ache in his bones—an ache which made him tremble and shake. His rocky warrior exterior ground to nothing but sand.
As if Nesta could read his thoughts she tipped her head back, baring the column of her neck.
A resounding guttural sound dragged from his throat. The noise was animalistic and unchained. A booming crack ricocheted around the walls, the muscles in Cassian’s back burning as his wings snapped outward.
Something toppled from somewhere and crashed to the floor, but Cassian didn’t bother to raise his head to look at what it was.
And then time seemed to both slow and drive into a frenzy. Cassian launched at Nesta’s neck at the same time he tugged at her hair, urging her head to fall back even farther.
His lips were against the column of her throat in the blink of an eye; his teeth scraping, his mouth sucking until her blood pounded in his ears. Nesta’s knees buckled but Cassian quickly pinned her body to the wall, holding her up, his knee sliding firmly between her legs…
And… nothing. There was no panic or sensation of being trapped—no sudden fire launching him back thirty feet—but Cassian still tore his mouth from Nesta’s neck. Had to know she wasn’t panicking. “Ok?” he rasped.
A frown burrowed Nesta’s brows. Her swollen lips parted in confusion. Somehow it made her look more beautiful.
Cassian raised a shaking hand to trace it away. “Nesta. Are you ok?”
Understanding dawned like millions of unfurling petals.
When Nesta spoke she was short of breath, the words an exhale. “Don’t hold back.”
Cassian practically arched into her at the words but he made himself remain still, even as his body vibrated with tension. His bones creaked but he held fast.
That stubborn, beautiful chin lifted and Nesta’s eyes glinted wicked yet pure. Always an oxymoron, his Nesta.
“Don’t hold back,” she repeated, her voice stronger this time. She pushed her hips against his thigh and the friction had her lips parting, a shaky breath tumbling from her lungs. “I can take it.”
The words were like slashing knives of pleasure, severing the leash on any control Cassian thought he had.
The subsequent rush of air Cassian loosed was akin to a snorting horse.
Then he was moving and their mouths were fused together again, their tongues a delicious push and pull of control and pleasure before he yanked away.
“Thank fuck,” he gasped. His hands flew to her hips, guiding her to ride his thigh. “Thank fuck, Nesta.”
The friction had Nesta moaning, her fingernails digging so hard into the leather of his jacket Cassian was sure she had dented the material. But he didn’t care. Didn’t care about anything but the living fervour that clawed at them.
His hands were everywhere at once. Tangled in her hair. Sliding over her cheek. Cupping her ass. Attacking the buttons at the back of her dress, until they popped and scattered. Until he could pull the material down her arms, exposing tantalising creamy skin.
At the first sight of her breasts, Cassian growled. He bowed his head to capture a nipple sharply between his teeth before he laved over it with his tongue, smoothing over the wound. He relished the way Nesta cried out. Arched into him. She began to tear at his jacket. It snagged on his wings but Cassian shrugged it off until it hit the floor with a thud.
The first slide of Nesta’s palms beneath his tunic was like oil sizzling in a pan. Cassian hissed as the callouses of her palms scraped deliciously over his skin and scars and ink. Snarled as she made quick work of the stays and fastenings. Tried to focus on her other breast as she inched her hand beneath the tight leather fabric and eased him free.
Fingers wrapped sinfully around him, causing Cassian to snarl around a peaked nipple—to buck sharply—pressing them more firmly against the wall.
“Don’t bother,” Nesta moaned as Cassian wrenched desperately at the fabric of her dress, trying to coax it further down her body. She ground down onto his thigh as it to emphasise her point—her need—and the heat of her burned.
It was all Cassian needed to hear. He fumbled desperately with her skirts until a hand was under the material and sliding up her thigh. Until fabric ripped and her underwear fell away in what Cassian imagined to be a ripple of lace.
In one swift movement, Cassian lifted Nesta’s body upwards, until her legs were gripped tightly around his hips and her back was flush against the wall. Her hands flew to find purchase, grappling at the back of his neck, and when she was steady she raked her hand purposefully through the hair which had come loose from his tie. Tugged at the leather until his hair fell over his face. Whined. Tangled her fingers through the ebony strands as if they were her reigns.
Cassian splayed the hand that wasn’t supporting her body against the cold wall. Tried to catch his breath, but the position evened out the height between them. Just a slight movement would allow him to capture her lips with his, and Cassian couldn’t deny that demanding tug that drove him to devour. Nesta seemed to feel the same way. Moaned in relief as Cassian tasted her as if he couldn’t get enough, gave back as good as she got. Over and over they moved, until they were nothing but an undulating wave of tongue and teeth and groans. The pleasure was a surging, roiling entity. It was all consuming. It overtook Cassian’s body, demanding that his hand drag from her ass straight to her core.
When his fingers slid through wetness, Cassian’s groan sounded like thunderous defeat. He dropped his head to Nesta’s collarbone. Gently pressed his lips to her clavicle. To her shoulder. Tried to ground himself as he slid straight to the spot that made her keen—as pleasure ignited down the bond like a crashing wave. Brushed over it again and again and again. Relishing in the noises he coaxed from her. At the curling fists of desire that clenched agonisingly inside of him.
Cassian had to see Nesta fall. Had to look into her eyes as she broke.
But he wanted to be inside of her when it happened.
Cassian was reaching for his cock at the same time that Nesta let out a broken moan. “Do it,” she breathed. There was no bite of authority in her voice, as if all of the energy she had directed in the pursuit of pleasure had smoothed over the serrated edge of her personality he loved so much, leaving a softer version in its wake. “Please. Just—”
A satisfied snarl ripped from Cassian as he felt her want. And in that moment, Cassian knew there would be nothing gentle about how this was going to play out. It was going to be rough and frantic, riding a wave of pleasure that had been building for too long. Knew afterwards that they would sink to the cold floor in a mass of tangled limbs and mingled breath.
And Cassian wanted that. Had never wanted release so badly in his life.
Something clambered in the back of his mind. Something he needed to remember, but his limbs were moving of their own volition. He didn’t even bother to pump his cock or squeeze it to relieve the tension. Only cared about finally being inside of her.
The heat and slickness of her was sinful and divine when he lined himself up at her entrance. The hand he had braced against the wall came to span her cheek. It relied on Nesta clamping on tightly to his waist with her legs and the press of his torso against hers, but they managed it.
Shaking, Cassian raked back the hair that had fallen free from her braid back from Nesta’s face, just as she tugged him in for a bruising kiss.
There was a moment when everything paused and trembled. As Nesta pulled away and stared at him, her eyes swimming silver—glowing with it—her pupils obscured.
His magic surged at the sight of it. Crashed against his skin as if it was trying to escape. His siphons burned bloody.
“Cassian,” Nesta panted. Despite the keen desperation, there was cushion to his name. Gently, Nesta bowed her head until her forehead rested against his. The gesture was surprisingly tender. It tugged at his heartstrings, triggered his hips into movement as they finally pushed forward.
The tight heat that wrapped around him like velvet was so immediate that Cassian swore. Sweat trickled down his back and seeped into the tunic Nesta hadn’t gotten round to discarding. He trembled as Nesta’s breath stuttered and he felt the burning pain mixed with pleasure as he sunk in an inch. Felt the stretch of Nesta’s body as it strained to fit around him.
Claws dug into his back—Nesta’s nails—biting into his skin, until the metallic tang of blood infused the air.
Cassian’s body stilled before he even had a second to register that he needed to stop. That instinct buried deep to make sure she never hurt.
And then a knock rapped at the front door.
“No,” Nesta moaned. She shifted her hips and Cassian sank a little deeper. That pain flared again through the pleasure and Cassian grip on her turned vice like.
Sense stumbled into his desire addled brain, like a fawn on gangly legs.
But then it righted itself.
Another sharp rap at the door cleared his head completely.
He bowed to bury his face in the crook of her neck but Nesta whined. Tilted her hips again, urging him deeper. “Nesta, stop.”
“No.” Her whimper was doused in frustration, but all Cassian could feel was that sharp needle of pain.
He tried to pull back, but Nesta clamped down around him with that incredible strength of hers. The strength that only seemed to appear at times of desperation or anger.
Cassian’s jaw flexed, his features hardening. “I’m hurting you.”
“You’re not,” Nesta countered, defiance colouring her expression.
“I am,” Cassian retorted, not allowing for a passing beat of their hearts to pass before he replied. “I’m hurting you. Don’t pretend that I’m not.”
I can feel it, Cassian wanted to explain, but didn’t. Knew somehow that if he did they might not end up joining at all.
Desire fogged Nesta’s mind and it fuelled the punch to her next words. “I don’t care.”
Ire punched through Cassian’s desire enough for him to see red. “Well, I do,” he snapped.
Nesta’s nostrils flared at his tone and her eyes burned silver. Cassian wondered how everything had gone southward so quickly—they were on a sinking ship and he needed to patch it up. Knew she felt rejected. So, he kissed her and pushed back that unquenchable ache he felt for her. Knew it hit home because she gasped softly into his mouth, her surprise tart on his tongue.
He pulled out. As soon as his cock fell free that pain throbbed and ebbed. But Nesta moaned all the same.
Moaned again as he drew his head back to stare at her.
She surprised him when her eyes remained open rather than closed off. There was no hard shield. Nothing but want and a vulnerability that made his heart squeeze.
It gave him the courage to do the right thing.
He kissed her again. Trailed a thumb across her swollen lips, ignoring the desire that roared as Nesta sucked it into her mouth, her tongue darting across the top before the bit down lightly.
“This is how things are going to go,” Cassian murmured lowly, pulling his thumb out of her mouth and across her jawline, trailing the wetness all the way to the sensitive spot behind her ear. Nesta shuddered.
“I’m going to get the door and send whoever it is away,” Cassian continued. He paused to let the words sink in. Lowered his head to trace a path with his nose, up the slope of her shoulder, all the way up her neck until his lips were grazing the shell of her ear. “You will go to your bedroom. When they’re gone, I’ll find you.”
Another shiver coursed through Nesta’s body. Her fingers tightened around his neck.
When Nesta next spoke, Cassian knew he’d piqued her interest. “What then?” she demanded.
“Then I’m going to make you come until you see stars.”
Nesta’s entire body froze. For a long moment, she didn’t so much as breathe, but Cassian felt the throb of her blood and magic as it pounded against her skin.
Then, Nesta’s hands worked between them, until her small palms were splayed across his chest. She pushed firmly, indicating that she wanted to get her down. Her body slithered to the floor, her lean legs falling away from his body.
The sudden distance between them felt like miles.
Nesta lifted her chin. “Hurry or I’ll start without you.”
A breath heaved at Cassian’s lungs and he felt his pupils contract, pushing out his irises until they were swallowed by black. The image of Nesta sprawled on the bed wearing nothing but skin, her legs open, a hand moving between her legs had that coil within him tightening to the point of pain.
A growl spiked through the air as another knock sounded at the door.
Nesta must have known she’d wrangled back control, because she arched a cool eyebrow at him. “I thought you were going to answer the door?”
A dark chuckle forced its way out of his chest, but it was mechanical rather than true. Because there was nothing funny about resisting Nesta right now and his body seemed to know that.
Cassian reached for her before he knew what was happening. Rested his forehead against hers. Breathed once. Twice. “I need to calm down,” he confessed.
Nesta snickered, but the sound fell flat as her breath hitched upwards at the end. It betrayed the effect he had on her, even as she said silkily, “Did the image of me pleasuring myself get you hard?”
“I was already hard,” he growled. He pressed a lingering kiss to her mouth. “As you well know.”
A hand reached between them. Stroked over him—the touch feather light but tantalising enough that Cassian bucked into her touch.
And then cunning words, “Maybe I’ll let you watch.”
A string of swear words left Cassian’s mouth. He yanked back from Nesta, as if someone had tugged firmly on a leash. Tugged up his pants and jerked ruthlessly at the ties until they fastened, trapping his cock back into the leather.
With a growl, Cassian waved a hand towards the living room—to Nesta’s room to the right of it. “Leave before I fuck you against the wall, Nesta,” he barked.
Nesta’s sly laugh skittered over his skin, and without pulling her dress back up to cover herself, Nesta sashayed through the nearest arch and disappeared.
It had been Mas and Roksana at the door, laden with bags full of groceries and supplies from the market. With full access to the house, there was no reason why they shouldn’t have just come right in. Which meant Mas had suspected somehow, enough so that she had left the bags on the front step and remained standing with Roksana a few feet back.
“I am sorry Sinta, but the meat might spoil,” the housekeeper had apologised as soon as he’d opened the door, his hair a tangled mess from where Nesta had yanked it free of its tie. He hadn’t had the sense to recover it from the floor, but he had righted his tunic and fastened his pants.
And thank the Cauldron for that, because Roksana peeked up at Cassian with wide eyes from her position of safety behind Mas’s legs. He didn’t know when Lorrian had brought the youngling back to the camp, but Cassian guessed it hadn’t been easy on the two of them to take a little girl out of the warmth and back into the snow.
Cassian tried to soften the eyes that he knew were a little wild. He raked his hands through his hair and sent them his most disarming smile, but there was fuck all he could do about his scent. So he thanked her, trying to keep his voice light and conversational. Ordered her to take the rest of the day off.
To the housekeeper’s credit, she did not linger. Had merely nodded and rushed Roksana back into the snow, towards the main vein of the camp.
Yet, whilst the housekeeper’s interruption had been unwanted, it did grant Cassian some breathing space as he rammed perishables into the cool box. Because even though Cassian would allow Nesta to decide how this all played out, he needed to lay down a rule of his own: he could give her the space to decide what she wanted—for him to prove that he could be what she needed—but there was one thing he could not suffer through.
And if they had stormed ahead in a hurricane of lust; with Nesta’s back against the wall as Cassian pounded into her… Well, it would be too late for Cassian to lay down his one condition once they were sweaty and sated. Nesta was more likely to get up and walk away. To not look back.
Cassian found Nesta sitting at the dresser in her room re-braiding back her hair.
Leaning against the doorjamb, Cassian opened his mouth to explain who had been at the door, but an iron band closed fast around his chest, robbing him of breath.
“What are you wearing?” The words came out of him eventually, entirely uneven to the point of being choked.
Because Nesta was wearing his shirt. It was the same steel blue shirt she’d worn that first day in Illyria. The shirt that was an identical match to her eyes, purchased before Cassian had realising what his subconscious had done. A shirt he’d had to hide away in the spare room because Cassian hadn’t been able to bare seeing it in his closet—of being reminded that his mate was a ghost who had banished him away.
Go home, Cassian.
Nesta met Cassian's eyes in the mirror. Announced with cool simplicity, “You ripped my dress.”
“And this is your way of torturing me?”
An indifferent shrug. “Why wear my own clothing when I know what fate it will suffer?”
Cassian knew his nostrils billowed, but he remained propped up against the doorframe. Pretended he was stuck to it like glue because his body was trembling for him to launch across the distance and claim her mouth. Her neck. Her.
The silence seemed to unnerve Nesta. Cassian knew that from months of living with her. From months of studying her slight tells when her masks slipped.
Right on cue, Nesta reset her posture—a gesture that most people read as defiant. But Cassian knew it was also a sign of nerves. She shrugged with feigned indifference, even as her throat tightened and that damned pulse fluttered temptingly against her throat. “You liked it the last time I wore it.”
Cassian huffed a breath. He had liked it the last time she wore it, even if she’d been so gaunt that he’d worried she might wither away. But the shirt… it had put images in his mind that Cassian had long tried to store away, imprisoned in rock and flame: her in his clothing, not fucking other males but him, her lithe legs wrapping around his waist as he sank deep—
Which brought Cassian neatly to the point he needed to discuss with her…
Nesta’s eyes tracked Cassian in the mirror as he peeled himself out of the doorway and came to stand behind her. When their eyes locked into place, it felt as if someone had punched him in the chest. There was something deep in Nesta’s gaze that made it feel as if he was tumbling down a rabbit hole, that magnetism between them drawing him in like gravity.
When Cassian’s fingers brushed Nesta’s neck—ran down the braid she had draped over her shoulder—Nesta shivered. “You had your hair down then,” he rasped. Didn’t wait for her to protest, as he slowly coaxed the tie free from the end of her hair.
Nesta turned preternaturally still, watched him gently part her hair in the mirror until it fell free from her plait, his calloused fingers brushing over her skin as he coaxed her hair to fall down her back.
The pulse hammering at her throat and the warmth radiating from her skin were the only indications that Nesta was alive rather than stone.
Only when Cassian had finished and lifted his hands from her neck, did Nesta come back to life.
Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. But she cocked her head slightly to dissect him. “It’s a nuisance like this. It gets in the way.”
“It’s beautiful,” Cassian corrected, his voice rasping, like sand scraping against skin. He ran a hand through her hair as if to emphasise his point, his fingers running down, down, down until her waist.
When Nesta stood and turned into the warmth of him, Cassian scented what she wanted. But there was something else simmering in her expression—surprise. As if she’d caught the truth in his words and hadn’t expected someone to truly think her beautiful.
She stepped closer, until the lines of her torso ghosted his. Until Cassian’s heart pounded so hard he could hear the frantic tempo of it in his ears. Nesta tilted her head back so she could stare up at him and Cassian’s hand weaved through the mane of her hair before he could stop himself.
He was desperate to touch her again. Desperate.
But Cassian waited. Waited for Nesta to reach up on tiptoes and press her mouth to his.
The kiss was not like their bruised, desperate kisses from earlier. It was coaxing and unsure; the tentative beginning of something that was not merely fuelled by ardour. But it soon blossomed into something more, like a snowball rolling down a mountain blanketed white, gaining speed as it grew and grew—
Dragging his mouth away from hers, Cassian fought for breath. Battled to remember what he needed to do and say. But then Nesta was tugging his head back down again, her fingers tangled in his hair, the gesture indicative of an insistent need that Cassian knew would not go away.
As always, Nesta tasted divine. Addictive. He could taste the curl of her power on his tongue—silver and white, life and death—and he wondered if she could taste his. Knew his siphons were glowing scarlet—
“Nesta,” he murmured hoarsely, her name a caress against her lips. He couldn’t invoke a distance between them, couldn’t stop touching her. His nose brushed hers as her drew back an infinitesimal amount. Closed his eyes. Inhaled deeply, summoning courage. “You can dictate how this goes between us. But if we do this, I can’t—there’s no-one else. Just you and me.”
The subsequent pause was one of the worst of Cassian’s life. It was barely a breath. The blink of an eye. But it felt as if it was malleable and elastic, drawn out by the hands of fate as everything suspended in time.
He didn’t want to open his eyes, but in the end he managed it. Caught Nesta’s eyelashes flutter downwards, casting shadows on her skin. Her fists tightened in the fabric of his tunic, anchoring him to the moment.
She swallowed. Shook her head. Agreed with a conviction he had not been expecting, “No-one else.”
The relief that swooped through Cassian was so fierce it was painful. But he still didn’t dare to believe it.
He caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger so Nesta could not look away. So he could look into the deep waters of her irises and know she was telling him the truth.
But her gaze was steady and unwavering, as he demanded, “Say it again.”
His voice cracked but Nesta didn’t appear to notice. Her grip on him tightened. “No-one else,” she repeated on an outward breath.
A low, ravaged moan sounded from Cassian’s throat. “Diyosa,” he murmured, slipping into Illyrian. Goddess.
“Bruha,” Nesta corrected. She fumbled over the pronunciation but Cassian felt as if he had been an ember that had burst into flame. Witch.
He let out a rough bark of laughter. Then he swore in a long, drawn out moan. “No Illyrian,” he ordered roughly. Pressed his mouth firmly against hers, the kiss searing. “Otherwise this will be over far too quickly.” Another kiss. “And I want to take my time.”
The smile Nesta painted against Cassian’s lips was feline. “You’ve made a lot of promises, General. I hope you don’t disappoint.”
Cassian snarled. Spun her body until her back was cradled against his chest. “I have, haven’t I?” he mused lightly, even though the hammering of his heart must have beat a betraying rhythm against her shoulder blade.
In the mirror, Nesta’s expression grew less poised and controlled. Delight mixed with anticipation clung to her features at this game they played; this tussle for control. She did not try to wrangle free from his hold or shift uncomfortably in his arms at having her back enclosed against his.
It thrilled him—that trust. Enough so that when he met her eyes in the mirror, Cassian found that his irises had been swallowed by his pupils until they were only a ring of chocolate gold.
Slowly, Cassian brushed Nesta’s hair over to one shoulder with his left hand. Traced his fingers down the arc of her neck to her collarbone. Continued a path down the centre of her chest, to the pyrite which glittered between her breasts.
When his fingers met the first button of his shirt, Cassian toyed with it. Purposefully grazed his nose against the shell of her ear. “Shall I start here?” he murmured. “Undress you in front of the mirror whilst you watch?”
Nesta suppressed a shudder, but Cassian caught it. Could swear he felt her blood boiling beneath her skin as he slipped the button free of its hole. Then another. And another. Until there were no more buttons and the material hung free.
Leaning back into his body, Nesta rested her head against his chest. Curved her back slightly so her chest thrust upwards, silently instructing him where she wanted his hands.
And Cassian couldn’t deny her. He turned his palm so it was face up and curled into a loose fist. Brushed his knuckles down her sternum all the way to her bared naval, before bringing it back up. His fingers ran up the side of the material free of buttons, until he was at her collarbone—her shoulder—leaving a litter of goosebumps in his wake.
This time, Cassian snickered when she shivered. Dropped a slow and deliberate kiss to her bare shoulder as he slowly, slowly inched the material down, down, down over her arm. Repeated the motion on the other, until the shirt pooled onto the floor, exposing her bare body to the mirror: endless creamy skin, divine curves, the luscious full weight of her bare breasts, and… lower.
Nesta’s eyes, which had been tracking the fabric as it fell away, snapped to his as a feral growl ripped from him. And she moaned at the expression on his face. Grabbed at his hands, pulling them to her body.
“Touch me,” Nesta hissed, but it came out strangled. Almost pleading. Another crack in her armour as it broke and fell away.
The sight was enough to threaten Cassian to his knees. He guided her body backwards, his hands splaying firmly across her stomach despite her whine, until his legs hit the edge of the mattress
Neither of them broke eye contact in the mirror. Not when Cassian coaxed Nesta down to sit on the bed with him. Not when he pulled her between his legs, her back firmly against his chest. Not when he bowed his head to kiss the slope between her neck and shoulder.
When Cassian finally brushed a thumb over her nipple, Nesta back bowed so fiercely Cassian was thankful he had an arm strapped across her stomach.
The small noise she loosed fuelled his fire and Cassian held on to her. Stroked over that peaked nipple again as Nesta careened into his touch. Followed it with a firmer roll with his thumb and forefinger. Used the fingertips of his other hand to draw slow, tantalising circles across the silken skin of her lower stomach, before he moved southwards…
The air around them hushed when Cassian’s fingers stilled. Anticipation built and only when it vibrated with tension did Cassian slide his hands to cradle Nesta’s hips.
A snarl of frustration, but Cassian paid the sound no heed. Only grazed his thumbs over Nesta’s hipbones. Watched her expression in the mirror—the way her face contorted as she squirmed into his touch as if she was a puppet on strings. Ground back onto him, pressing into that building ache that was bordering on painful.
Cassian wasn’t sure if he had spoken out loud or in his head, all he knew was the blessed, fleeting relief he felt as he bucked into the small of Nesta’s back on instinct. He was rock hard and thirsting to be touched, but the thickening scent of Nesta’s arousal pulled his focus.
A groan rumbled from Cassian’s throat as Nesta’s hand darted between her legs. He caught her wrist just in the nick of time. Kissed the heart of her palm. Rumbled into her ear, “Not yet, sweetheart.”
His voice was coarse enough that Nesta shivered, the goosebumps travelling down her skin like a cresting wave. She didn’t struggle against him, nor did she move to disobey him as he dropped her wrist. Instead, she waited, trembling and shaking at every pass of his thumbs over her skin.
Cassian buried his nose behind the shell of her ear. Breathed Nesta in, steadying the drum of his pulse.
Not once did he take his eyes off of hers in the mirror, especially as he murmured, “Shall we find out if you’re wet for me?”
Nesta squeezed her eyes tightly shut, as if the movement would steady her. Swallowed hard. It was so unlike her to take stock, to show any signs that she was rattled, that Cassian softened. He nuzzled at her neck, trailed a line of kisses instilled with promises. A hand flew up to tangle in Cassian’s hair, keeping him there.
The word stuttered out of Nesta on several staccatos, but she forced her eyes open and met his gaze in the mirror. Watched as he pulled her tighter against him and hooked her legs over his thighs so she was spread wide. Slipped his hand across and down…
The first ghost of a touch had Nesta panting through her nose. The second had her gritting her teeth. The third had her moaning, her back bowing so sharply as he skimmed straight over the place she wanted him the most.
Her head hit the centre of his chest with a resounding thud that had his bones creaking, but she did not look away from him. Seemed to know the game they were playing without him having to express it.
When Cassian brought his fingers lower and discovered just how wet Nesta was, he had to force his wings in tight to his back to hide his surprise. Growled, “You’re soaked.”
Pleasure and embarrassment twisted in Cassian’s stomach, and Cassian wanted to tell her that it was not something to be ashamed of, that he wanted her just as much as she clearly wanted his fingers between her legs.
Her eyes glinted steel, her stare commanding. “Make me come—“ she ordered, but Cassian chose that moment to roll his finger over that spot at the apex of her thighs.
The command bottomed out of Nesta as she inhaled sharply. Satisfaction bloomed inside of Cassian; because he may have done this countless times before but barely enough with her. And nothing seemed to matter apart from him seeking out her satisfaction. Of learning about what made her body freeze with pleasure and what made her come undone. “There?” he murmured into her ear, repeating the movement, before he passed his fingers down further. Until they were at her entrance, playing gently before he drew upwards and circled.
This time, Nesta groaned. Her hips jerked sharply beneath him, tilting, guiding him to just the right place.
Picking up on the cue, Cassian increased the tempo and friction until Nesta’s hips were rolling in a punishing rhythm against the hard length of him.
And Cassian snarled in satisfaction, his fingers tightening around her hip in a plea for her to keep moving—to not stop pushing back on him—because it was blissfully good. The rapid tightening in his groin was almost painful, the cord so tight that Cassian thought it might snap. But he couldn’t stop Nesta, not when she looked so bewitching, the arousal so stark on her face as he stroked and circled and pressed.
Burning pleasure clambered to its peak and Nesta’s eyes grew so heavy they fluttered closed. Something unintelligible left her lips, her head tipping back into the heart of his chest.
When Nesta’s arms wound around his neck, her knuckles accidentally grazing the leather of his wings, Cassian part-snarled, part-roared. Swore. Held her even tighter as his wings snapped out high and mighty behind him. They wrapped around Nesta’s body before Cassian’s pleasure-fogged mind could stop them curling towards her, starved for her touch.
Fuck, he was unhinged. So desperate for relief—in the scent and feel of his mate—that his control was barely there. Enough so that he didn’t react when Nesta reached out her hand—
Sense knocked Cassian for six only when Nesta’s fingers were millimetres from touching the membrane. He drew back his wings so fast the air around them stormed, but he swooped in before surprise could register on Nesta’s face. Dipped his chin and coaxed her head even further back so he could claim her mouth.
The taste of her lips was as vital as breathing, the scrape of her nails on his scalp grounding. He moaned into her mouth at the same time as she whimpered. His hand was still moving between her legs, interchanging the same three patterns over and over again, mixing things up as soon as Nesta’s moans grew too untamed: he wanted to draw out her pleasure, not sate it with a few choice strokes.
Pulling away, Cassian pressed a kiss to her forehead. Coaxed her to dip her chin until she was looking back at their reflection in the mirror: ebony and golden brown, tan and cream.
Nesta’s irises were wisps of silver, but when he traversed past that bundle of nerves so he could slip two fingers inside of her, they flickered into living flame.
That was indication enough that she liked what he was doing. Cassian had quickly learnt that Nesta became completely readable between the sheets, that mask slowly crumbling away until she broke completely.
Curving his fingers as much as he could, Cassian pressed upwards hard—again and again— revelling in the strangled sounds Nesta made. The way she writhed but tried her best to hold his gaze.
Cassian dropped a lingering kiss to the crown of Nesta’s head. Murmured into her hair, “Is that good, sweetheart?”
The only response Cassian received was a long moan which extended into a whine as he withdrew his fingers. Then a sharp cry as he swept them upwards, swirling them in a well-practiced motion that had Nesta’s lower half seizing in pleasure.
Cassian circled again. Again. Firmer. Faster. Nesta’s cries grew louder, her breathing became more laboured. A silver wreathed hand flew to his forearm—not to stop him, but to keep him there.
Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Don’t stop.
The bond between them creaked and cracked as it expanded.
Nesta panted his name.
“Are you going to come for me, sweetheart?” Cassian scratched out.
In vain, Nesta attempted to burrow her head into his shoulder, but Cassian’s voice dropped out of soft and into the role of general within the fraction of a heartbeat. “Eyes on the mirror, Nesta, or I’ll stop.”
It seemed to take all of Nesta’s energy to fight her leaded eyelids and meet his dark eyes in their reflection. When she did, Cassian’s magic roared and pounded beneath his skin, as if it was trying to break free and join Nesta’s. There was a pressure and power fuelling the sensation that was separate to him. It was like the magnetic force which rules the relentless ebb and flow of the tide—that desperate crash followed by a scrabbling, thundering retreat.
That twisted rope between them grew corporeal, tugging at their ribcages as if it was clambering to remind them both of its existence. Of the cost of this exchange.
Something deepened in both of their gazes, but if Nesta had felt what Cassian had, she gave no indication. She only arched her hips back into his, grinding backwards.
Cassian loosed a rough groan that skittered across the shell of her ear. Her gaze was purposeful but hooded, as if she was in a continual battle with the pleasure weighting her eyelids.
“Good girl,” he praised as Nesta’s eyelashes fluttered from the strain of maintaining eye contact. And then his fingers were everywhere at once and Nesta’s moans fell away to short gasps that rose in volume.
Nesta tightened her fingers around his neck, scrabbling for purchase, for some sort of tether as her pleasure launched high into the air. The hand that had been at her hip, steadying her, encouraging her to roll back on him moved to her breast; cupping and pinching and rolling as she stuttered pants and words that Cassian couldn’t make out.
When Cassian slid two fingers inside of her again and pressed down firmly on her clit with his palm, Nesta’s cry was wild.
“Look at me,” Cassian ordered as Nesta’s eyes flew shut. His voice was resonant—startling—even to him. It punched through the bubble that had encased them—their entwined scent—and Nesta’s eyes snapped open.
For a beat, time seemed to stand still around them. Their gaze fastened back into place and for a moment, Cassian could see a conflict of thoughts swirl in the magic of Nesta’s irises.
He froze just as anguish crashed down that bond, right into the heart of his chest.
It knocked the breath from him. Confusion rattled inside of his head but he came up empty of answers. Had he gone too far? Had he hurt her somehow?
“Sweetheart—“ he started, but stopped. Unsure of what to say because he could still smell how much she wanted this. Could feel how soaked she was. But perhaps that was what the mating bond did. Fooled reason with an overwhelming drive to pleasure and claim.
Cassian went to draw his hand away but Nesta’s hand whipped out, her fingers curling around his wrist. Desperation flooded her next words—the plea in them stark. “Don’t stop.”
As if to punctuate her point, she rolled her hips. His fingers slid over her of her own accord and she stumbled a moan. Light barrelled down the bond and Cassian’s blood spiked, thrilled as he felt the truth of her words, as she ground back into him again.
“Fuck that feels good,” Cassian grunted into her ear. His hips pushed into the small of her back, accentuating his point. It chased the delicious reprieve from the ache in his cock, even as he knew this moment wasn’t about him. As he pulled her back into the solid muscle of his chest, steadying her movements so he could pick up where he left off: so he could watch the pleasure whip away her conflicted expression until her eyes were once again blazing with the promise of flame.
Silver mist climbed from Nesta’s fingertips into the air. It crawled over the glowing ruby siphons across the backs of his hands, past the corded muscle of his forearm and the rolled up sleeves of his tunic, to his chest, his neck…
A sheen of metal shone in Cassian’s eyes, flickering across his irises so they appeared to turn a metallic gold. The lick of Nesta’s magic didn’t burn. It was a rush of heat—the tender caress of a lover’s kiss instilled into his skin over and over again, ascending Cassian to another realm of pleasure, as if he’d climbed a staircase to an entirely new place.
It felt like an extended method of foreplay Cassian had never been privy to before, lighting up every nerve ending until he was so hard he could cut stone.
Gritting his teeth through the pain-cloaked pleasure, Cassian focussed instead on Nesta’s bare skin.
The tempting fullness of her breasts. The way desire had completely rewritten her countenance. The way she whimpered and then cried out.
Cassian sped up his movements. Until his fingers were no longer teasing, but dancing over her with sure, quick movements designed to thrust her towards a crescendo.
Nesta’s magic swirled into flame, the heat of it a licking promise down Cassian’s limbs. He groaned, swore at the exquisite pain on her face as she hung at the precipice, ready to plummet into rapture.
Her climax became a tangible, living thing and Cassian wanted to see it play out for as long as he possible could. Wanted to see her break for him again and again and again.
So, he waited until she reached the summit and when she was there he slowed down his movements. Ordered through her whimpering, “Look at me Nesta.”
Metallic irises met his, and then Nesta was trembling and shaking in fits and bursts as her release ripped out of her like a taut cord cut loose. Cassian drew her orgasm out as best he could, suspending that pleasure until finally Nesta slumped against him, spineless.
She turned her head to bury it in his shoulder and Cassian let her. Stroked her hair. Pressed a kiss to her sweaty head. Murmured, “Good?”
Slowly, Nesta nodded, but for a long while, that was the only communication he received. But Cassian let her recover. Watched the way her ribcage moved as she heaved for breath. Relished the way her body was splayed out over him, her legs held wide open from where they were hooked over his thighs.
Unable to help himself, Cassian brushed over her sex. Delighted in the way Nesta shuddered rather than batted him away. Fresh desire reignited across her expression and Cassian played gently for a few minutes, revelling in the wetness that had gathered from her release.
Finally, Nesta lifted her head to meet his gaze again. “Did I burn you?”
“No,” Cassian replied hoarsely, his heart squeezing at the genuine fear in her words. He let out a rough laugh, passed his fingers lightly over the knot at the apex of her legs for the last time before he withdrew them.
Nesta moaned softly, even as her brow twisted into a small frown.
“It felt good,” Cassian elaborated. He kissed her shoulder at the same time that he pushed his hips into hers as if to demonstrate just how much he’d liked her magic. “I’m being strangled to death in these pants,” he confessed.
When Nesta cocked her head, her hair moved in a golden tangle. Then she smirked. Unravelled her limbs from him and turned.
Nesta slung her legs over his waist so she was straddling him just as Cassian’s hands caught in her hair. A booming sounded as his wings snapped out and fanned behind him, settling like falling fabric.
“We can’t have that,” Nesta remarked, her breath a whisper against his skin.
“No,” Cassian agreed roughly. “It’s your favourite part.”
Nesta snorted a laugh, but it was not derisive. “Egotistical bat,” she muttered.
A slow, smug smile was Cassian’s only reply. Because he was more focussed on her mouth. With the feel of her silken skin beneath his palms as he ran them up her legs and over her rounded ass. His touch was a promise as he tugged her into his body and ground up into her core, the seam of his trousers doing nothing to relieve the damning ache in his cock.
Together they gasped, and then, as always, they moved at the same time, their mouths slanting one another within a fraction of a second.
The heat of Nesta was liquid, the touch of her smoke—feverish and everywhere all at once. It was the same heat that had roared into existence when Cassian had pinned her against the wall earlier, yet… better somehow. Passionate and awake rather than fogged with lust. Life-giving.
A shuddered groan was pulled from Cassian’s chest as Nesta’s hands slid beneath his tunic and met his burning skin. And then the tunic was on the floor—the rest of his clothing was torn from him soon after. It all happened at such speed Cassian could barely keep up, but when Nesta reached for his bare, burning skin—the tattoos on his arms and the faint scar on his stomach—her fingers were gentle.
“Battle scar,” Cassian panted in explanation, as Nesta’s fingers lingered on the silvery tissue that wound over his lower abdomen: a permanent reminder of what had happened to him during the final battle with Hybern. “The trauma was too great for Madja to heal completely.”
“I remember,” Nesta replied shortly and she looked so fierce that Cassian reached for her. Cupped her cheek with his palm.
“Still breathing, Nes.”
Nesta nodded, but when she kissed him this time there was something fierce and desperate about it, her fingers burying deeper into the mane of his hair.
And then a hand was trailing down his skin and closing around his cock. The touch was sinful and a glimpse of the heavens. When he hissed into her mouth, Nesta gripped tighter—until pain laced the pleasure—just how he liked it.
His groan was that of rumbling thunder as she began to move her hand. It was everything Cassian needed, but it was too much, too good. He scrambled to hold on to some sense of control, because he’d never been this close to losing it from just a few touches.
Then Nesta stopped. Glanced downwards—
The realisation thumped through Cassian so loudly his heartbeat punched like a fist against his ribcage.
“Don’t you dare,” Cassian choked out.
Nesta’s eyes shot to his, but rather than looking startled she arched a challenging eyebrow.
“If you so much as try to put my cock in your mouth I’ll explode,” Cassian rasped.
Before she could protest, he was gathering her to him and had slipped a hand down between her legs.
Just the touch of his fingers had Cassian seizing back control. Nesta stilled at the sudden pleasure, as if she was trying to coax time into suspending the sensation.
“Still so wet,” Cassian purred against the tip of her ear.
Gliding his fingers over the centre of her, Cassian paused briefly at the apex of her legs, toying with her clit, before he ran them back down. When he drew his fingers back, rubbing them together and raising them to the faelight, they glittered.
Nesta’s nostrils flared as if she was an animal in heat. And Cassian knew before he spoke that his voice? would be what pushed them over the edge. But he said it anyway, his voice dropping impossibly low, “Is this all for me?”
Nesta launched at him until their mouths collided, until they were nothing but a clash of teeth and tongues, their skin so flush they may as well have been fused together.
Burying her fingers deeper into the tangled mane of his hair, Nesta tugged sharply. Met his gaze head on. Demanded, “Fuck me.”
All it took was those two words. Cassian moved, flipping them so Nesta’s back was flush against the mattress. He covered her body with his and Nesta whined at the contact, her body bending and arching towards him as if she were a plant and he was sunlight.
Cassian ran a hand up her bare thigh to her ass, coaxing her leg to bend, but Nesta was too impatient. She broke free from the weight of his body, repositioning herself until legs were wrapped tightly around his hips.
An uneven laugh choked out of him. “So stubborn,” Cassian chided darkly, but he allowed his hips to fall into the cradle of hers. Hissed as he loosed his control and thrust so his cock could glide through her centre. “Fuck,” he grunted. “Nesta, fuck.”
Nesta’s breathy whine fuelled the sparks of pleasure that crackled through him like static energy. He kissed her hard. “There’s a high probability I won’t survive this.”
The snort Nesta loosed tried to sound unaffected, but her voice shook as she accused him, “Liar.”
But he wasn’t lying. And Nesta knew it. She had to know it because his walls were now shattered around them in splintered shards.
Yet, Cassian found himself assuring her. “Not lying," he grunted as he passed over her again. Pressed a lingering kiss to her mouth—a parting goodbye as he moved to kiss the underside of her jaw, down the column of her throat. Down further, to flick his tongue and scrape his teeth over both nipples.
He moaned when she moaned; their sounds a chorus of want until he couldn’t take it anymore. Cassian’s claws clipped around the metal of the bed frame at the same time that he pushed off of the palms that were framing her face, until he was on his knees before her.
Despite the desire coursing through him, Cassian’s head was nothing but clear as he slid his hands under Nesta’s ass and lifted her effortlessly, positioning her so that the undersides of her thighs were flush against his knees.
Nesta’s hair was tousled over the pillow, her lips swollen and parted as she surveyed him. When she tried to wrap her legs back around his hips, Cassian held firm. And despite the fact that Nesta listened to nobody, she allowed him to bend her knees and press his calloused palms to the insides of her thighs in silent instruction.
They fell open and a growl rumbled in Cassian’s throat. His hand was fisting his cock, lining it up to her entrance before he knew what was happening. But then he remembered the pain from before. And even though Nesta was more than ready for him, the thought of hurting her made him feel physically sick.
When he moved away, Nesta let out a strangled noise. A hand shot out, closing around his wrist. “You said you’d fuck me.”
Cassian wanted to explain, but that meant alluding to that tie between them, that instinct that couldn’t allow him to see her hurt. Cassian knew Nesta wasn’t ready for that. Knew that if he so much as breathed a word about it that this precious moment would fall away.
And Cassian was selfish. He had to see how this played out. Had to know if Nesta could grow to accept the bond between them—deem him worthy enough to accept something that was Cauldron blessed.
So, he only drawled, “Patience is a virtue, sweetheart.”
One swift movement had Cassian gathering Nesta into his arms. This time, he allowed Nesta’s legs to wind around him. She gripped him like a vice and Cassian knew it wasn’t from fear of him dropping her. When he sat back against the headboard and guided her onto his lap, Cassian expected her to bite out a comment about doing all of the work, but Nesta only let out a pleased sound. Weaved a hand back into his ebony hair. Wrapped a tight fist around his length, twisting once at the tip, before she guided him to her entrance.
Cassian hissed a curse as she closed around the head. Murmured her name into her mouth. Gripped tightly at her hips when she didn’t stop sinking down on him, as he felt that pain mixed with the sweetest pleasure.
“Nesta.” The way he said her name was firm and commanding, but he still had to dig his fingers hard enough into her skin that he was sure it would leave temporary bruises. The thought made him falter, but then that sharp pain flared again as she resisted against him, and he knew that the bruises were a necessary evil. “Nesta,” he barked, “Go slowly.”
Something creaked and cracked between them. A stretching, growing pain reached its fingers down that bond, the sensation strong rather than constricted as it fought to make its way down their usually thin tie.
Nails dug into Cassian’s neck. A whimper sounded in his ears as Nesta fell forwards, burying her face into his neck. “Please,” she whined in frustration. “Cassian—”
She broke off as she clamped down around him and Cassian felt an ebb of pleasure cut through the pain—that promise of something more.
“Don’t make me hurt you, sweetheart,” Cassian pleaded and the rawness in his voice stopped her resisting against him. He eased a hand between them, touched her right where she wanted him. Allowed her to tug his face upwards so she could kiss him. It was infused with desperation and Cassian eased his hold on her hip. Allowed her to lower herself downwards until she had slid another inch deeper. Continued to stroke her until Nesta began to shake.
“I’m going to—,” Nesta gasped against his mouth. Her body trembled and Cassian’s blood roared at bringing her to the edge again so soon, despite the pain. “Cassian—”
Abruptly, Cassian moved his hand away.
Nesta’s snarl whipped around the room, but Cassian smoothed the sound away by fusing his mouth on hers. She stopped shaking but the sharp bite of Nesta’s glare pierced its teeth through his flesh in a flash of silver.
“It will be better if you wait,” Cassian gritted out in explanation when they parted. Nesta’s breath gusted against his skin. “And I don’t think I can hold on if you come so soon. You feel so good, Nesta. So tight.”
As if on cue, Nesta contracted around him and Cassian ground his teeth together so hard that the muscle in his jaw worked. But he let Nesta slide down on him another inch. Then another. And another. Until their hips were finally flush with one another and that pain had bled away until it was nothing.
The moaned words that fell from Nesta were indistinguishable, but he felt her tremor. Felt that surge inside of him as Nesta repeated herself with a whine that indicated she was toppling over the ledge of control, like a glass teetering before it fell.
And then she was moving and Cassian let her. He was unable to think or breathe. Could only focus on the feel of her.
“Fuck,” Cassian groaned. His head thunked back hard against the headboard as she ground her hips into his, testing the feel of him. “This is better than I’d dreamed.”
No soft snicker, only an untamed whine. Then teeth scraping a sinful path down his neck to his pulse.
Cassian’s hips kicked up hard as her teeth nipped.
“Sorry,” he gasped, because even though Nesta had told him not to hold back, he was still concerned about hurting her. But Nesta’s fingernails bit into his skin and her body moulded to him—a delicious second skin—as she inhaled sharply. “Again,” she demanded with a fierceness that did not allow disobedience. “Do that again—”
It didn’t take a second command for Cassian to thrust up hard. And true to her word, Nesta took him all. Did not change her mind and ask him to hold back. Instead, Cassian knew that this was exactly what she wanted—no, needed. She needed this punishing rhythm just as much as he did.
And it felt… incredible. Beyond anything Cassian had ever felt before. The blood roaring in his ears intermingled with Nesta’s cries and the slap of his hips meeting hers, was the only thing he could hear, his senses narrowed down to the sensation of her wrapped around him, so tight …
It was too good. It threatened to break him, to take everything that he was and reform it entirely, as if he was going to shatter and be pieced back together as someone else entirely. The air around them became taut with pressure, tanning leather stretched too tight over a rack, as if their joining controlled one of the essential elements.
“Cassian.” That one word threatened to break him. Not bat or it or you, only his name falling from her lips as if it was their secret. “More.”
Exhaling a curse, Cassian planted his feet firmly on the mattress and thrust up with as much vigour as he could muster. The movement had them slipping from their upright position and Cassian’s claws absent-mindedly closed around the metal bed frame, strapping them in for the ride as his body coiled and tensed as he slammed into her over and over.
Nesta cried out. Grabbed fistfuls of his hair as they moved together as if they had been made for this moment, their wild gasps melded together until they were one.
Only when release teetered too close to the edge did Cassian drop the rhythm. Cupped the breasts he had dreamed of more times than he could count. The breasts he’d had the privilege of seeing bare and glorious only twice before.
Capturing a nipple between his teeth, Cassian scraped his teeth hard enough that Nesta stopped rocking and angled her hips until he was pressing impossibly deep inside her. She whimpered. Clenched and unclenched. Throbbed in a way that told him she was as close as he was—that if he wasn’t so close himself, he could drive her over the edge with a few well-timed thrusts.
The understanding had him letting out a jagged groan. “Are you close, sweetheart?”
A whine in response, but Cassian didn’t let it go. He raked back the hair from her sweaty forehead. Pressed his lips to her swollen ones in a lingering kiss. Watched the frown that knitted her brow as she was overtaken by the feel of them.
“What do you need, Nesta. Tell me and I’ll give it to you.”
Nesta wound her hands around his head, buried her face into his neck. Began swaying and circling her hips in a rhythm that was dictated purely by the chase of pleasure. “Just… this,” she panted. “I just need this.”
Then it was only the licking fire of her breath against his skin. The magic that curled around them like a heated blanket and the building anticipation of both of their releases, which pulled at him like a strange sort of magnetism, begging him to fall with her in unison.
“Cassian—” Nesta began in warning, but he had already felt her begin to quake, as if the ground was moving beneath their feet—the mountains trembling.
That pull became a driving force—a cresting wave of pleasure so profound that Cassian felt that twist inside of him—that signal that he was about to join her.
He groaned, jerking his head back so it collided with wood, the pain grounding him enough that he could say, “That’s it, sweetheart. Come for me.”
As soon as the words left his lips, Nesta broke, as if she’d been waiting for him to ask it of her. Her cry was muffled and Cassian wanted to tear her mouth from his neck—to hear her break for him—but then she was sinking her teeth into his skin right over his pulse.
Roaring, Cassian kicked his hips up hard on instinct as she marked him, but the shock distracted him. Clouded the desperate clamber of his release so he could hold himself back.
Cassian held tightly onto Nesta as she slumped against him. When she lifted her teeth from him, Nesta whined like an animal. Dragged her tongue over the dent she’d made in his neck—once, twice, three times.
He shuddered. Couldn’t help it. Turned his face into her hair. Breathed her in. The gesture was tender, like an animal tending to the wound of a significant other—its mate.
And wrapped in this moment, Cassian could almost believe that this was something more than sex for Nesta as her forehead came to rest on his collarbone. As she kissed the hollow of his throat. Then the knot. His lips.
“Good?” Cassian asked softly. He lifted a hand to her face, ran a calloused thumb over her cheekbone.
Nesta made a rare, content sound that vibrated through him like a balm. She leant into his hand, her eyelashes swooping down.
When she finally pulled back to survey him, her eyes were still dark. She shifted her hips. Moaned quietly. Rasped, “You’re still hard.”
It was a miracle Cassian hadn’t followed. If it hadn’t been for her teeth in his neck, Cassian would have been wrestling with the embarrassment of finishing too soon.
“I was too preoccupied with your teeth in my neck.”
A flush crept its way up Nesta’s face, like vines reaching their wicked encroaching fingers up a wall. But she raised her chin. “You wanted me to do it.”
It was true, he had wanted her to. And he wanted to do the same to her—to mark her as his so everyone would know that she was off limits for the brief hours before her body healed.
“And what about you?”
The patter of Nesta’s heart broke into a sprint. It was the only thing that betrayed her feelings, her expression devoid of any reaction. “What do you mean?”
Cassian leant forward until their noses brushed. Lifted his eyebrows. “Do you want me to bite you, Nesta?”
Nesta’s nostrils flared. If she had wings, they’d have flung wide by now. Would have collided with furniture and cut through air.
That was answer enough.
In one movement, Cassian lifted himself up and over, until Nesta was on her back and he was pressing her body into the mattress. Breath gushed out of her lungs but it was not from fear, not as Nesta turned herself out bare and tilted her chin for him—for once not in defiance but as an act of vulnerability—of complete and utter trust.
Every instinct in Cassian clambered to the surface, but he closed a fist around it until its life fluttered against the cage of his palms and fingers: his to control, rather than the other way around.
Slowly, Cassian lowered his nose to the exposed skin and breathed her in: her scent and the life that pummelled beneath her skin, the roaring of her blood as it crashed through her veins. It took everything in him not to move inside of her, to thrust up hard and feel the way her breasts would move against his chest.
“I could do it right here,” Cassian murmured, his mouth ghosting over the pale column of her neck until he came across that pulse. He brushed a tongue across it.
The movement was a mirror of what he’d done before in the human realm and Nesta knew it. But this time she did not jerk back from him demanding what he’d done. Instead, her body drew up beneath him, exposing more of her neck, begging for more.
Cassian groaned, raking his teeth over that swell at the same time that he pushed in deep. Nesta’s groan was guttural and everything. His blood turned molten, so hot that he expected his skin to melt away until he was nothing but bones.
“Please,” Nesta panted, her fingers tightening around his back.
Another flick of his tongue over her pulse. “Do you want me to bite you or fuck you?”
That was enough to loosen the fist on Cassian’s control. He sat back on his knees, prying her hands from his neck, coaxing her fingers until they were above her head and clasped around the railings of the headboard. Nesta’s breasts rose with the movement, her peaked nipples so tempting he bent to take one into his mouth. Then the other. Suckled until she mewled and her nipples were no longer rosy but red from his attention.
Cassian lifted his head and surveyed Nesta. Warned her, “Hold on tight.”
And then there was no thinking, no worrying or desperation to hold back. It all came as easy as breathing, their tempo,the snap of his hips and the shift of the mattress as her body shouldered the impact. At some point, Cassian’s body fell over hers, needing to feel every inch of her against him. His wild, punishing rhythm dropped into a rough rocking that was intimate at the same time it was claiming.
Nesta didn’t seem to mind—let out a pleased moan of consent, her legs clamping tighter around his hips until they were flush with hers. When he next moved she whined, and Cassian felt that change inside of her—somehow—that twisting fist of pleasure that glimmered down the bond, pushing against the walls of that thread, pushing it wider and wider, like a heart expanding.
Silver-wreathed fingers tugged his head down until Nesta could claim his mouth, fusing them together so they were complete. Cassian shuddered as her fire cascaded from her fingertips and down his body. His magic, attracted to hers, began to suck out of his pores, but it didn’t leech him of power. Instead, it was like his magic was searching for its mate, desperate to be reunited.
Then that sensation again, as if Cassian had ducked beneath something and had come up for air somewhere else.
Ruby greeted silver like a long-lost lover, blending until their magic was a metallic sheen of scarlet—a fog that misted their bodies, rubbing tantalisingly against their skin as they rocked and moaned their way to release.
“Don’t stop,” Nesta begged desperately through stuttered breaths, and Cassian wondered how many times she’d reached this pinnacle with other males only for it to be taken from her.
Cassian’s hand found its way to her face, his thumb stroking over her cheek as that coiled release twisted across her devastatingly beautiful face. “Can’t,” he panted honestly, his other hand searching for hers across the mattress until he was clasping it—holding on for dear life. “I’m so close, sweetheart. You have no idea how good you feel.”
“Come with me then,” Nesta pleaded. Her eyelashes had fluttered downwards as she took in a sharp breath of pleasure, but now they opened. Stared deep into his soul. “Come with me—”
Then her body turned both loose and taut, clamping yet completely molten as her release ripped out of her.
“Fuck,” Cassian swore. Invisible hands clasped around his ass, tugging him deeper—deeper. Everything in him tightened as Nesta crashed around him, and that siren called to him, singing her name, over and over as pleasure clawed at him, desperate to whip out of him.
Nesta, Nesta, Nesta.
Cassian launched at her neck, his teeth sinking deep enough to claim as Nesta cried out, her body trembling as he continued to thrust into her, wringing out her release at the same time he desperately clambered towards his own.
He managed to pull out just in time, his teeth still deep in her neck, his release spilling hot onto her stomach in bursts of pleasure.
And even though Cassian had vowed to bite her and Nesta had already marked him, he found himself apologising at the red, angry dents in her skin. How was it that he couldn’t bare to hurt her but biting her neck was a completely different story?
“Sorry,” Cassian rasped. His mouth was as dry as a desert as he gingerly touched his fingers to the marks, but Nesta’s fingers clasped around his, halting him. Then she raised her other hand and brushed her knuckles over the identical marking on his. Reminding him that she’d done the same—had been the first to do it.
“I liked it,” Nesta admitted brazenly, but she didn’t stop him from dragging his tongue over the marks. Shivered instead. Held his head to her.
“That was intense,” Cassian rasped eventually against her ear, after the quiet had settled over them like a blanket. He nuzzled at her neck again, unable to help it—just one more precious moment like this until he had to pull away.
When Cassian pulled back to meet Nesta’s eyes, he found that the blue bled back into her irises. “It was always going to be intense,” she replied frankly.
Then Nesta looked down at her body, as if she’d only just remembered how he’d marked her in a different way. “You didn’t have to do that—pull out. I can take a tonic.”
Cassian hadn’t wanted to pull out at all—and neither had that tie which bound them together—but that wasn’t the point. “I’d rather be cautious,” he explained—a little too shortly, because Nesta bristled.
“Neither of us have had a tonic in a while,” Cassian elaborated when Nesta’s expression hardened.
He tried not to think about how his body had been desperate to spill inside of her. For him to press as deep as he possibly could until he was spent.
Climbing off of the bed, Cassian disappeared down the hallway and into the bathroom. When he returned, he was holding a wet towel.
“A while?” Nesta queried, picking up their conversation, as he began to clean her up.
Cassian cocked an eyebrow, but he didn’t dare meet her eyes lest she read him. His shoulders turned rigid at the thought. “Have you been sneaking people in and out of the bungalow that I’m not aware of?” he asked.
They both knew that Cassian would tear any male she brought back to the bungalow to pieces, but neither of them voiced it.
“You go back to Velaris,” Nesta accused. “You visit the other camps.”
For a moment, Cassian stared at her. Did she believe that he’d been fucking other fae? She had taunted him in Velaris the other day, but Cassian had thought that it was just their extended, agonising tussle of foreplay.
Perhaps you should go in search of some female company tonight.
Cassian managed to huff a breath, but it wasn’t one of amusement. He knew that his expression was steely as he said, “I told you that I don’t sleep with Illyrians. And I haven’t been fucking around in Velaris.”
From the way Nesta’s expression darkened, Cassian wasn't sure she believed him.
She opened her mouth to throw back a retort, but Cassian wanted the discussion to end. If she knew he’d barely touched another female since he’d met her, she’d run the other way. It was too intense a confession for someone who didn’t know what they wanted.
“It was self-inflicted,” Cassian supplied, his tone flinty enough to warn her that he wasn’t willing to discuss the subject any further.
Climbing off of the bed to further his point, Cassian extended a hand towards her. Banished any of the rigidity to his posture. “Come stand in the tub with me.”
There was a sinful promise behind the order. Already Cassian could envisage how he’d press Nesta against the tiles, his lips trailing open mouthed kisses as he kneeled before her—
Nesta must have thought similarly, because the pleasure that sparked in his stomach was not his own. But still she studied him, her head cocked as if she was trying to figure him out. Her hair was a muss of golden brown, her skin glistening with sweat that Cassian wanted to lick off.
Nesta parted her lips, taking stock, but Cassian didn’t allow her to speak. “I’ll make it worth your while,” he vowed. Meant it. Because already he was turning hard again, that desire to have her roaring.
He’d known this would happen. Knew that finally being inside of her wouldn’t sate him but stoke the embers into flames. But Cassian didn’t hide it—utterly unashamed of this need for her. From the way Nesta’s nostrils billowed, he knew she'd marked the change in his scent.
Nesta’s eyes flicked to his cock and the she-devil smirked, her lips curving in a way that had Cassian thinking about how they might wrap around him—how her tongue might feel, how warm she’d be…
In one supple movement, Nesta stood. Took his hand, her slim fingers threading around his large ones. Raised her chin and levelled him with a smoky blue gaze that promised wicked, wonderful things. “Then lead the way, general.”
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The Pull - A Nessian Fic(let?)
Rating: T, SFW
Next | Garden (Elucien) | Star of Spring
A/N: This is just something that I wrote instead of sleeping.
"How many times must I tell you?!"
Cassian did not answer for one, simple reason: confusion. Standing in the doorway to Nesta's room, watching her scowl and grumpily remove herself from the bed to stalk toward him, and waiting for her to come up for training always left his blood singing that had nothing at all to do with the lack of support and short length of Nesta's nightgowns. He did not know what Nesta had told him too many times, or rather, he didn't know what of many things he'd been ignoring that she was now referring to. Cassian had been told numerous times that minute to get out of her room. Cassian had been told numerous times that week to stop looking at her like that. Cassian had been told numerous times that month that she wouldn't be training with him—ever.
Luckily for him, Nesta wasn't the Seer.
He grinned down at Nesta as she tried to shove him out, flaring his wings slightly but otherwise remaining entirely immobile. Red light filtered through his wings, making her eyes seem to dance with molten fire. How could anyone be so beautiful? She touched his chest gently with one hand, looking up at him with parted lips and fluttering eyelashes. He caught her knee inches before it collided with his nether regions.
"You're getting predictable," he breathed, casually reaching out with his not occupied hand to pull a rogue strand of hair behind her delicately pointed ear. He wanted to sink his teeth into that ear. Desperately. He did not have the foresight or time to muffle his moan as Nesta reached out to touch his wing with light fingertips. He coughed out a curse and released her hair to grab her arm, warily keeping a hand to block any further attacks from her knees. She was getting better at distracting him long enough to be dangerous to him, and he really didn't appreciate it. (Or the fact that it kept working.) "No one ever taught you 'look, don't touch?'"
Nesta pulled her eyes away from the places she'd touched. Faint scars. Cassian didn't care. It proved he survived. And gave Nesta an excuse to touch him. She glanced down, "Feyre was right. You are sensitive little pricks."
"Nothing little about it," Cassian winked, risking release of her hand to brace himself on the upper part of the door frame, leaning closer to her. Nesta scowled at him. Cassian scented the shift in her as blood rushed to her cheeks. He didn't need Nesta's body though. He needed her and damn it if she wasn't more stubborn than his High Lady.
"If you're here to drag me up for more training, you may as well go jump off a cliff," Nesta turned and returned to the safety of her room. Cassian followed, brushing past her to open the thick curtains she kept over the windows. The door creaked slightly, closing slightly on a phantom wind.
"More? You haven't had any," Cassian said, unable to keep the cross tone from his voice.
"What of it? I'm still alive," Nesta challenged, raising an eyebrow at him. Cassian felt that surge he'd talked to Rhys about hit him harder than it had since Hybern's death. He decided to ignore it, as always.
"Luck will not carry you-"
"I'm Fae now, it's not like falling down the stairs might kill me-"
"Did I call you fragile?"
"You're an ass," she made a rude gesture that he wouldn't be surprised had passed from Rhys to Lucien to Elain to Feyre to her. He knew it as a predominantly Illyrian one, but he'd seen Lucien throw it before (mostly to him).
"If you're to be our Emissary, you need to able to defend yourself."
"I already am your Emissary, Cass," she said, her voice softening just slightly. It was a gentle reminder of the trip she'd be embarking on in just a few weeks. A trip Cassian would not be party to. "And considering Feyre was too busy enjoying Rhys to do her job very well, I'd say I'm the best you'll ever have." Cassian growled slightly at her words. Nesta waved her hand, "I'm sure her duties including a variety of activities that didn't involve Rhys in her bed-"
"Nesta," Cassian groaned, pulling a hand through his hair. "Please. Please, let me teach you how to defend yourself." He tried not to look scared or pleased as she approached him swiftly, standing up on her toes so her eyes weren't level with his chin for once. She rested an arm on his shoulder for balance. He ached to hook an arm around her waist, to hoist her up against him and spin and kiss her until the were both dizzy-
Cassian reminded himself that he was a warrior who was capable of killing many many people very quickly. Then he looked into her eyes and wished it all the same.
"You don't have to be scared for me," Nesta said quietly.
The dangerous line they had been toeing since they'd nearly died together had been tested and tested again after Nesta had finally stopped hiding in her room following the War. It happened every time she went out with the females with the specific task of finding her a male to bed and he waited for her to come home, and she did. She'd even kissed his cheek one night, after she drunkenly fell down the stairs and he carried her up to her room. The line had nearly fuzzed out completely when she found Cassian half naked and half asleep on the roof of the House of Wind, staring down at Velaris and waiting for the oh-so-exquisite sunrise. He'd had the drowsy nerve to kiss her then, too. It was never enough for the burning coursing through him the sparked at each of her gentle touches.
"Cassian?" She touched his chin gently.
"I'm in charge of making sure Rhys and Feyre's court can protect themselves. That includes you now and . . ." Cassian looked up to the ceiling for a second. "If something happens to you when I'm not there again, I . . . I don't know . . . what I'll do. To- to be with you again."
"You are far too overprotective and-"
"And you aren't mine to protect," Cassian mumbled. "But- When you were human, that shit male- and then with Hybern, if not for Elain-"
"Cassian," she brushed at his lip with her thumb. "Human males are called men." Cassian laughed lowly at this, shaking his head. Nesta's humor always came in such a fashion, always wildly unexpected and brutally simple. Cassian rested his forehead against hers after a long moment, chasing her gently as she dropped off her toes.
"Be careful," Cassian whispered.
"I'm not leaving for a while," Nesta murmured, her nose running along his for a moment.
Cassian lived for this collection of heartbeats. He lived for the scent of her pulling him slowly closer. He lived for the heat of her skin teasing his. He lived for the choice that was made as Nesta's eyes fluttered shut. He lived for the call in her blood as his roared. He'd never loved a female like this before. Usually it came after sharing a bed so many times she was no surprise. Nesta never failed to surprise him when it truly counted. He'd only been allowed the tiniest hint of a taste of her body. But there was something else, something other to her.
Nesta Nesta Nesta.
He kissed her, unable to wait any longer. It was lighter than a feather, a true testament to his tarnished self-control. He finally rested a hand on her lower back and tugged her closer.
Nesta, for all the lack of experience she claimed, had an Archeron tongue. He'd heard enough of Rhys' muttering and Lucien's bleary, drunken rants to have some hint of this familial brand of magic. It was very different to experience it, with Nesta tugging on his hair and making delicious sounds into his mouth. He couldn't touch her enough, couldn't breathe enough. Cassian had no idea how long it was until they parted.
"If you had any brains, you'd threaten to leave me if I don't train with you," Nesta said quietly. Cassian's first answer was lost as he shuddered; she was touching his wings again. He buried his head in her neck, slowly moving upwards to her perfect ears. He could feel every moan vibrate through her as she leaned into him.
"Even I don't have the restraint for that," Cassian breathed into her ear. Before she could answer he bit her earlobe gently. That was one thing to knock off his to-do list. Although, he may very well have to put it back on, just for the little gasp Nesta made.
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If you’re as starved for acotar content as me, hopefully you’ll appreciate this established-relationship modern au kinky nessian getting it on. porn without plot. (:
I almost don’t hear him come up behind me, the party’s so loud. But I feel him when he presses up against me, his hands gripping my hips, his lips light against my shoulder. His cock hard on my ass.
I turn around in his arms. “What brought this on?”
Instead of answering, he catches my lips in a kiss. It’s slow, easy, and incongruent with how turned on he clearly is.
I break from him just slightly, enough to lick his lips once before asking again, “Cas?”
“I need you,” he says. Practically a growl, how low his voice is. “Now.”
There’s barely time to grab his hand before he’s ducking down the nearest hallway in search of a room. We weave between people until he finds an unlocked door and drags me inside.
I’m on top of him before he can even shut the door all the way, instantly turned on by the way he wants me this badly. I kiss him hard, arms around his neck, and let my tongue slip into his mouth.
He pulls back after almost a full minute of this and glances over my shoulder. When I turn, I’m startled to see a few of the guests lounging on the couch across from the bed, watching us. I flush, about to turn around and leave, but Cassian closes the door behind us.
“Cas?” I ask again, softly.
He dips his mouth toward my ear and bites my earlobe once before whispering, “I want you so bad, Nesta.”
But the guests don’t look like they particularly mind. And neither does Cassian. I look up at him rather than finishing my protest and find his eyes hard, jaw set, as he looks at me.
“Strip,” he commands. His voice is so low, so rough, that I kick off my shoes before registering what he’s said.
“Get your clothes off,” he says, reaching up to grab my chin and hold my face up towards his. “Now.”
I try to glance over at the guests watching, but Cassian’s grip on my face is too hard to break. His hand moves to my throat. “Do I have to tell you again?”
After a breath, I shake my head. “No, Cassian.”
“Good,” he says sharply, releasing me.
I pull my shirt over my head and drop it beside me. Unbutton my jeans, unzip, and, after a look up at the guests watching me with interest, slide the denim down my legs and off onto the ground.
“Good girl,” Cassian says, startling me.
His voice is so smooth, now. I like the sound of his praise. I want to hear it again.
“Look at you, standing there in your bra and panties. People are watching you, Nesta. There’s a whole party outside the door. And you’re wearing next to nothing.”
If the praise felt good, it’s nothing compared to this. The way he chides. I can feel his voice low in my stomach, between my legs. It’s so hot I’m struggling to breathe.
He interrupts my thoughts with a strong grip around my neck. I try to gasp, instinctively, but he’s almost blocking my airway. “Did I tell you to stop?” he asks, dangerously quietly.
I shake my head — I can’t form words.
He releases me again. “Well?”
The straps of my bra are off before I get a whole breath in. I don’t want to upset him. I want to be good for him. I unclasp the back and let my bra fall to the floor. Then I hook my thumbs in the lace of my panties and slide them down my legs. Once they reach my ankles, I step out.
“Look at you,” Cassian says again. My eyes snap to him. “The door isn’t even locked, and you’re totally naked. Totally exposed.”
I don’t even have the mental faculties to cover myself — it’s like he has me hypnotized. I’m hanging on his every word.
“Come here,” he says. I do. I can feel their eyes on me while I walk. He leans down slightly to whisper into my ear and turns me back around to face the couch. “Look at them watching you. You’re naked in a stranger’s bedroom, with all those people outside, and these strangers watching you.”
I can actually feel the wetness between my thighs, the way I’m throbbing at the thought of them seeing me like this. Cassian can tell. He wraps his arms around me from behind and starts playing with my nipples, rolling them between his fingers. I gasp.
“Oh? You like this?” he asks.
I nod against his shoulder. My eyes want to fall closed but I can’t stop looking at the guests on the couch. They’re making eye contact with me while Cassian plays with my breasts. They can hear every time my breath shakes in response to his fingers.
“Dirty girl,” he chides. “Showing yourself off to strangers.”
I can’t help but moan. I can feel how hard he is behind me, the way his cock presses against my ass.
“Such a slut for me,” he says, somehow both mocking and approving. “Does it turn you on?”
Oh, he knows it does, but I whisper a shaky “yes” for him anyway, at the risk of his hand coming back up to my neck.
“You like letting people see what a slut you are? How you’ll do anything for me?”
I nod, and he releases my nipples only to palm my breasts in his hands, digging his fingers into my skin.
“I asked you to strip and you did it. No questions. You like them knowing that you have to do what I say?”
I moan again, my legs shaking. I want so badly for him to move his hands lower, but I also can’t bear to be the one to start touching myself with these strangers watching.
“You like them knowing that you belong to me? That I own you? I can do whatever I want with you, Nesta.”
“Fuck,” I whisper.
He pulls away from my ear and, abruptly, shoves me toward the bed. I catch myself on the edge of the mattress. “Lay down.”
Desperate, now, to be good for him, I climb onto the bed and lay on my back. I turn my face toward him, but he isn’t even looking at me.
“Spread your legs.” His face is expressionless. Like he’s bored. Fuck.
Tentatively, knowing the guests at the end of the bed are watching, I spread my legs for Cassian. Then I watch as he approaches the couch and, with his back to me, whispers something to the guests. Wordlessly, they get up and walk out of the room. Cassian follows slowly, leisurely, and locks the door behind them.
Then he turns to me, lying with my legs spread on the bed. “Good girl, just waiting there for me. Doing everything I said. You’re such a good slut for me.”
“Yeah?” I ask, a small thrill racing through my body at the praise.
“Mmm,” he agrees, approaching the bed. “Letting them watch you. Letting them see how you belong to me.”
I nod, to be good. I am. “Tell me what you are,” he says, tipping my chin up toward him with two fingers. He’s still dressed and it makes me feel so exposed, so bare before him. He hasn’t let me close my legs yet, and I can see him glance down at the wetness between them.
"Desperate,” I try, hoping this will satisfy him.
He smirks. I can’t stop my hips from rolling once in response to this. He hasn’t even touched me and I feel close, so warm and wet and exposed.
“Please,” I say, trying to keep my desperation out of my voice.
He hears it anyway, of course. “Oh, you want it so bad, don’t you, baby? You need me.”
“Yes,” I say. “Fuck. Yes. I need you.”
“What do you want?” he asks.
“I want you to touch me. Please. I need you so bad. I’m so fucking wet for you, Cassian.”
“I know,” he says, smiling a little. It feels mocking, and I feel a throb in my core in response. “What else do you want.”
I can see his cock straining against his jeans. “You. I want you so bad, Cas. Please.”
“Yeah?” he takes off his shirt in one smooth motion, like it’s a reward for my begging. “How’s that? Enough?”
I shake my head, my throat dry. “Please touch me, Cassian.”
“God, your voice,” he says. “So desperate for me. Desperate slut. You need my fingers on you.”
He lets his fingers trail over my skin, from my breast down my stomach to my thighs. But he doesn’t stop where I want him to, and I nearly sob with anticipation. Then he pulls his hands away and unbuttons his own jeans, inching them down his legs just slightly so I can see the distinct outline of his cock through his briefs.
“I haven’t even touched you yet,” he says. “Not once.”
I can feel my face flush again; he can see how badly I need him despite his refusal to touch me. Then, just once, he slides a finger through the wetness between my legs. I gasp as my hips thrust up toward his hand. He smiles, watching me.
“You want to be good, don’t you, baby? You want to make me happy?”
He smirks. “So enthusiastic.”
“Please, Cas, let me be good for you —”
“Suck my cock.”
I inhale sharply. He isn’t going to let me come. He isn’t —
“What are you waiting for?” He grabs the back of my head and jerks my face toward his dick. “You just said you want to be a good slut for me. So do it.”
Shaking, I turn over and slide both his waistbands off. Playfully, I lick a line up the underside of his cock.
Cassian moans and tightens his grip on my hair. “I said, suck my cock, Nesta.”
I deep throat him.
After he recovers, he releases the back of my head and lets me move on my own. “Good girl. Thank you. Just like that.”
For the short time it lasts, I worry he’s going to make me make him come before he’ll even begin to touch me.
But he doesn’t. After about five minutes of my mouth working his cock, my eyes straining up to meet his because I know how much he likes that, he pulls me off and flips me onto my back on the bed. He climbs on top of me and kisses me once, hard. It turns into a long, deep kiss, his tongue in my mouth, the hand he isn’t using to hold himself up gently working my breast.
“Do you think you deserve to come now?”
“Please,” I beg. “I do. I’ve been so good for you.”
“Yes you have,” he says, a smile on his lips. “So good. Such a dirty girl for me.”
And then his fingers are, finally, between my legs. I don’t stop moaning — not the first time he makes me come, not the second or third, and not for every time after, even when I’ve lost count and the ability to speak.
I only emerge from the fog of the orgasms he’s giving me when he slides his cock inside me without warning. I yelp, gripping his biceps, but he doesn’t even wait before he starts fucking me.
And once he finishes, I don’t think I’ll be able to walk the rest of the night.
for anyone who has read my other nessian works (under fics tab) and might be interested: @togreblog @propshophannah @lu-cien@sparkleywonderful @illyrianazriel @illyriantremors @asteria-astraeus @valamerys @blogtealdeal @sarah-bae-maas @immortal-awesomeness @meabhd @cresseida @madswagswaggers @azrielsiphons @modernbookfae @urban-skys @rowanismybae @its-suriel @foreverlovingthenightskies @sashby93@majornerdess @astronautrabbit @isiled @2-bookmaster-2 @aurora-sleeping-killer @fanfic-masterpost-site @wolffrising @always-love-your-self @queen-of-the-night-court @ships-and-saints @xjellllx @nightlark-naitohibari @yalenayardeen @stripesandpolkadot @highkey-nerd
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A Favor: Part Twenty-Three
Nessian Modern AU
a/n: so yeah this isn’t my best work bc i havent been feeling great lately but i hope you guys can stay patient with me until i get my shit together. we’re almost to the end🤞
Sitting crammed between Elain and Feyre on the gray couch in Lana’s office, Nesta has to cross her legs prettily and pretend she doesn’t want to peel out of her skin right there. She doesn’t know what she was thinking when she invited her sisters to one of her therapy sessions, but she’s assuming it would be considered rude to kick them out now.
“Who wants to speak first?” Lana’s bob swings as she looks at each of them. The office is ice cold today, and Feyre and Elain’s presence doesn’t help the chill in the air.
Nesta crosses her arms before she can be asked to speak. “No, thank you,” she says. She knows everyone probably expects better from her, but no way in hell is she going to be the first to open up in front of this crowd. “Feyre,” she turns to her youngest sister instead, “why don’t you say something?”
“Actually, why don’t you set the example, Nesta?” Lana gives her a look, making her cheeks redden with irritation.
“Fine,” Nesta grumbles. She clears her throat. “As you can see, I have made moves to reconnect with my sisters. I invited them here because I hoped that therapy would bring us closer and also make them more… tolerable.”
Elain coughs, “Bitch.”
Nesta smiles tightly. “Elain could especially use this, I think.”
Lana is already frowning. She never frowns this early into a session. “We’ll start with an easy question, then. What’s been on your mind lately, Nesta?”
Nesta purses her lips, pretending to think. “Nothing important. I’m looking at jobs for the summer. I think Azriel keeps sneaking money into my purse, and it’s starting to become more than a little condescending. I caught up with some friends from school, and I was polite enough to pay for lunch.” She mentions off to the side to Elain, “Lucien was there, too.”
“Why would I care?” Elain sneers. She spies Lana’s disapproving look and lowers her head demurely. “Sorry,” she murmurs.
“That’s alright,” Lana says. “Why don’t you go next?”
“Me?” Elain’s head snaps up, and Nesta holds in her snicker.
“Start by describing your relationship with Nesta. I heard you two used to be very close.” Lana uncaps her pen, preparing to write.
Elain flushes lightly and folds her hands. “That was when we were children. The only thing keeping us together was that we shared a home. When we stopped living in the same place, some of us had no problem leaving others in the dust.”
“You can use my name,” Nesta rolls her eyes, “I’m right here.”
From the corner of her vision, Feyre cringes.
“Are you saying you feel abandoned by Nesta?” Lana continues probing.
Elain’s answering silence tells more than enough. Therapy must actually be paying off, though, because Nesta only thinks about interrupting and defending herself for a second before shaking it off. Her mind focuses on the word abandonment instead.
Lana is focusing on the same thing, because she leans closer and says, “Being abandoned bothers you?”
“I never said that,” Elain says indignantly.
“It would bother most people.”
Nesta watches Elain sigh and blink her big doe eyes at Lana. She’s always been able to use those eyes on anybody for anything. “I just don’t understand why I’m the villain for expecting a little loyalty,” Elain says sweetly. “Especially when you take a look at this face.” She cups her round cheeks. “You know psychology. How could you abandon this face?”
Nesta’s jaw hangs open. “Are we still talking about me?” She remembers Cassian telling her the story behind Azriel ghosting Elain, and a pang of guilt and pity hits her. She still hasn’t talked with Elain about why Azriel left Velaris, and she knows she won’t be able to decide whether to spare Az or not until she does.
“So that’s my turn,” Elain finishes up. “Feyre can go next.”
Lana is writing something sharply on her notepad, but she nods coolly. “Feyre, how would you describe your relationship with your sisters?”
“Oh, we don’t have time for all of that,” Feyre laughs awkwardly and waves a hand.
Nesta agrees, but the look Lana gives Feyre tells her that yes, they do have time.
Gulping, Feyre glances around. “Well, I was born last, so I guess that made me the outsider of the family. I never had much in common with my sisters, but now that we’re older I… hoped that we would grow past that.”
Translation: she hoped that once she found her happy ending in Rhysand’s arms, poor little Nesta and Elain would happily assimilate into her new community of wealthy friends, putting the cherry on top of her perfect life. And while Elain did that exact thing, it’s always bothered Feyre that Nesta won’t do the same.
Feyre continues, “I admit I’m not the best at understanding Nesta. Elain and I get along fine now, but Nesta…” Feyre meets her eyes. “It’s like nothing we do is enough for her, but for some reason I can’t stop trying.”
“Whose fault is that?” Nesta mutters.
“You want her approval,” Lana hums, taking notes.
“Is that what it is?” Feyre looks away.
Nesta refrains from saying yes, that’s exactly what it is, and it’s not my problem if you keep looking for something I can’t give.
“What are your feelings about that, Nesta?” Lana turns her focus to her. “Remember that this is a safe space.”
It really isn’t, not with two siblings holding long term grudges against Nesta. But once and for all, she’s going to set the record straight. “I spent most of my life being a bad sister.” Nesta’s voice is apathetic, straightforward. “I let Feyre take the burden of providing for us even though I was the oldest, and I didn’t know how to be anything other than cruel to my family. So once I had the means to do so, I cut everyone off for all of our sakes. I still don’t regret it, because being a stranger is better than being a bad sister.”
In that way, Nesta is a bit like her mother. Nesta was angry after her death, but she knows she would have been even angrier if Magdalene Archeron had lived and continued to be a disappointing parent. In that way, both of them are wise for leaving their families when they did.
“Or you could just be a good sister,” Elain interrupts with a drawl.
Nesta smirks bitterly at her. “I’d rather die.”
Feyre takes in a breath. “Why? Why are you like that with us?” She blinks furiously, and Nesta can see the simmer of her emotions. “It was okay when we thought you hated everybody, but you don’t. You only hate me and Elain.”
Nesta looks to Lana for help, but her therapist is sitting this one out. She sighs through her nose. “I don’t hate you,” she says, even though they might never understand. The next line comes with great difficulty. “I’ve loved you since before I even knew what love was. But I don’t like you very much, Feyre, and you don’t like me, either. Please stop trying to change that.”
When she finally meets Feyre’s eyes, though, they’re glimmering with tears. “How can I stop trying to change that?” Feyre whispers. “How can I give up on us like that?”
For Nesta to give Feyre and Elain the relationship they want from her would require nothing but lies on her part. And as much as she wishes she was capable of lying about this, she can’t do it.
Looking away and down at her hands, Nesta mutters, “It’s not fun for me either, but it’s how I am. I can’t be easy or friendly with you. I hate watching you try to make me be easy or friendly.”
Nobody says anything to that, but when Nesta looks up again Lana gives her a remote nod that Feyre and Elain don’t catch. Thank you for your vulnerability, it says.
“You said something interesting, Nesta,” Lana breaks the silence. “Did you see your sisters as your responsibility to raise?”
Nesta shrugs. “I was the oldest,” she repeats.
“Your father was the oldest.”
“He wouldn’t do shit even if you held a gun to his head, so I was up next.” Though Nesta hadn’t done shit either. Neither had Elain, but the rules have always been different for her. Elain redeems herself to others by handing out sunny smiles and pretending to have the intelligence of a fawn.
Lana stares at Nesta until Nesta’s skin starts to heat. “What?” she says defensively.
Ignoring the other two women in the room, Lana leans forward. “You told me once early into our relationship that part of the reason you left Tennessee was to get away from your sisters. You said you were heartbroken when they ended up following you here.”
Nesta doesn’t breathe or look to see her sisters’ reactions.
“Now I’m going to ask: did you really want to get away from your sisters, or did you want to escape the feeling of failing them?”
Nesta doesn’t know how to answer, because to her they might as well be the same thing. Having Feyre and Elain around is like having a weight tied to her chest. The lingering guilt every time Feyre is in a room, her existence screaming I’m the reason you’re still alive. Elain’s constant expectations of unconditional support and loyalty, whether it’s reciprocated or not. It’s all so heavy. And it all goes back to the fact that the three of them were once just helpless children.
If she couldn’t take care of her sisters, how is she supposed to take care of any child, ever?
Nesta releases a weary sigh. “You’re going to bring this up the next time we have the baby talk, aren’t you?”
Lana’s eyes sparkle. “Don’t get ahead of yourself just yet.” But Nesta can see from where she sits that her therapist’s notepad is covered in bullet points.
“I need to use the bathroom.” Feyre is hopping back and forth on her feet once the session is over. “You guys head down to the parking lot without me.” She exits in a rush, leaving the two sisters alone. Nesta hisses in frustration, nearly chasing after Feyre so she won’t have to face the inevitable awkward conversation with Elain.
By the end of the session, it was Elain that broke and pleaded with Nesta, “Don’t do everything we want, then. Just keep doing better, the way you’ve already been doing. I’ll be happy with just that.”
Nesta was surprised that Elain had even noticed her efforts, but she retorted, “And how do you plan to do better?”
To which Elain twirled her hair and murmured something halfheartedly about, “I might be more open to taking criticism or whatever.”
Though it was the absolute bare minimum, it was still a relief for Nesta to hear Elain admit that she has flaws worth criticizing.
Now, Nesta clutches the straps of her purse and turns for the stairwell leading to the parking lot. Elain follows without comment.
Inside the stairwell, Nesta asks, “Have you spoken to Azriel since he left Velaris?”
Elain looks surprised at the sudden question, and doesn’t remember to be guarded when she answers, “No. Why?”
Nesta shrugs, her heels thumping loudly on the linoleum stairs. “Because I know what happened between you two. I know why he left.”
Elain halts midstep, grabbing Nesta’s arm and turning to face her with wide eyes. “What do you mean, you know? He told you?”
“He told Cassian, and Cassian told me.” Nesta hardly cares that she’s being a poor friend to Azriel by spilling all this to Elain, and continues, “If I had known he was such a coward, I would have kicked him out of our place a long time ago… but I figured I would get your input on it first.”
She’s never seen Elain look so genuinely pleading before. “Get my input on what?” Elain breathes. “What did he say about me? Was it something I did?”
At that torn face that borders on heartbroken, Nesta decides that she’ll do more than kick Azriel out of the cabin. She’ll kick him off the whole mountain.
She shoves Elain’s back to get Elain detached from her and moving down the stairs again, and as they walk, Nesta spills everything she knows. She tells Elain about Rhysand’s talent of shoving his nose into places it doesn’t belong, and how one conversation with him managed to convince Azriel to ditch Elain for good. She tells her about how instead of having a straightforward conversation with Elain, Azriel chose to leave the city and hide out in the mountains like a pussy. She might sound blunt, but Elain needs blunt. She needs to know the unfiltered truth of things.
By the time they reach the floor where their cars are parked, Elain is silent. “Did he really say that?” she finally asks quietly. “He said he wants me to hate him?”
“That’s what I heard.” After a moment, Nesta feels the need to add, “You should hate him, though. He fucked up bad.”
When Elain continues strolling for their cars without replying, concern bites at Nesta. “You are mad at him, right? And mad at Rhysand? You’re not going to forgive them, right?”
“I’m not a total pushover,” Elain snaps. She stares at the cement ground as they walk. “I’m just… more disappointed than anything else. He gave up so easily.” She chuckles without humor. “It sounds like he was looking for an excuse to get away from me.”
Nesta frowns. “I don’t think he would’ve spent so long moping around our house if he wanted to leave you.” Though they can never truly know what Azriel was thinking or feeling until he grows a pair and talks to Elain. Still, she shudders at having to defend him.
“I take it he doesn’t mope anymore?” Elain says.
Nesta doesn’t know how to answer that truthfully. She knows there’s more to Azriel than he lets her and Cassian see, and she knows he’s gotten better at keeping his feelings to himself. So she says, “It looks like he’s doing better, but I really don’t know.” They reach Elain’s car.
“Were you in love with him?” Nesta suddenly asks. Or worse, is she still in love with him?
Elain digs around for her keys in her purse. “You know how I am. Of course I was.”
“Not anymore, though?”
Elain looks up, keys now in hand. “It’s hard to still feel love for someone I haven’t talked to in two months.”
Then it wasn’t real love. Nesta is relieved, even though it doesn’t change the fact that Elain is hurting either way.
Elain jabs her keys at Nesta and says sharply, “Don’t you dare punish him for what he did. That’s for me to decide on.”
Nesta’s brow creases in refusal. “I’ll do what I need to do, and you do you.” She’ll have to be careful with her plotting, though, considering Azriel is Cassian’s brother.
“No.” Elain surprises Nesta with the force in her tone. “He’s your roommate and your friend. Keep treating him like it.”
Elain makes it sound easier than it is, and Nesta wants to argue until she sees Feyre heading down the parking lot toward them. “Fine,” she grumbles halfheartedly.
Elain gives her one final long look, not of threat but something else. “Thank you—for inviting us today.” That’s all she says before getting in the driver’s seat of her little red car. At the same time, Feyre catches up to them.
“Where are you parked?” Feyre pants as she approaches Nesta. She sounds a bit out of breath, like she ran to get here before Nesta could drive off alone.
Nesta points down the lot to where her scrappy old car is waiting for her, and Feyre straightens up with a grim smile. “I’ll walk you.”
Nesta knows that arguing isn’t worth it, so she allows Feyre to trail her the rest of the way to her car. Once they reach the old thing, Nesta gives a curt goodbye and heads straight for the driver’s door. Before she can touch the handle, Feyre attacks her from behind with a hug.
“Get off me, freak!” Nesta tries to jostle her way out of Feyre’s arms. She tries being nice to her sisters one time and this is what she gets—
Feyre only squeezes her tighter. “You don’t have to hug back. Just let me love you my way.”
Nesta squirms for another second before stilling. Swallowing tightly, she stares at the reflection of herself and Feyre in the car door window. One of her hands goes to where Feyre’s hands are clasped around her stomach, and she stands there without moving. She can’t remember the last time she shared affection with a family member like this, but it must have been before their mother died.
The warmth at Nesta’s back doesn’t leave, like Feyre is trying to pour all her understanding into the hug. Silently saying, I’m finally starting to get it.
In a way, Nesta is starting to get it, too. After all, how do sisters with such a complicated history begin to forgive each other?
Not by apologizing, but by doing better in the future.
On her way home, Nesta remembers at the last minute to stop by Gwyn’s apartment to pick up one of her sweaters. She doesn’t know when Gwyn started raiding her closet like it was a free mall, but she has a school event next week and doesn’t plan on letting her nicest clothes rot at Gwyn’s forever.
Nesta enters using the key beneath the doormat, knowing Gwyn is at work and won’t mind her stopping by. She scans the living and dining areas for a glimpse of brown cashmere, but only finds scattered books and a disorganized mess. Her fingers twitch with the urge to stop and tidy up the place, but she continues hunting for the sweater. Gwyn promised it would be waiting in plain sight for her.
Realizing the scatter-brained girl probably forgot to put the sweater out for her, Nesta pauses in the hallway leading to Gwyn’s bedroom and bites her lip. She doesn’t know if bedrooms are off limits or not, considering how often Gwyn and Emerie have barged into hers, but she knows she doesn’t want to make a second trip here just for a sweater.
Without giving it further thought, she strides into Gwyn’s room—
And yelps to find Gwyn on the bed.
Except she isn’t alone, and there’s definitely another body under the dark green blanket with her, and whoever it is definitely has their head between her legs.
Nesta spins away at the same time she hears Gwyn’s cry of surprise. She braces one hand against the doorjamb and presses the other to her freezing cold face, not having any words for what she just saw.
“Nesta?” Gwyn calls from behind her. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Um, have you seen my sweater? It’s the expensive one.” She’ll just grab it and leave. Or maybe she’ll just leave—yes, that sounds like a good idea.
“Nesta?” a new, deeper voice repeats.
Gwyn hisses, and Nesta freezes because she recognizes that voice. She wants to be wrong so badly, but she has to whirl back around to confirm for herself.
a/n: i decided to cut this chapter short and add an extra one to flesh out my silly little gwynriel subplot. so if there’s anything specific or random you wanna see happen in the next chapter tell me bc i might have space for prompts!!
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