Chronic Fanfic Reblogger

“Kidnapped,” she said—annoyed, not dramatic. She nudged the rope with two fingers as if it had personally disappointed her. “Briefly.”

The word detonated the room. Cassian fumbled his mug. Feyre went very still. Rhys’s smile vanished; Nesta’s chin angled like a drawn bow. Amren’s eyes did murder math.

Azriel’s voice came out even, which meant it was shaking. “By whom.”

“Amateurs.” She hopped up to sit on the table like this was a weather report. “I have notes.”

“Notes,” Rhys repeated faintly.

“Mhm. First of all—and I cannot stress this enough—if you’re going to bag someone, measure your bag.” She held her hands apart. “Pillowcases are not scalable for head sizes. I could see through the weave. I made eye contact with a chicken on the way to the ‘safehouse.’ I named her Beryl.”

Cassian actually dropped a glass. It shattered. No one looked.

Azriel’s jaw became a weapon. “They put a bag over your—”

“Loosely,” she said, unimpressed. “With a lavender sachet inside, which is… sweet? But counterintuitive if your goal is menace.

Feyre set the kettle down because her shoulders were starting to shake. Rhys, very politely, said, “Continue.”

“Second: rope selection.” She thumped the coil. “Aesthetic, sure. Functional? It surrendered immediately. I’ve seen House laundry lines with more integrity. I conducted a quick knot clinic on the way. Mor would have loved it. I told them, ‘If you can’t tie a bowline blindfolded in ten breaths, you cannot freelance in the abduction space.’”

Azriel made a sound he does not typically allow in public. Not a laugh, yet. A breath that forgot how to be quiet.

Cassian's eyes lit up and whispered to Rhys, "We have a tremor, do not panic."

Azriel blinked at the rope, then at her. “You… stayed to give them advice on kidnapping?”

“Yes,” she said, perfectly serious. “Because bad technique escalates risk. Someone was going to sprain a thumb on a granny knot and statistically it would be me. I refuse to be complicit.”

Nesta’s mouth did the tiniest, most criminal curve. “Did they at least threaten you properly?”

“They tried.” She sipped, grimaced. “They opened with ‘listen here, sweetheart,’ which, bold, to assume I haven’t heard that since birth. I offered alternatives. ‘Nemesis’ has gravitas. ‘Sweetheart’ is seasonal.”

Cassian choked. Nesta’s eyes glittered, hungry.

“And the blindfold,” she pinched the bridge of her nose, “was one of those decorative scarves with bells. Every time I breathed I sounded like Solstice. We took the scenic route, so I jingled for three streets.”

Azriel’s shoulders started to move. Slowly. Then again. He sat down like someone had pulled the chair and then changed their mind, elbows to thighs, hands in his hair. His eyes brightened in a way that scared everyone and somehow calmed them too.

Feyre put a hand to her chest, "Oh my goodness, it's actually happening. He's going to, I can feel it."

“Then they argued about lunch,” she went on, genuinely offended. “In the next room. Loudly. One of them thinks stew is a personality. The other kept saying ‘no onions’ like a manifesto. Door wide open.”

“Y/n,” Az said, voice strangled, “please—”

She blinked at him, wrong-footed by the sound. “What? I’m giving feedback.”

“Exactly,” he wheezed, helpless, breaking, “that’s the— that’s the problem—”

Rhys was grinning into the marble like a sinner at altar. Cassian bent double, wheezing himself on contact. Amren swirled her wine with unholy delight.

“I mean honestly,” she said, exasperation pure, “I was offended. I assumed I ranked highly enough they’d send someone qualified.”

Azriel broke.

It wasn’t loud. It was a silent catastrophe, shoulders shaking, air leaving him in undignified little bursts he tried and failed to contain, that rare, impossible wheeze like someone finally opened a window in his ribs. He pressed his forearm to his mouth; his eyes went wet; he tried to stop and could not.

“Oh my gods,” Cassian whispered, reverent. “He laughs like this?”

Feyre’s eyes turned soft as a prayer. “Do it again,” she stage-whispered toward her, appalled at herself and delighted anyway.

Mor appeared with a croissant. “What did I miss—OH MY GODS DO IT AGAIN.”

She looked between them, affronted. “I am not a wind-up toy.”

Az tried to breathe, failed, pointed helplessly. “You said— you were offended—”

“Well I was.” She swung a leg, indignant. “I expected a clean snatch-and-grab. Instead I got a duo called Shade and… also Shade. Second Shade insisted it was spelled Shayde—until we reached the door and he remembered his name is actually Blade. Shade welcomed Blade to the team. Blade apologized for the confusion and reintroduced himself. Twice.”

Az folded over his knees. The laugh went silent dangerously, then came back as a wheeze so violent his shadows jittered like excited crows.

“Fourth,” she continued mercilessly, “branding.” She produced a crumpled parchment. “The ransom letter to the Knight Court; as in a chivalry-themed small-claims tribunal. Demand: ‘fifty gold and a pie.”

Rhys slapped the counter. “I’m framing that.”

“I fixed it,” she added, practical. “Left a corrected draft with sample openers and a style guide. Also a checklist: one, if you’re keeping a hostage, do not let her keep her knives. Two, if you must keep the knives, remove the whetstone. Three, absolutely do not monologue.”

Nesta, savoring, “They monologued.”

“Extensively. With hand gestures.” She demonstrated two limp theatrical flourishes. “Very interpretive. Shade presented a metaphor about the river of fate. Blade asked if I needed a cushion. There was also a third man briefly, unfortunately named Spoons, who recused himself on moral grounds and fetched me water.”

Azriel gasped, a sharp, involuntary intake that turned into another helpless wheeze. He scrubbed at his eyes, shook his head, tried for dignity and missed by a mile.

Rhys blinked, his eyes suspiciously bright, "Someone please record this moment for history."

“Fifth: the gag.” She pinched her nose. “A floral scarf. Peppermint oil on it. Are we soothing or are we intimidating? Pick a lane.”

“Mercy,” Az begged, voice wrecked and laughing. “please, I—”

“Fine.” She hopped down, and the joke dropped out of her voice without ceremony. She took his wrist, thumb brushing the vein. “I’m alright.”

He turned his hand to catch hers, holding carefully where there wasn’t blood. Relief carved through his face so nakedly the room went quiet for one beat. “You’re sure?”

“I escorted myself out,” she said, matter-of-fact. “Left them an invoice.”

Amren perked. “For what.”

“Consulting,” she said. “Half-day rate.”

Cassian made a sound that might have been a sob. Rhys leaned into Feyre’s shoulder and laughed into her hair. Nesta allowed herself an audible, dangerous snort.

Azriel, finally breathing like a person, tipped forward until his forehead touched her shoulder and exhaled like a man making shore. His voice was ruined, soft. “You cannot do that to me before breakfast.”

“I did bring you a souvenir,” she said, digging in her pocket and producing a very sad knife. She set it in his palm. “From Knight Court.”

The wheeze tried to come back. He swallowed it, kissed her knuckles instead, and murmured, “I am so angry with them, and also—gods.”

“Don’t make it a party trick,” she warned the room, glaring as Mor vibrated with glee. “No ‘do it again.’ I’m not performing.”

Mor saluted with her croissant. “Understood. But for the record?" she pointed at Azriel, "You just made history today with that laugh."

Cassian said solemnly, "I'm commissioning a tapestry for this moment."

“Shut up Cassian.” Az said faintly, staring at her like she hung the moon. “You stayed to give them advice,” he repeated, wonder, wreckage.

“Yes,” she said, baffled by the fuss. “Because if anyone is going to kidnap me in this city, they will do it correctly.”

Azriel started laughing again, softer now, helpless still. He caught her hand and didn’t let go.

“You’ll live,” she told him, deadpan.

You sighed to yourself, snuggling your chilly nose deeper into the plush, navy scarf wrapped around your neck. Your eyes continued to scan the lines of shops down the streets until you caught sight of the store that Rhysand bought all of your best underthings from. You really did have enough lacy garments at home, but maybe you could find something that stood out to wear for him. After all, there was one thing only you could give him. 

When you stepped inside the store, a small bell jingled above your head, letting the two lesser Fae working the store know you’d entered. 

“High Lady,” one greeted, bowing politely to you. 

You waved away her formality, smiling sweetly at her. 

“Hello, always a pleasure to visit one of my favourite shops,” you replied, your voice kind. 

“We’ve just finished making a few new pieces if you’d like to take a look.”

“I’d be delighted.”

The sweet Fae female led you toward the back of the shop where a little wardrobe stood under a single faelight. She opened the doors to the wardrobe, revealing the dainty, yet intricate new sets she and her partner had designed and sewed. They were all so beautiful, but one particular set snagged your attention. 

“What’s that one?” You asked, gesturing to the twinkling, jewelled garment hiding between two others. 

“I thought your High Lord would come snatch this up, but it seems you’ve beat him to it this time,” she chuckled, pulling the garment off the rack to show you. 

Perfect.

˙⋆✮⋆˚࿔

It had been a real effort, managing to slip from Rhys’s birthday festivities a few hours earlier than the rest of the High Lord’s inner circle. Mor has whined, Cassian had pleaded, Azriel had frowned slightly more than usual. Rhys had been especially desperate to have you near him, the few empty bottles of wine at his feet making him touchier than usual. 

You were proud of your performance, feigning a headache that forced you to retire for the night. Little did the rest of your group of friends know that you’d scurried up to your room and dug your fingers into the jewelry box that contained only Rhys’s favourite pieces. 

Within an hour, you practically glittered from head to toe. You’d slipped on a pair of crystal kitten heels, transparent and sparkling in the late night starlight. Around your ankles were twin chains, dainty silver things with tiny crystal stars dangling from them. Even the stars would bow at your feet if they could, my love. Rhys’s words, even in memory, could send a shiver down your spine. 

Around your waist, three thin chains, all joined together on one side of your hip with a shining diamond. From your wrists to your shoulders, you wore the intricate silver wire-like cuffs that swirled in patterns similar to Rhys’s tattoos. Small, purple gems were littered throughout the thin silver, catching the light when you moved. On your fingers, only your wedding ring, a gift from Rhys’s mother you’d never gotten to know. 

Your neck was wrapped with the diamond choker he’d gifted you for one Winter Solstice, a matching pair of earrings secured as well. Atop your hair, his favourite of your crowns: a sparkling tiara style crown laced with glistening moonstone. Close enough to bringing you the moon, he’d explained when he’d set it on your head for the first time. 

The set you’d gotten from that shop really brought it all together, though. It was, quite literally, made for you. The top was a flimsy net of sparkling, starlight thread that barely covered the shape of your breasts. The panties were made of a similar material. The only thing preserving whatever shred of modesty this set left behind was a collection of crystals of varying sizes, The crystals covered only the most intimate parts of your core and the place just over your nipples. To top it all off, hanging from the small thread that connected the fabric over your chest was a silver charm of the Night Court’s symbol. 

It was impossible to get Rhysand a gift he couldn’t buy for himself, but you figured that diamonds were pretty good. Especially if he could peel them off your body himself. You took a good look in your full-length mirror, grinning at your reflection. You looked fucking good. It was only a matter of waiting, then, until Rhysand came to bed, ready to curl in beside you. 

˙⋆✮⋆˚࿔

A little past two in the morning, your bedroom door creaked open. Rhys, to his credit in his semi-drunk state, did his best to be quiet as he came in, just in case you were asleep. Your lips quirked upwards at the sight of him, and you adjusted yourself in your position laid back against the headboard of your bed. The moment he’d made it inside and softly shut the door, Rhysand’s gaze was searching for you.

The once over, then twice over, then again for good measure, he gave you was enough to tell you that your gift had already been well received by the male in front of you. You watched as a blush spread itself across his face, all the way up to the tips of his pointed ears. Cute, you thought. 

“Happy birthday, Rhys. I got you diamonds.”

He just nodded slowly, as if to say I noticed, his quick tongue darting out to wet his plush lips. Hunger claimed his features rapidly as he stalked, stalked, toward the bed like an animal toward its prey. All the while though, his gaze held such reverence for you that goosebumps raised on your skin. 

“You are,” he said, his voice deep and dripping with desire, “the most beautiful creature that has ever walked this realm.”

It was your turn to blush now, the words sinking deep into your stomach and fueling the fire slowly lighting in your core. The sight of him was more than enough to have the scent of arousal filling the air between you, but his words and his tone had certainly made you perfectly obvious.

“I didn’t know what to get you so I thought…” You trailed off, eyes trailing to his chest as his deft fingers worked to unbutton his shirt.

“This is more than I could’ve hoped for. C’mere, sweetheart.” He cooed, beckoning you over with a brief flick of his hand. 

Who were you to deny him a thing, really? You couldn’t help the smile on your lips as you climbed across the bed, sitting on the edge of it as you waited for him to close the distance between you.

“No, come here.” He insisted, holding a hand out for you this time.

You arched a brow as you reached out your own hand, your ring catching in the light as your fingers met his palm. You stood, walking the few steps to be right at his side. His shirt, fully unbuttoned now, fell to the floor as he let go of your hand, his own lifting to rest on your cheek. 

“Exquisite,” he murmured to himself, as if admiring a piece of art.

His free hand came to rest on your waist, his index finger toying with one of the little chains around you, and he leaned down to press a tender kiss to your lips. You could taste wine and laughter on his lips, your smile melting as he pulled back.

“What is it?”

“Just wanted another look,” he said as he lowered his lips to yours again, this time in a much firmer kiss. 

He wasted no more time in absolutely devouring you with the kiss, the hand on your face sliding into your hair, causing his thumb to brush the edge of your crown. You could’ve sworn you heard a soft moan leave him as it did. Your hands came to rest on his bare chest, his heartbeat like thunder beneath his skin. 

His hand, the one previously toying with your waist chain, slid down to your ass to squeeze. You let out a soft squeak against his lips in surprise, but you arched into his touch instinctually. Your hands roamed his chest, exploring over his stomach, down to the waistband of his pants. He pulled back from the kiss once more, shaking his head at you.

“Not yet,” he said.

Your confusion must’ve been clear on your face because he chuckled quietly, giving your lips a quick peck.

“You got all dressed up just for me,” he went on, stepping backward until he could sit down on the edge of the bed, “I think I should get to spend as much time as I like admiring this.”

Standing almost nude, alone in front of his bed should’ve felt at least somewhat embarrassing. Under the heat of Rhys’s stare, though, you felt nothing but power thrumming through your veins. Your eyes flickered to his waist as his hands slowly unclasped his belt buckle. When you lifted your gaze back to his face, his violet eyes were still glued to you. 

“Why don’t you give me a spin, sweetheart.”

He dragged his tongue over his top teeth, eyes trained on you with such intense desire you really thought he might just come take a bite out of you. Ever the mind reader, most literally, you heard Rhysand’s voice coo in your head softly. Believe me, angel, I’m considering it. A shiver ran down your spine as you sank your teeth into your bottom lip.

“You can do whatever you’d like with me, Rhys, that’s kind of the point.”

“Yeah, well, I’d like you to give me a spin.”

You flushed deeper at his words, giving the male a small nod before you obliged. You slowly turned in a small circle, letting your hair sweep against your neck, against your cheeks. The dangling chains and jewels that littered your perfect frame clinked softly with the movement, catching the light and sending small bits of starlight throughout the room. Rhys was grinning wolfishly by the time you finished spinning, his cock having been freed from his pants and now lazily fisted as he watched you. 

“Fucking perfect,” he told you.

“Says you,” you retorted, walking toward him once more with quiet clicks from your heels against the floor.

He reached a hand for you, the other not stopping his slow strokes up and down his already hard cock. You bit your lip again, your mouth practically watering. He slid his hand up your back, unclasping the tiny bra you wore with practised ease. His confidence was ridiculous, but the skill he had to back it up never failed to make your head spin. You wanted him everywhere, the weight of him on your tongue, the feel of him against your palm… but tonight wasn’t about you. 

“How do you want me?”

The answering groan is almost enough to send you straight to your knees, desperate to taste him all of a sudden.

“I want you to come take a seat,” he said coolly, his hand retreating from your back to pat one of his very appealing thighs, “with a crown like that, my High Lady deserves a proper throne.”

You nearly snort out a laugh at his joke, but the proposition of riding him tonight makes your stomach flutter. Rhys loved to see you on top of him, of course, but he was most often too restless to do anything other than pin you down and have his way with you. Climbing up onto the bed, you moved to set your knees on either side of his hips but he stopped you, both of his hands coming to grab your waist.

“Uh uh,” he tutted, turning you around so that your back was to him, “a view this good can’t be missed. Eyes stay open, yeah, sweetheart?”

With your bare back pressed to his bare chest, you had the perfect view of your husband’s chin coming to rest on your shoulder, hands sliding up to cup your breasts, in the full length mirror on the wall. You took in your kiss-flushed lips, your slightly off skew crown, and naked chest. You knew you looked good when you’d set this whole thing up, but now, under Rhys’s touch? The masterpiece was complete.

“Sit down.” Rhys said, and you could tell from the tone of his voice that he was desperate for you, impatient as ever.

You reached behind you, your fingers wrapping around his cock, earning you a low hiss from him. As you lined him up with your soaking entrance, you felt his hips jerk up in what you were sure was an involuntary reaction. You opted not to tease him tonight and sunk down on him slowly, a breathy moan leaving you as you took him inch by inch.

He groaned as he watched you through the mirror, his eyes flickering from your face, to your tits, to where you took him inside you. When he bottomed out inside you, your eyes fluttered, threatening to close. Rhys pinched your hip lightly, kissing at your neck.

“Don’t you close those eyes. Can’t miss a fucking second of this.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but all that came out was a whiny moan. He chuckled darkly behind you, his hands coming to grip your hips so he could lift you up and drag you back down onto his dick. You rocked back in time with the way he moved you, pressing your ass flush against his defined v-line. In the mirror, you watched him disappear inside you again and again, your chest bouncing with the movements you made.

You could tell that Rhys was hyper-aware of all this too, as his eyes still couldn’t find a place to land for good. Every few moments they’d flit over to another part of your jewelry covered form, a flare of possessiveness flashing in his gaze at each new piece he took in. It was obscene, watching him fuck you like this, but Gods was it hot. The feeling of him filling you, stretching you open, was almost overwhelming. He was made to fit you just as you were made to fit him. 

In his grasp, you managed to cant your hips faster, one of your hands reaching behind you to tangle in Rhys’ hair.

“Feels so fucking good, Rhys,” you moaned, tugging lightly at his roots.

He groaned, nipping at your ear as he let you fuck yourself back onto him faster, harder. 

“So do you, angel, fucking perfect bouncing on my cock like that. See that? See how good you take me?”

You nodded frantically, your watch on the mirror alerting you to one of his hands sliding between your legs. One of his fingers immediately found your clit, forcing a loud moan from your lips. Rhys’s grin widens despite the way ragged grunts and groans keep slipping past his lips. 

“That’s it, sweetheart, take it.”

His praise was absurd, like adding gasoline to a house already aflame. With the way Rhys was rubbing tight circles onto your clit and fucking into you so deep you could see stars, you knew you wouldn’t last long. Your stomach clenched, your walls squeezing his cock, making him moan right in your ear. 

“Close already?”

The soft mockery in his tone made you clench again. Rhys’s fingers sped up, his hips lifting to meet yours as your rhythm faltered. You watched in the glass before you as Rhys’s eyes rolled for a moment, his breaths speeding up. You knew him well enough to know he wasn’t far behind you.

“Yeah, yes, Rhys, fuck, I’m gonna come,” you moaned, dropping your head back on his shoulder.

Your crown tumbled off of your head, then, falling onto the mattress with a soft tink.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Rhys huffed, the hand not rubbing sweet patterns into you lifting to force your head back upright.

It was a battle to keep it that way, your muscles ready to give out as you inched closer and closer to your peak. When you felt the cool metal of your crown kiss your forehead, watched as Rhys picked it up off the bed and set it back on your head, your heart clenched.

“Come for me, gorgeous. Look how beautiful you are when you fall apart.”

His hot breath against the shell of your ear, the pure adoration in his voice, the feeling of him plucking every nerve in your body like guitar chords, had you shattering. You came with a cry of his name, clenching around his cock. The feeling of you coming on his dick paired with your teary gaze locked on his in the mirror had Rhys snapping instantly, his come filling you as he continued to rock his hips into yours.

You panted for breath as you came down from your high, slumping back against Rhys’s chest. Your eyes had shut without you even realizing, and you were pretty sure it was alright that you rested on your lover’s shoulder now. Rhysand’s breath was heavy behind you, his chest heaving. He let out a breathless laugh, kissing your temple tenderly.

“Best birthday yet.”

“You say that every year,” you laugh breathlessly.

“And I mean it every year.”

“Happy birthday, Rhys. I hope you liked your present.” You said, opening your eyes to look at him.

He smiled at you, catching your lips for a quick, sweet kiss. 

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he said, giving an experimental roll of his hips to reveal he was already hard again, “but if you think that was all the enjoyment I was going to get tonight, you’ve got another thing coming.”

The pull in my chest has my feet moving again, not waiting to ask her what she means. It’s impossible not to feel the heat. Do dragons keep their dens warm with their fiery breath? Is that what this is?

That Seer couldn’t have been right, could she?

The cave widens as it goes deeper, slopping steadily downwards. 

“Should have brought a light,” Vassa grumbles. 

I run my hand along the cave wall, the stone smooth and worn down. Logically I know that’s from time and weather, but there’s some twisted part of me that can’t help but wonder if something else did this.

Eventually our eyes adjust, or at least, mine do, Vassa continues to stumble along behind me, tripping on rocks I don’t feel beneath my boots, grumbling about her aching toes. Our positions have suddenly switched. Excitement pulls me forward as she continues to blunder about behind me. When the cave splits into two sections, I don’t pause, I follow the warmth that seems to deepen the farther we go. There’s a faint hint of night-blooming jasmine in the air now, though I don’t see any flowers to go with it.

“Ugh, what’s that smell?” Vassa says from where she has paused at the fork in the road.

“Jasmine,” I say, not waiting for her to catch up. 

The wind continues to whistle through the cave, that faint voice still calling, “Come. Come and see.”

“Did you hit your head?” Vassa calls down to me, refusing to step onto this path. “That smells rotten?”

I risk a glance over my shoulder at her. “No it doesn’t.”

“Stop messing with me and come back here, we’re not going that way. Something feels wrong about it.”

I continue walking. “I’m going this way. You go the other way then.”

“Seriously, you need to come back!” Vassa hisses.

The path continues to slope downwards to the point that I can barely see her over the declining edge, yet whatever fear she feels, it doesn’t touch me. Usually I’m the anxious one; the one always on edge. Yet here, even in this dark cave with the possibility of a mythological monster waiting at the end, I am not afraid. The warmth surrounds me. The jasmine permeating the air seeps into my skin like someone has wrapped their arms around me. I don’t wait for her to catch up.

“If you get eaten, I’ll never forgive you!” She yells.

“Nothing is going to eat me,” I call back and strangely, I believe it. 

The path slopes sharper and sharper, to a point that I have to sit and slide down the now completely smooth stones to avoid taking a tumble. It’s only once I reach the bottom that I realize that’s going to be impossible to climb back up. 

I run my hands along the edge, looking for handholds but there are none. If there’s a way out of this cave, it has to be forward. This is usually where I would panic, but even now, in the face of reality, I’m still strangely… calm.  The wind continues to beckon, a siren song, and I’m a hapless sailor to its heralding music. My feet move on their own accord, ever forward, almost in a trance. I am conscious of my steps, alert enough to note that the deeper I go, the more strange symbols appear on the cave walls, but I cannot bring myself to stop and look at them. I have to keep going.

The air continues to heat. The scent of jasmine now underlined with citrus and salt. I swear the voice that compels me is now tinged with a hint of music, stringed instruments floating through the darkness like ghostly hands reaching out to touch me. I find myself humming a tune I do not know, the sounds ancient, something forgotten over the course of centuries. 

The path curves, winding like we’re looping farther down into the mountain, as if this is some time-worn spiral staircase. The music almost makes this feel romantic. Almost. Some light would have been helpful. 

As if I’d manifested it with my thoughts, a faint orange glow suddenly appears at the far end of the tunnel. It pulses, in… out… in… out like a heartbeat. Or a breath.

The realization finally halts me in my tracks. That is breathing! There had never been any wind, it had been breathing. 

The Seer had been right?

Curiosity overrides the first flash of fear I feel since entering the cave and I press myself flat against the wall and inch slowly towards the light. The sounds of heavy breathing echo the closer I get, rumbling the cave floor. Whatever creature it belongs to, it has to be massive. 

The light comes from a massive cavern at the end of the tunnel, the cave walls stretching miles above my head. Bats hang from stalactites that glisten like silver. All along the cave walls are markings, a dozen different languages scrawled in fading paint. I see the Ancient Tongue. The Sacred Script of priestesses. Something archaic and forgotten, the lines a harsh slash through the rock, the paint dark, like dried blood. It all swirls around the walls, twining closer and closer to the floor, like a giant arrow pointed to the center of the cavern. Where a massive dragon slumbers.

My breath catches in my throat, heartbeat a clanging knoll in my ears. The light comes from the dragon, a flash of fiery orange glittering between midnight black scales the size of my head with every exhale. Hot air billows out its nostrils, kicking up centuries of dust that cling to a head the size of a house. 

I find myself inching towards it despite my thundering heart. The creature is beautiful! Its massive wings are tucked tight against its giant body; I bet if they were outstretched they'd be longer than the cavern. Its front legs are tucked under its snout, propping that massive head up off the floor. A set of horns curl out of the top of its head, glittering in specks of silver like a thousand tiny stars. The closer I get, the more I can see a tint of violet rippling through the onyx scales.

No matter how loud my footsteps seem in my ears, the beast doesn’t waken. It continues its deep slumber, unperturbed by my arrival.

I have never been more keenly aware of my own size until my boots stop beside its head. From this vantage point, I’m up close and personal with its jagged teeth. Legends say that dragonbreath smells like sulfur and ash, and there is some truth to that, yet, the heaviest scent is still jasmine and citrus. 

I thought that being this close, the heat would be oppressive, but it’s not. It’s like standing beside a fireplace on a cold winter's day, the heat warm and inviting enough to curl up beside it. My hand reaches out instinctively; curiosity has my fingers drifting gently along the edge of the scales--will it be hot to touch? One scale alone is as big as my hand, the texture rough and bumpy against my smooth skin, and while it is warm to the touch, the scales themselves are not hot. It’s the leathery layer of skin beneath, the one that glows when it breathes that carries the most heat. The light blazes in molten colors, peeking through the gaps in its softer underbelly, where those onyx scales are not layered as tightly. I’m tempted to touch that too, just to see what it would feel like, but this close, its breath is hard enough to blow my hair away from my face, my clothes ruffling and snapping on the wind it creates and I am suddenly very aware of my own size. I should be afraid, but I’m not. Not even a little. Whatever kind of slumber, or perhaps hibernation it's in, it doesn’t awaken at my touch. Nor at the scent of me standing beside its massive head. It must have been like this for a long time, dust and dirt collecting in heaps beside its long limbs, coating parts of the wings and tail in such a heavy layer it almost looks made of stone. Were it not for the glow and the breathing, it might be mistaken for an ancient statue. Perhaps that is why so few people have noticed it over the years.

I walk around its massive body slowly, taking in every inch of it. The old tales did not do this creature justice in the slightest. But how could it? What words would be enough to wrap all this beauty and danger into a single story? Just the sight of it has hundreds of questions spinning through my mind, images of what this thing might look like in flight. There are spikes along its spine about four feet apart, the tips might be silver, but dust paints them in shades of gray; they could make a seat of sorts, if someone was brave enough. The spikes are wide enough around that you could easily tie a rope around it and hold on like a bridle for a horse. Might not be the most comfortable ride, but an extraordinary one nonetheless. 

I have to step carefully over its tale, curled in a crescent shape. The tip is barbed and jagged, made to tear through flesh and bone with little resistance. One is shorter than the others, broken at an odd angle. It must have hit something as formidable as it to do that kind of damage. I can’t help but wonder what kind of battles this creature has seen. There are deep gashes in the scales along its left side, a testament to fights won. 

“Beautiful,” I say softly as I come around the other side of its massive head. His snout is wide enough that I could sit comfortable atop it.

There are more markings on the floor here, the words carved in strange shapes with something sharp. All in languages that make no sense to me. Save for one fading script, half hidden beneath claws longer than my forearm. I have to wait for it to inhale, so the light is brightest. Some of the words are barely legible, I can make out an awaken… beast’s…mate before the rest disappears beneath its belly. 

Awaken. There’s something that could end this creature’s slumber? Did that mean it was cursed? Or under some sort of spell? Was that why that looney Seer had sent Vassa out here? Did she think we could somehow help?

My head spins. From somewhere above me I can hear the faint whisper of footsteps, and my sister cursing and grumbling about not finding anything. The thought that Vassa might find this great beast makes something hot and possessive flair in my chest. Something oddly protective rises within me; I can’t let anybody else find it like this. It’s vulnerable, exposed. Rationally, I know that Vassa would never do anything to it, but she has never learned to not run her mouth and if word gets back into town and into the hands of someone like the Vanserra’s or Mother forbid, Lord Koschei, I have no doubt that they would harm my dragon. 

Mine. The word echoes around in my skull. Mine. Mine. Mine. 

I find myself placing a hand flat against the top of its snout. “I won’t let anyone hurt you, I promise.” It’s sheer instinct that has me leaning forward to place a kiss to the spot my hand had been. 

And much to my surprise, the dragon’s eyes suddenly open. Dust flying as its slitted violet eyes take stock of its surroundings.

My jaw drops, feet scrambling backwards as it suddenly raises its massive head off the floor, the movement sounding like stones tumbling down the mountain. Its legs stretch out in front of it, making the earth tremble.

Wherever Vassa is above us, I hear her scream echo off the rocks, but it is quickly overshadowed by the low growl, almost like a groan, that comes from the dragon as it stands to its full height and shakes out its wings.

Dust envelops me so thick I start to cough and the noise brings that massive head back down to appraise me. I can’t bring myself to run, to move at all, despite the thundering of my own heartbeat in my ears. It’s awake! I woke it up somehow! And now its going to eat me in one bite. 

It uses its wings to clear the dust away, the great, leathery membrane scraping against the walls. They have to be as long as a city block!

It comes back down, nearly to the floor and sniffs me. Nostrils flaring as it catches my scent. But right when I think it will open its jaws and swallow me, it merely nuzzles the tip of its snout into my stomach, still sniffing like a dog. The move feels curious, much like my own appraisal of it had been, and though I think it might have been trying to be gentle, my weak human legs are no match for even a bump. I hit the floor with a squeal, nearly slamming my head into the floor. 

The dragon makes a noise that sounds close to a cry, like it’s upset as it nudges me again, pushing me along the floor. The weight is suffocating; when I was small I’d fallen off a horse and gotten caught beneath its legs, I’d thought that was the heaviest thing that had ever hit me, but it had nothing compared to this. 

Again, I don’t think it means to harm me. It pulls back when I try to push it off, but only far enough away for it to open its massive jaw, hot pink tongue slipping past rows of jagged teeth to lick me from middriff to the tip of my head.  You’d think something that had been asleep for hundreds of years wouldn’t have so much saliva! It clings to my hair; makes my shirt cling to my body.

“I guess that’s supposed to be a thank you?” I try to wipe my face clean with my shirt sleeve, daring to sit up. If it was going to have me for a late night snack, it would have done so already, right? Or burnt me to a crisp?

Its large head bobs, almost like it’s answering my question.

I have to have hit my head, there’s no way a dragon is responding to my questions. Especially if the writing on the cave wall is any indication of what sort of language might have been prevalent the last time it was awake.

“Y/N!” Vassa yells from somewhere nearby. She must have come running back this way when she’d heard all that noise. “Y/N where are you?!”

I see a flash of teeth as the dragon spins to face the noise, large tail sweeping along the floor as it uses it to wrap around my middle and pull me beneath the safety of its body. 

It’s protecting me?

When I try to stand, it crouches lower on its front legs, hiding me from view of the mouth of the tunnel. I feel a flash of heat from its underbelly before it blows out a blast of fire towards the tunnel I’d come from in warning. 

“Wait! No!” I shout. “She’s with me! Don’t hurt her!”

The fire recedes, but with a low growl of what might be annoyance. This dragon certainly has a large personality. 

“You can’t let her see you either! She might tell someone about you.”

It huffs as it uses its tail like an extra limb to drag me out from beneath it. But instead of letting go, it raises me up in the air!

“Hey!” It has me in a vise, dangerously close to those jagged barbs at the end of its tail. “Put me down!”

It listens, but it doesn’t set me back on the floor at all! It deposits me right onto its back, between those spikes I had noted along its spine earlier. It is, surprisingly, not an entirely uncomfortable seat. Its scales are much thicker here, tightly overlapped like armor, no leathery skin beneath to be seen, it’s solid, like sitting on a warm stone. 

My body jerks forward as the dragon turns away from the tunnel, massive head swiveling in a serpentine manner, looking for another way out. When it doesn’t see one, it takes that tail that had held me so gently before, to now bash it against the wall. Rock and debris rains down on my head and I have to duck into an award position, chin to my chest while my arms reach out to wrap around the spike to keep from slipping right off. 

“Y/N!” Vassa screams again. 

I have the good sense to shout, “I’m ok! Don’t come down this way! It’s not safe!” Right before the dragon knocks a huge chunk of rock out with its tale. 

Moonlight filters in through the cascading boulders that build up at its feet and it sticks its snout through the gap, sniffing at the air. For what, only it knows.  But it must be satisfied with something as it pulls its head back and continues to bash against the wall, making a bigger and bigger exit.

I can physically see the mountain trembling around us, but from my perch up here, it’s the tiniest of vibrations, like those clawed feet are one giant shock absorber. As shocked by the situation as I am, my curiosity continues to keep me from trying to jump off its back and run. 

Plus I’m pretty sure a fall from this height would kill me. I’m stuck up here whether I like it or not. 

When the hole is big enough for the dragon’s liking, it shoves its body forward, using its head and chest like a battering ram with such force I slam my face into the rounded middle section of the spike. My fingers dig into the rough texture, trying to find enough purchase to hold on as we burst out of the mountain and into the open air.  

There’s not even enough time for me to grasp that I’m sitting atop a dragon that’s large enough to barrel through a solid rock wall, because as soon as we’re clear, those great wings flare out, flecks of blue and violet glittering in the moonlight. The dragon crouches, like a cat preparing to pounce, and a moment later we’re air born! The air leaves my lungs in a rush, stomach completely in my throat. I don’t have enough oxygen to even scream as we go up and up and up.

I slide backwards down its back as it climbs into the sky, wings beating hard against the wind, loosing my grip, and just when I think I might fall, a tendril of dark, shadowy ether wraps itself around my waist and pulls me back to my perch. The shadow seems to come from the dragon itself, more of it slithering out around its wings to trail behind it; more flows from between its teeth as it makes a rumbling noise that sounds almost like a sigh of relief. 

Clouds drift past us, close enough to touch, the dampness surprising as one hits me right in the face. At least the water will help clean off the dragon saliva. 

Once it is satisfied with the altitude, it levels out, drifting on a current like some humongous bird. It's only then that I dare to glance beneath us. 

I severely wish I hadn’t, stomach again in my throat as I clench my thighs tighter around my seat and cling to the spike with all the strength I’ve got in what feels like a very feeble body in comparison to my companion. The ground is miles beneath us, lights from cities mere flecks of orange in the distance. 

It is far colder than I imagined it to be up here, the wind and the chill seeping quickly through my cloak. I try to distract myself by looking above us, the stars impossibly close. It almost feels as if I could reach out and touch them. The light they create glitters off the dragon’s scales like a thousand tiny little diamonds. I imagine, without all the dust that still clings to it, that it would be an even  more magnificent sight. 

My teeth start to chatter as we glide farther and farther away from the only home I’ve ever known. But what can I do about it? If the fall from its back while it was on the ground could kill me, this has to be a whole other level of pain. I’d rather not experience what it would feel like to plummet towards the ground from this height.

The thought makes my stomach twist again. It’s lucky we’d eaten supper so early this evening, I’d have thrown it all up twice over by now otherwise. The trip up was terrifying enough; we have to come down eventually. I cling tighter as best I can, but the trembling of my quickly freezing body makes it hard. I don’t know how long I can hold out up here. My fingers already feel like they’re turning blue. 

My shaking must be noticeable, because the dragon cranes its head back to look at me, a low mournful sound slipping past its teeth. I feel the heavy inhale it takes beneath my thighs and I feel a spark of warmth emanate beneath the scales. A small billow of fire shoots far above my head. I think it might be trying to warm me up, but it is not enough heat. I can’t curl up like this to preserve what body heat I have left, my cloak might as well be useless. 

The dragon lets out that same mournful sound before it makes a turn and starts moving in a spiral motion. I squeeze my eyes shut, the motion making me dizzy, so it takes far longer than it should for me to realize that we’re descending. 

I don’t think dragons are supposed to come out of the sky like this. At least, in all the stories I’d never heard of this kind of motion. It was always a big swoop, like a bird, these massive beasts seemingly dropping out of the sky. But this is gradual; careful. As if it knows that the descent was making me uneasy. 

Its muscles ripple beneath me as it lands in what feels like a conscious effort to not jostle me around. Not only does it land, but it crouches until its belly touches the ground. The shadow looped around my waist pulls me away from my perch like a gentle set of arms until I can join it on the forest floor. 

I have no idea where we are. Trying to stand and look around to get my bearings makes me dizzy, knees wobbling so hard I hit the ground. Everything is cold and spinning and gods what have I gotten myself into? How am I supposed to get home? 

The shadowy hands that hold me retreat back to their roost in the dragon's wings as it tucks them tight and… rears back on its hind legs? I must be dizzy from the landing! I squeeze my eyes shut a few times, trying to recenter them. In the darkness, I hear weird shuffling sounds and a lot of heavy breathing from my new companion. By the time I’m confident I can open my eyes without getting sick, the dragon is gone, and where it once stood is now a man.

I must have hit my head or something. I close my eyes again; this has to be some sort of hallucination. 

And yet, a strong set of hands slides under my spine and lifts me into a sitting position. 

“My mate is so fragile,” a warm, silky voice says in my ear. It’s definitely human, yet I can still smell the jasmine and citrus from the dragon. “Let me warm you up.”

I am maneuvered into this strange male’s lap, face tucked against a very bare chest, and warmth suddenly flows through my body again. When I open my eyes, there’s a faint glow beneath his skin. 

“What’s happening?” I ask.

“I am warming you up.” He says. 

“How?” The warmth is beyond soothing. I should very much get away from this stranger and find what happened to my dragon, but it is taking time for the cold to leave me. 

He chuckles, the sound rich and rumbling from deep in his chest. “I am a dragon.”

Now I really know that I hit my head!

I manage to tilt my head away from his chest to get a good look at his face, and I am surprised to find the same slitted violet eyes that had appraised me in the cave staring back at me. Onyx hair the same color of those scales falls around his temples, kissing high cheek bones. He has a face that really does look like it could have been carved from marble. By far the most handsome male I’ve ever seen. 

“I-what? How?” The words all come out in a rush, jumbling too quick in my brain for me to pick one coherent thought. 

He grins, a flash of stark white teeth in his bronze face. “I must be far from home if you’ve never encountered my people before.” The smile fades as he speaks. “Yet I don’t remember traveling that far from home…”

Even in human form, the movements of his head as he looks around still share that same serpentine nature. “Where are we?”

“Right now? I don’t know. I’ve never been this far from my village in Lakeview.”

He frowns. “We’re on the Continent?”

“Yes.” There’s not much else out there but this, as far as I know. Everything about the Continent has always been very human. “Are you… not from the Continent?”

He huffs a slight laugh. “No. That’s for humans.”

This is too much to process all at once. My head is starting to hurt. “Where do dragons come from then?”

He turns his attention back to me and away from the thick trees that surround us. He must have landed in some sort of clearing, but there are no forests near town or the mountain that I know of. How could something so large have travelled so far away so quickly?

“I guess I will have to show you,” he says. I must stiffen a little because he adds, “Once you can travel again of course. Are you still cold, mate?”

Mate. It finally hits me that that is what it said in that vague inscription of the floor. A mate could awaken him. And that was me?

My cheeks flush crimson from the way he looks at me. I am so small in comparison to him, even in this form, and it feels like, in the way that he wraps his arms around me, keeping me close to his chest that he knows it. As if I am some fragile, breakable thing beside him. I certainly feel like it. Yet his study is curious, as if I’m something he’s never seen before. Maybe I am. If he’s not from the Continent, maybe dragons come from somewhere no humans live. But then how could I wake him up? What exactly did being mated to a dragon even mean? And how does that work if I’m not like him?

When I don’t answer, he leans down and places a gentle kiss on the tip of my nose, his breath as warm as his body on my face. Now my face is really, really red. I’d never been this close to a male before. Let alone had one kiss me. 

“How about now?” He asks, placing another peck against my chin. 

A nervous giggle bubbles out of my throat. This needs to stop. “Yep, much better, thank you.” I try to push my way out of his lap, but he holds on tight. Damn, I can feel every ripple of muscle in his chest and arms when I’m this close. It’s not at all unpleasant. 

“Are you sure?” He brushes his nose along the underside of my jaw. It feels an awful lot like he’s scenting me like he’d tried to do in the cave when he’d knocked me over. “I can find other ways to keep the cold out.”

My whole body is warm now, thanks to the blush that only spreads from my face down my chest. “That’s…” the words stutter out of me again. “I don’t…” 

His lips brush a featherlight kiss against my neck and a tremble runs down my spine for a whole different reason this time. 

“I don’t even know your name!”

“Rhys,” he hums in my ear.

Rhys. It’s a little old fashioned, but I supposed that he might have come from a time long past. “I’m Y/N.”

He tries my name out, testing how it feels on his tongue, then nods faintly to himself. “I’ve waited a long time for you, mate.” The title comes out in a purr, a hint of the dragon coming through. I feel the rumble of it in his chest. 

“I-I don’t know what that means.” I say softly.

He brushes his lips over my temple this time. “It means I am yours, forever.” His lips go lower, trailing down to my cheek. I can’t comprehend how this stranger can be so comfortable putting his lips on me when he just barely learned my name.

I also don’t hate it either. 

Like in the cave, a strange sense of safety has settled over me. I can feel in my bones that I am safe with him. It’s as if he creates this protective little bubble around us. I am not afraid to be near him, even if I also just learned his name.

“And you are mine, forever.”

So like a marriage? Did that crazy Seer just set me up for a marriage proposal to a dragon? 

“But you don’t even know me?” 

His lips move to my other cheek, pressing another kiss to the tip of my nose as he goes. The chill has entirely left me, the only thing I feel is his warm body against mine. 

“Humans do not bond?” He asks against my skin. 

My heart stutters in my chest as my mind finally realizes he’s making his way towards my mouth. Do I want him to kiss me?

“I don’t think so.” I think the word might mean different things to us. 

His lips linger at the corner of my mouth in another teasing kiss and I find my lips parting in anticipation. I do want to kiss him. Strange, I’ve never wanted to kiss a complete stranger before. Let alone a dragon! 

“Our souls are intertwined,” he explains, the words a ghost of a caress against my lips. “It is our destiny to be together. Always. I am made for you. To protect you. To care for you. To,” his lips hover just a breath between mine, violet eyes fixated on my mouth, “please you.”

Heat flares in the pit of my stomach, hot and heavy between my legs. 

“Oh.” The words leave my lungs in a whisper. 

“You were destined to be by my side, to find me, and free me from that spell.” He brushes his lips over mine, not quite a kiss, and yet I find myself leaning in for one despite myself. “Do you not feel what I feel, mate? Does your skin not burn without my touch? Does your heart not feel like it might rip from your chest without holding me close?”

I am truly at a loss for words. Is this really happening?

“Did you not feel called to find me?”

That voice… in the cave, it had been his voice! It had led me right to him. 

The realization slams into me. He is right then? I suppose if I awakened him with a kiss, perhaps a kiss from him would reveal the truth to me?

I draw my fingers over his chest, tracing a swirl of ink up his pectorals and collarbone, over his shoulders where they curl upwards to his neck. He actually purrs when I touch him like this. My hand trails higher, over the back of his neck until I can get a fist full of his silky hair. It does not take much for me to pull him down to kiss me. I suspect he let me, he certainly has the muscle to resist me if he wanted. 

The kiss is hungry, ravenous. As soon as he has the invitation his own hands slide into my hair, as his tongue slips behind my teeth. None of my books could have prepared me for the feel of him. The taste of him. As far as first kisses go, I could die happy if this was also my last.

When I pull back to catch my breath, he catches my lower lip with his teeth, a low growl slipping out his mouth as he pulls me back for another, and another. There is nothing but him in my lungs. My body buzzes in his hands, the warmth he provides turning into a heat that makes my body meld into his.

I manage to come up for air long enough to twist my position around so that I can straddle his waist and get a proper angle to kiss him again. Nothing has ever felt more right than when his large hands settle on my hips, squeezing just enough to remind me how easily he could have manhandled me into this position if he wanted to. The thought makes heat yet again pool in my lower belly. I like knowing that he has that kind of power over me. Like it even better that he continues to show he won’t use it unless I invited him to.

And damn me did I want him to. 

He has to be right. Whatever this mate thing is, there is no other explanation for the way my body responds to him; to the way I have felt called to him from the moment we found that cave. 

“I feel it,” I say breathlessly. My lips feel swollen, body a livewire. “As soon as I stepped into that cave I felt it. You.”

It is only now, when I feel something hot and heavy against my thighs that I realize he’s naked. I suppose it would be hard to keep clothes on if your body could transform from something human passing to a massive dragon, but it had not occurred to me before that it was so easy to feel the warmth of his skin because he has no clothes to separate him from me. 

My cheeks heat again at the realization, but it is not an unease shared as he kisses me again, body rocking forward to claim my mouth. The motion is so quick I slide forward, knees slick in the mud around his hips, and the hard length of him ruts into my clothed core.

I can’t stop the groan I make into his mouth, the heat in my lower belly turning into an ache verging on painful. My thighs clench instinctively around nothing. Yet the sound I make must please him, because his grip on my hips tightens as he pulls me further down against him. My eyes roll back into my head, mouth dropping open at the stimulation. Most of my knowledge about sex has come from books. Lakeview isn’t exactly a progressive town, the best mothers tell their daughters is that it's for marriage and a husband's role to explain the rest. That hadn’t meant I had never dipped into the library to try and find the sordid details, but words on a page could not prepare me for the way my body responds to him. Or the questions I have for how the hell I’m supposed to fit his large length inside me.

It's his turn to pull away and catch his breath, yet even as his chest heaves, his lips drop down to my neck, where he nips at my tender flesh and laves at the sting with his tongue. 

“Rhys,” his name is a groan, a whisper, a plea on my tongue as my hips roll against him, the friction making a shiver run up my spine. It feels as if there’s a coil winding tighter and tighter in my lower belly and any second it might snap. 

His hands momentarily leave my hips, grasping frantically at the hem of my shirt. The top and the cloak atop it come off in one swift motion, lips trailing lower to kiss along the band wrapped around my chest. 

I can’t stop moving. Can’t stop rutting my hips. The heat between my legs is too much. I squeeze my eyes shut. What the hell is happening to me?

“Just like that,” his voice is a low baritone skittering over my skin as his hands trail along my spine. “Want to make my mate feel good. Want to thank you for waking me.”

Good? I was going to explode!

His hands span the length of my lower back, climbing higher until he can find the clasp and rid me of the piece of clothing covering my chest. My cheeks have to be permanently red, embarrassment slowing my movements for a fraction of a second before he gets his mouth around my nipple. 

My moan is quiet near a scream, the overwhelming feeling of pleasure making me squirm. Too much. Not enough. I need him everywhere and yet I don’t know how to handle the sensations firing through my body. 

My hands leave his hair to grip his shoulders, nails digging into his skin yet he gives no complaint as he releases my nipple with a pop and moves to the other. “Rhys!”

“So pretty,” he murmurs as his teeth drag along my chest. 

That coil in my stomach is becoming unbearable. 

“I-I-” what am I trying to tell him? It feels like all my thoughts are bleeding out until the only thing left in my head is him. 

It’s his turn to shift, arms holding me as he rolls me over onto my back on a lush patch of grass, the dampness of the earth a cool contrast to the burning of my skin. His lips move slowly down my abdomen, nipping and sucking at my sensitive flesh and I’m suddenly very aware of the fact that my pants are sticking to my thighs. 

His hands still on the button of my hands, lips coming away from my body long enough to ask, “Can I take these off of you?”

I’m nodding even as I stutter, “I-I’ve never done this before.”

He kisses my waist as he pops the button open. “Never?”

“Never,” I confirm sheepishly. 

I can feel his grin against my skin. This pleases him?

“Do you want to stop?”

“No!” It comes out a little quicker than I meant it to, but my eagerness only makes him chuckle as he starts pulling the fabric over my hips, lips pressing fervent kisses to every new patch of skin exposed to him.

“I’ll take good care of you,” he promises. “It’s what I’m made for.”

I believe him. Just as I believed he wouldn’t hurt me in the cave. My mate. There’s something warm in my chest, some kind of tether that links our souls together. With every new pass of his lips I feel it grow just a little more. 

He trails his lips over my hip bone, down the inside of my thigh and I think I forget how to breathe. A shiver skitters over my skin, hips bucking up off the floor in search of that glorious friction. I feel my core clench around nothing, empty and begging to be filled.

He has little problem discarding my pants and boots in one swift motion, leaving me in nothing but my underwear and his slitted eyes are locked in on the embarrassingly large wet spot I know is there. Without warning, he leans down and runs his tongue along in, tasting me with a moan that makes the ground tremble. 

Something between a moan and a pitiful little squeak tears through my throat and I dig my hands into the earth to keep from bucking wildly against his mouth. 

“Delicious,” he purrs as his hands, callused in a way that makes me think his human form might have been trained for swordplay, trail along the insides of my thighs, coming up around my hips to reach for my waistband. 

I highly doubt that’s true, but what do I know about a dragon’s pallet?

Unlike my shirt, he takes his time pulling these off me, sliding the fabric torturously slow down my body. “Tell me to stop and I will,” he instructs.

“Please don’t,” I rasp. I think I might die if he stops now. The chill of the ground is seeping into my back, I need the warmth of his body atop mine again. I need him everywhere. Touching, kissing, filling me.

He is silent for a long moment once I am completely bare, eyes roaming every inch of me like he is cataloging it in his memory. It’s an effort not to squirm. 

“Rhys, please.” Please touch me again. Put your lips on me. Your tongue. Your…

I risk a glance at him, where he kneels between my legs, body all muscle and silky smooth skin, such a glaring contrast to scales and claws and spikes. His erection is heavy against his stomach, tip leaking a milky white trail of pre-cum that some instinctual part of me wants to lean forward and taste. I wonder what sounds I could draw out of him if I did.

Just when I think he might lean down and lick me again, he comes up for another slow, sensual kiss. Any lingering concerns about my lack of experience fall away as he takes his time dragging a finger through my center.

I gasp at the sensation, sparks shooting white hot up my spine so hard I clench around his digit. For all my curiosity, I didn’t know anything could feel like this. 

“Relax,” he says huskily. His eyes have expanded to nearly all pupil, just a thin ring of violet to be seen. “Gonna get you all nice and ready to take me, yeah?”

All I can do is nod. I can feel the mess I’m making dripping down my thighs, can hear just how wet I am as he slowly pushes a finger inside me. I should be embarrassed, but I’m not. Not when he keeps whispering in my ear how good I’m doing, how good I feel to him. He keeps saying how I’m made for him, how eagerly my body responds to him.

The pressure builds and builds and when he curls his finger at just the right spot the coil in my stomach ruptures. I scream before I can stop myself, waves of pleasure pulsing white hot beneath my skin. My vision blurs. I think I might be chanting his name, but I don’t have the presence of mind to tell as he slides a second finger inside me and keeps up the same pumping motion. 

My chest heaves, air illusive as I fight to catch my breath. 

“Good girl,” he praises. “Feels good?”

I squeeze my eyes shut, head lulling back against the grass as my hips buck. The more he moves the more the pressure builds back up again. Tighter and tighter. My hand reaches out to grab his wrist, where his other hand is planted beside my head to keep his balance, so I have something to ground myself in. “So good, so good.”

He kisses me again. I don’t think he’ll ever be able to stop. I don’t think I want him to. “Almost there, yeah? Almost ready?”

All I can do is nod. 

His thumb comes up to circle my clit, applying pressure so suddenly my head empties out. That’s all it takes for the second wave to crash through me, body going limp under the work of his hands. Gods that was only from his hands?

I feel boneless as he slides his hand out of my core, and brings his slick covered fingers into his mouth for a taste. He moans around his fingers like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted and my core tightens as if he didn’t just wring every drop of pleasure he could out of me already. 

Rhys spreads my legs wider, moving me wherever he sees fit. Fine with me, I don’t think I could find the right position if I wanted to. Not as my high still hasn’t fully come down. I’m just barely finding my breath when he runs his tip through my slick.

My jaw drops open again. “Shit!”

“Gonna take me so well, aren’t you, mate?” Rhys coos as he slides in an inch at a time. 

The stretch of him inside me is unlike anything I’ve ever felt, pleasure boarding on pain as my body stretches to accommodate his impressive length. I abandon my attempts at clutching the grass to stay grounded and cling onto his shoulders, hands digging into the thick, corded muscle along his back. I can’t help but wonder if the build of this body matches the build of his other form. Are these muscles he uses to fly?

He seems to like it when my nails scratch over his skin, a deep rumble coming from his chest following every twinge of pain. 

He uses the hand not bracing himself up to guide my legs around his waist as he continues to push deeper and deeper inside me, stretching me beyond what I thought was possible. He twitches inside me, painfully hard, even more so when I clench tight around him. His mouth hangs open, lips plump and pink and kiss swollen as he pants into my neck, resting his head against the juncture of my shoulder and throat. “Mate,” he whispers like a mantra, a prayer. He peppers my skin with more kisses and I can feel every tense of his muscles as he tries to fight the urge to fill me faster.

I tangle one hand in his hair, using my blunt nails to scratch along his scalp. I hope that he feels as good as I do when we’re tangled like this. That all the years stuck in hibernation weren’t for nothing. I hope I’m worth the wait.

It feels like an eternity before he is finally sheathed inside me. My toes curl at the feeling of him pressed against my cervix. Even more so when he takes my hand and places it over my stomach where I can feel the bulge of where he’s nestled inside me. The motion makes me clench around him again and he groans so loud the trees shake as he nips at my shoulder with his teeth. 

“Fuck!”

I feel absolutely boneless beneath him, and yet, I’ve never felt safer. My mate. Mine. There are no more questions about it. This is our fate. This was written in the stars that glitter across the swirl of ink along his chest and shoulders. I was always meant to find that cave, to find him. To think that I almost missed this.

He gives his hips a testing rut once he thinks I’ve had long enough to adjust to him. I don’t think any amount of time could have done that, but that slight twinge of pain is quickly turning to white hot pleasure along my spine again. 

He liked when I’d rolled my hips over him earlier, I try to do it again, not as successfully, pinned beneath him like this, but he follows my motions, guiding our bodies together as he slides a hand beneath my hips. “Just like that.” He coos around a muttering of what sound like curses in a language long forgotten. 

“Mate,” I whimper. The warmth of his skin is encompassing, the motions of our bodies leaving a fine sheen of sweat along our heated skin. Every motion is fluid, fire igniting again in my lower belly. I can practically feel the same heat, that same coil in his body, a hint of orange fire peeking through the skin of his abdomen as his thrusts get faster. 

A bite of smoke comes out his mouth as he fights to keep his breathing steady, to keep his head. I can see out of the corner of my eye, the way his hand digs into the earth, tearing through the wet grass and thick mud, trying to hold steady, to not hurt me. But that word on my tongue does something. A bit of the dragon shows through in a flash of fangs and a deep rumble like moan at every brush of his cock against my cervix.

“Say it again,” and there’s a hint of pleading in his voice.

I tilt my head to kiss his neck, getting a good whiff of the jasmine and citrus scent. I hope that smell seeps into my skin. I hope it never leaves my nose.  “Mate.”

He slides nearly out of me, grip on me tightening as he slams back into me with a growl. “Mine.” Each thrust is a little harder than the last, each one makes stars swim across my vision. My body grows tight around him, ready to crest over that glorious edge with him. 

“Mine,” he chants. 

I brush a loose strand of sweat slick hair out of his face. “Yours.” I promise. 

His lips crash against mine, body moving fervently, pushing me closer and closer to the edge until I’m clinging to him as tightly as I had when we’d flown over here. Every muscle in my body will be sore in the morning. I don’t care in the slightest. 

He lets go of my waist in favor of sliding his hand between my legs again, playing with that already tender bundle of nerves with deft fingers. White flashes across my vision. 

“Rhys!” His name sounds like someone’s tearing it out of me. 

“I’m here,” he says in my ear. “I’m here, let go for me. I’m right behind you.”

And he is, as my high washes over me, his follows with a roar that shakes the whole forest. Birds scatter from their nests in terror at the noise as he spills hot inside me. 

It is an effort to catch my breath as I cling to him, our bodies slick with sweat. 

He pants as he slides out of me and rolls onto his side beside me in the grass. As soon as he’s settled, he slides an arm around my waist and drags me back against his chest, where his warmth can soothe the exhaustion tugging at the back of my mind. He peppers more kisses along my cheeks and forehead as I come down, far slower than he is. Dragons must recoup faster than humans. 

“Are you all right?” He asks worriedly, that need glowing in his chest now replaced with the realization of just how small and fragile my body is in comparison to his. His hands soothe along my back and hips, looking for some sign that it had been too much for me. 

I lean my head against his chest, listening to the steady even beat of his heart. “I’m perfect,” I sigh contentedly. 

He reaches around behind him and finds my discarded cloak, bringing it around me like he would tuck me in with a blanket. “Are you still cold?”

I place a kiss in the center of his swirling tattoos. “Not as long as you’re here to warm me up.” 

His arms settle around me again, the forest once again quite, the stars glittering faintly in the last few hours of darkness. “I’ll never leave you.” He promises. 

I yawn as I settle against his chest, exhausted now. “Good, I want to learn all about you and your people.”

He curls himself around me like he means to shield me of anything that might appear while I sleep. “Good, there’s plenty to learn.” I don’t hear a hint of exhaustion in his voice, but perhaps he has been sleeping long enough. “And maybe you’ll try flying with me again?”