enna, today

“You’re late.”

Tamlin smelled him before he saw him, potent like the wind on a starlit sea. Tentatively, Tamlin undid his bandolier of knives and set it on the credenza. He thought about taking a blade, if only to palm the cool metal as a grounding tool. “What are you doing here?”

The High Lord of Night turned from the unlit fireplace to face him, his violet eyes glowing bright under the dim candlelight. Rhysand brought his chalice to his pink lips and took a slow sip from it. Tamlin watched as the apple of his throat bobbed, his black collared shirt unbuttoned at the top and exposing his tan, smooth skin. “Don’t play dumb, Tamlin. We both know why we’re here.” Rhysand smirked, setting his cup down on the table.

Thunder roared outside, shaking the little dilapidated shack they were in. A storm was on the horizon, a slight reprieve for the harsh heat of Summer. Even at night, sweat trickled down Tamlin’s spine in beads. Pulling off his tunic, he walked closer to Rhysand, the golden cords of his muscles flexing tight against his skin. “Let’s get to business, then.”

Rhysand chuckled lowly. “No niceties? Have we grown so far beyond sweet talk?” He ran a finger across Tamlin’s chest, a trail of heat following his touch. “What happened to us, Tam? We used to be so close.”

Tamlin fought the urge to back away, anger simmering in his blood. The Spring male let out a deep breath, knowing that leaving would only make matters worse. “You happened, Rhysand,” Tamlin said through gritted teeth. “You ruined my life.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Rhysand tsked, circling the male. “Everything that happened to you was of your own doing.”

“And the bargain you forced upon me? That was my fault, as well?” Tamlin stayed still, his emerald gaze burning a hole into the wooden wall.

Rhysand paused at his back, a sharp talon trailing down his spine. “You should know better than to make deals with Night, Tam.” Sinister was his voice, a burning whisper. Tamlin tried to ignore the fluttering in his stomach, the reaction conjured up from the bargain. He hated the Night Court male, hated everything he’d done to him and yet…

Tamlin couldn’t stay away from Rhysand.

“You know I wasn’t in the right headspace when you petitioned the bargain,” Tamlin growled, whipping around to face Rhysand. “You got into my mind, you preyed on me like the monster you are. And you did the same with Feyre.”

Rolling his eyes, Rhysand backed up a step, leaning his body against the teak-wood table. “We agreed not to speak of her while we’re here,” he said casually, examining his manicured nails, the elongated talons retracted back into his skin. “You act like this wasn’t something you wanted, something that you still want. The attraction has always been there, Tam, the bargain just makes us act on it.”

•

The bargain had been a fool’s dream. When Tamlin was a young male, just maturing into his own skin, Rhysand had been an advisor of sorts. He taught Tamlin how to fight, and helped him understand his magic. When their family affairs grew too much to bear, they found a friendship within it all, bonding over their own respective ailments. And then, between it all, feelings came about. Feelings that Tamlin had never experienced before, feelings that Rhysand, like usual, knew far more about.

They rejected themselves for a while, neither one really ready to dive into the more intimate side of their desires. It drove Tamlin mad; the mutual scent of arousal, the violet eyes he could not quit dreaming about, the phantom touches he wished would manifest into reality. Ultimately, it panned out to be far too much for either male to handle, so they came to an agreement. Or, as the Night Court likes to put it: a bargain, solidified by the matching black stars they shared behind their left ears.

Once a year they would meet at their sanctuary, once a year they would give into the temptations and feed their needs. Once a year, until the other found a companion to meet their needs, they would find each other and reenact that dance they knew far too well.

At the time, Tamlin shook on it without hesitation, the young buck not seeing the eventual ramifications of making a life-long deal with the devil. He could not see past the needy ache in his cock, his arousal clouding his judgment and all of his senses.

Never in a million years could he see how fundamentally wrong his relationship with Rhysand would get, how badly the male would continuously fuck him over. But now, he knew where he went wrong. Hindsight was something he wished he had four hundred years ago.

•

Rain began pelting the roof, the sound loud and rambunctious on the tin. It was Tamlin’s idea to build here all of those years ago, on the outskirts of Summer and far from the fineries of their respective homes. Originally, it was a way for them to have privacy, to be free of any onlookers and have a place that was entirely their own. Now, the shack was more of a hindrance than anything else. A curse built by his own hands.

However, his heart still lived here, buried behind the walls they put up together. Tamlin often wondered if tearing the hovel down splinter by aggravating splinter would return it to him, but deep down, he knew the truth. It would never be his again. His heart hadn’t truly belonged to him in over four centuries.

Tamlin leaned into the male, their chests touching. As lighting struck nearby—brightening the room for a split second—heat flashed down Tamlin’s body as he beheld the sight before him. In all of his glory, the male could have been more handsome with his wind swept black hair and strong chiseled jaw, his lips in a lazy grin. The ever growing ache between Tamlin’s legs was begging for release.

“Let us act on it then and put an end to my misery.” Tamlin pressed a kiss to Rhysand’s neck, his hands moving to the male’s half-buttoned shirt. Swiftly, he tore the material into shreds, exposing Rhysand’s tawny skin, the male’s muscles tight underneath.

“Your misery or mine?” Rhysand shuttered as Tamlin ran his claws down his stomach, and toyed with his waistband. “We are the same, a mirror of the other,” he continued. A hand found its way to the back of Tamlin’s skull, the fingers tangling in his golden hair. Rhysand pulled Tamlin’s head to him until they were eye-to-eye and said lowly, “As we always have, let’s pretend to be mates for the night.”

Without another word, Tamlin hoisted Rhysand onto the table, the wood groaning underneath the male’s weight. One of these days, the poor thing will surely give way, leaving them in a messy heap on the floor. Tamlin’s mouth found Rhysand’s, the taste of citrus and dark liquor heavy on his lips. Tamlin groaned at the familiarity of their bodies pressed against each other, a thick haze filling his brain at the scent, at the taste.

Gods, he needed to fuck him.

Tamlin undid Rhysand’s trousers, his lengthy cock springing free as he slid the pants down past his thighs. Hastily, Rhysand untied the strings on Tamlin’s trousers, his thick girth leaping out as if magnetically drawn to the male below him. Thunder roared outside, Tamlin’s groans matching the resonance as Rhysand palmed him, gliding his hand up and down Tamlin’s cock in a hurry, the sound of his wet slickness loud in the air.

Just when that sweet release was on the horizon, Tamlin removed himself from Rhysand’s hold. “Enough,” Tamlin growled, lifting Rhysand’s legs onto his shoulders and positioning himself against the male. “I’m going to send you home filled with my seed.” He bent down, nipping at the soft skin of Rhysand’s neck and eliciting a loud moan from the male. “Maybe then you’ll think about your old friend in a better light.”

And then, Tamlin pushed into Rhysand, his opening tight and warm and so, so familiar to him. There was no easing in, no tenderness, not when it came to them. Tamlin pushed and pushed into that tightness, his claws digging into the male’s hips until he was bottomed out, his balls pressed hard against Rhysand’s skin.

“Oh, fuck, Tamlin,” Rhysand breathed out through moans. “You did always know how to please me.”

Slowly, Tamlin removed himself until only his tip remained inside. “Such a shame, isn’t it?” Tamlin muttered, thrusting himself fully into Rhysand. “All of these years gone by and we still haven’t found better lovers.”

Rhysand wrapped his arms around Tamlin’s back, pulling him in closer, deeper. Tamlin hissed as Rhysand sank his teeth into his neck, the pain only adding to the pleasure of it. “Fine lover or no, you would still find your way here year after year.” Rhysand chuckled darkly, licking up the small trail of blood. A shiver skittered down Tamlin’s spine, the words far truer than he’d care to admit.

Relentlessly, Tamlin thrusted into Rhysand, over and over, his balls slapping against Rhysand’s skin, and his taut stomach rubbing incessantly against Rhysand’s cock. Their moans filled the shack, the only sound of life on their little peninsula. The Night male was the first to go, his hot cum spurting up their stomachs and chests, mixing with their glistening sweat. Through his ecstasy, Rhysand clenching tightly around him was Tamlin’s undoing. Pleasure rocked through his body as he unleashed into the male, his fresh seed seeping out of the High Lord as Tamlin filled him to the brim.

Tamlin lay slack against Rhysand, their chests rising and falling together in quick breaths. Neither male moved nor spoke as they let themselves recharge. The first round was always the most intense, the year’s worth of buildup desperately clawing to get out. After the initial orgasm—when they were well acquainted with each other again—they could take their time and really savor it.

And with the night being young, the males had plenty of time to devour one another.

•

Tears lining his violet eyes, Rhysand looked up from his position between Tamlin’s legs. With his mouth wrapped around his cock, Tamlin played with the tips of Rhysand’s wings, drawing idle, tantalizing circles around the dark scales.

Moaning, Rhysand bobbed his head up and down Tamlin’s length. Wet, sloppy noises filled the room, mixing with the light pitter-patter of rain falling on the roof. A peaceful scenery in Summer, if not for the debauchery happening inside the shack.

The back of Rhysand’s throat vibrated against him and Tamlin felt himself tense, his fifth release of the night threatening to spill over. As if sensing his closeness, Rhysand squeezed his balls lightly, the pleasure just enough to send him over the edge. Tamlin came into Rhysand’s mouth in hot spurts, the male’s throat bobbing as he swallowed every last drop. Rhysand gave the tip one last hard suck before withdrawing it from his mouth and crawling onto the decrepit bed beside Tamlin.

The males laid there, exhaustion finally settling into their bones. They weren’t done yet, not even close, but it would take them a few hours to recover this time. Now, they would rest.

Tamlin was just about to doze off when Rhysand spoke, his voice hoarse, “Show me your wings.”

Opening an eye, he raised an eyebrow at the male. “What?”

“The wings you flew here with. Let me see them.”

How he knew Tamlin flew instead of winnowed, he didn’t know.

Letting out a sigh, Tamlin angled his body until his upper back was visible. In a flash, Tamlin shifted, large dark grey wings branching out from the spot his shoulder blades met. Unlike Rhysand’s scales, his feathers were soft and light. If he were on his own, he would transform into the bird entirely, perhaps flying across the sea until their next meeting in a year. But here, he would maintain his fae body.

“They’re beautiful,” Rhysand murmured, running his finger across a ridge. Tamlin tried to fight the quiver that traveled up his spine. “I still can’t believe you can do magic like this. It’s remarkable.”

Narrowing his eyes, Tamlin folded in his wings, resting them close to his skin. “Your mate can do the same thing.”

“No, she can’t,” Rhysand sighed. “Not the way you can, at least.”

Jealousy filled Tamlin. Whether it was for Feyre or Rhysand, he was not sure, but it raged on in him nevertheless. “You have your mate, you have everything you could possibly want, and yet you will not relieve me from this bargain.”

“Do you not understand?” Rhysand stood from the bed, his arms flailing as he spoke. “There were two sides to the bargain, Tamlin. I am not the only one who still needs to fulfill the deal.”

Scoffing, Tamlin stood as well, anger simmering from him. “You have your tricks, Rhysand. I know you trapped me into this.”

“You really don’t get it, Tam,” Rhysand said, laughing darkly. “I have found my mate. I have my companion. I have done my part, you’re the one who has me trapped.”

Tamlin mulled over the words in his head, the declaration unexpected. Rhysand was an ass, but rarely has the male lied to him. It was the one thing Tamlin appreciated about him. Confused, Tamlin stared at him, eyebrows furrowed.

And then, Tamlin really looked at him, this time without a fog of arousal or anger clouding his perception.

Gone was the black star behind his ear, smooth tan skin taking its spot. Having just seen his in the mirror that morning, Tamlin knew his remained, inked onto him for eternity. Or so he thought.

A chilling realization hit him.

Sitting on the bed, Tamlin rested his head into the palms of his hands. All this time stuck here…and it was all of his fault. Rhysand didn’t get glee from his misery, the bastard was only here because of Tamlin’s lack of will to move on. Gods…

The bed groaned as Rhysand sat next to him, resting an arm around his shoulders and pulling him in. They sat like that in silence for a moment, Tamlin’s mind swirling.

Finally, Tamlin spoke, his voice barely a whisper, “You’ve taken everything I love from me… and yet, I cannot find it in myself to let you go.”

Rhysand softly shook his head. “You have to find a companion, Tamlin. A mate. A friend.”

Tamlin looked up at him, Rhysand’s eyes unusually soft. “And if I don’t?”

“Then I’ll be here,” Rhysand said, kissing Tamlin’s forehead. “I’ll keep you company until you eventually grow bored of me.”

A deep belly laugh escaped Tamlin, something he hadn’t experienced in a very, very long time. “I don’t think that’ll happen anytime soon,” Tamlin said, grabbing Rhysand’s hand. “You’re stuck with me, Rhys.”