moondust and starbits

Tensions were high in Prythian, following the war with Hybern. Keeping an eye on all of the varying courts and their post-war movements required a lot from the Illyrian spy. Rhysand had even recruited Cassian to do some spy work, in the hopes to alleviate some of Azriel’s workload. Hardly a dent in the mountain of tasks Azriel had before him.

He’d been away for days. Sudden plays from Beron made Rhysand nervous, and when Rhys was nervous, Azriel went snooping. You understood that the safety of the realm came first, that your mate was doing important work and needed to be away so long, but the loneliness that came with his absence was starting to get to you.

You missed his eyes, the depth in them. You missed his voice, and the gentle timber of his voice when he told you he loved you. The occasional check-in you got through the mating bond, a tug of warmth reminding you that he thought of you, wasn’t nearly enough to satiate you. You missed his hands most of all.

Those big, tanned hands, covered in brutal patterns that tell his stories whether he wants them told or not, were your favourite part of your mate. The way his knuckles whitened when he gripped the hilt of Truth-Teller too tightly, the way his fingers flexed when he was nervous, the way they manhandled you whenever he got you alone…

Four days was much too long to have gone without those hands. You had to give yourself credit for trying to get by without them. On the nights where the simmering loneliness turned into a boiling neediness, you’d slip your own hands into your lace panties, close your eyes and dream of your winged spy. You almost hated Azriel in the desperate moments where your fingers tried so hard to imitate his, but ultimately failed to come close, leaving you aching all the days he was away.

After hearing word that Azriel had returned, and feeling a confirming hum zip through your mating bond, you’d been patient as he recounted his findings to Rhys. You’d slipped into a deep purple underthing, made of lace and sheer mesh, and got comfortable atop the bed you shared with your mate. You knew it was only a matter of time before he’d be home to you.

The anticipation already had heat pooling between your legs, your thighs pressing together in a stupidly feeble attempt to ease some of your tension. The minutes seemed to drag by as you waited, your heart pounding much too loudly for your own liking.

When the doorknob shook, your core clenched. He was finally here. Sure enough, the door to your bedroom opened to reveal your mate, still dressed in his Illyrian leathers. Azriel’s seven siphons pulsed with energy, his power barely contained by the mass number of them. His wings were tucked behind his back, and you silently wished they weren’t. Strapped to his thigh, glinting in the candlelight of your bedroom, Truth-Teller sat in its place.

Azriel’s face was unreadable as he stepped into the room. He shut the door behind him, his eyes falling on your frame. You watch his hazel eyes slowly drag over you, the slope of your breasts, barely hidden by lace, the curve of your hip wrapped in purple mesh. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, his wings lifting only slightly.

“Aren’t you a sight.” He practically whispered.

“I missed you, Az.” You purred, sitting up on your elbows to stare at him.

His jaw clenched, his fingers flexing. Not nervous, you noted, excited. He let out a deep breath through his nose, almost a sigh. He walked towards the bed, towards you, and your stomach erupted in butterflies.

“I missed you more, pet.”

The coolness in his response sent a shiver down your spine. As Azriel reached the foot of the bed, he circled it, instead of climbing on like you’d expected. He walked over to you, holding a hand out expectantly. You leaned over to him, setting your chin down in his palm, nearly moaning at the contact after so many days. His fingers curled inward, securing a firm, but not painful, grasp on your cheeks.

“Good girl. I didn’t even have to say a word.”

His praise is something you never tire of. He gave you a small smile then, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to your lips.

“How was your trip?” You ask softly, gazing up at Azriel lovingly.

“Long.” Is all he replies.

His thumb traced a gentle line over your cheek, back and forth. His eyes were dark as you stared into them, thin golden irises around blown pupils. Something in them told you, clear as the night sky, that he was in no mood for slow tonight. The trip had been long, and you both knew it.

“Let me welcome you home properly,” you offered, sliding a hand over to paw at the tenting bulge in Azriel’s armour.

He let out a satisfied huff at the contact, releasing your jaw so that you could crawl over to where he stood at the side of the bed. Your hands lifted to his leather breastplate, moving to unfasten it, but his larger hands were quick to swat them away.

“Leave it on. You don’t need to take my shirt off to welcome me.”

You swallowed thickly at his words, arousal pooling in your underwear at the tone he took with you. You nodded, lowering your hands to unfasten his pants just enough to free his already hard cock. Azriel let out a soft breath as your fingers curled around the base of him, your thumb and middle finger almost touching around his width. Your mouth watered as you stared at him, desperate to feel the weight of him on your tongue. A large, scarred hand came down to slide into your hair, the palm resting on the back of your head.

“Go on, pet.” He ordered.

You wasted no time in parting your lips, taking the tip of him between them. He groaned quietly as you took him deeper into your mouth, your tongue gently dragging along the bottom of his dick. The hand on your head pushed you gently, not forcing, but encouraging. You choked, only for a moment, and relished at the growl he made as you did. Forcing yourself to relax, you let him push all of him into your mouth, your throat.

Tears stung in your eyes as he held you there for a moment, his jaw set as he gazed down at you. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he took you in. Azriel’s hand, the one in your hair, curled to make a tight first, the new grip making it easy for him to drag you back off his cock. You licked over the tip as he moved you, tugging against his grip to take him back in your mouth.

“Needy, eager thing.” He taunted, loosening his grip enough to let you set the pace.

You set a simple rhythm, bobbing your head in time with your breaths. You braced your hands on his thighs, sitting on your knees on the bed as you sucked him. The tears in your eyes spilled over, tracing sparkling lines of starlight down your cheeks. Azriel’s free hand lifted, his thumb brushing away some of your tears. You couldn’t stop yourself from moaning around him as he brought his hand to his mouth, sucking away the remnants of your tears.

Azriel’s throat bobbed, his breath coming in hot pants as you quickened your pace. You slide your hands along his thighs, the fingers on your left hand bumping into the hilt of Truth-Teller, where it still sat in its sheathe.

“Careful,” Azriel warned gently, “Don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

The needy whine that left you was muffled around the cock in your mouth, but was certainly not lost on Azriel. His eyebrow cocked, his head tilting to the side like an animal. His grip in your hair tightened once more and he yanked you off his cock. As you gasped for breath, he stared at you, his gaze somehow darkening more.

“That’s how it is, is it?”

“I don’t know what you mea-”

“You like my knife.” Azriel cut you off, watching your face flush with his statement.

“I like you, and the knife happens to be yours, so…” You sass, trying to play off the light embarrassment seeping into you as you sit back on your knees.

“Yeah? Come back here.” He ordered.

You knew better than to disobey him, but you hesitated slightly as you leaned back over to him, now on all fours. You watched with nervous eyes as he unstrapped Truth-Teller from his thigh, pulling it from its sheathe. The metal blade glittered, shadow seeming to leak from its hilt. Azriel flipped the knife in his hand, catching it by the blade with two fingers. He turned his gaze from the knife to you.

“So eager to have that pretty mouth full, aren’t you?”

You nodded. He lifted his knife to your mouth, tapping the hilt against your bottom lip.

“Then open up.”

“You want me to–”

“Did I say speak?” He nearly snarled, his eyes narrowing.

You shook your head, earning a hum of agreement from Azriel. You licked your lips, opening them slowly so that Azriel can slip the hilt of his blade into your waiting mouth. It’s cold, and it tastes like the sweat of his palm. This blade has seen hundreds of battles, thousands of deaths, and more blood than you could fathom. You should be disgusted. Instead, you moan. You hear a humourless chuckle from above you, your gaze snapping up to Azriel’s.

“You like that, huh? I should’ve known. Always such a nasty slut for me. Isn’t that right?”

The tone in his voice has you clenching around nothing, humiliated and so turned on by his words. You tried to respond, maybe to deny his claim, maybe to agree, but all that came out around the hilt of his blade was a garbled moan. You sucked the hilt like you had his cock, keeping your eyes on his approving gaze.

“Fuck, that’s enough.” Azriel growled, pulling the blade from your mouth, “Turn around. Stay on all fours.”

You shuddered, nodding your head as you turned around quickly. Azriel’s hands roamed over your body, trailing over the lingerie you’d picked out for him. His fingers slipped beneath the straps of your top, toying with them by just slightly dragging them off your shoulders. He pressed a kiss to one of your shoulderblades as his hands slid over your stomach. His touch was reverent, a stark contrast to the way he’d shoved the hilt of his knife down your throat.

“Az, don’t tease.” You huffed.

“Not teasing. Appreciating.” He replied, biting down on your shoulder.

“I fucking missed this.”

His words had you melting, his fingers making quick work of your panties. He nipped at the skin of your thigh, your ass, as he dragged the lace down your legs, which had you trembling by the time he ran a finger down your core. He wasted no more time, plunging two fingers into you. You let out a startled moan, your head dropping forward as he slid his fingers in and out at a punishing pace. No more appreciating, then.

“Fuck, Az!” You moaned, earning you a bite on the hip and a curl of his fingers.

“I’ve barely touched you and you’re screaming my name. Is that all it takes, pet?”

“When it’s you.” Your answer is honest, and he knows it too.

His fingers don’t relent, not even as his thumb moves to press your clit. You cry out, clenching down on his fingers. This was what you’d been missing so badly. Your fingers could never do what his fingers did to you now. No matter what you tried, nothing could make you feel like Azriel did.

“I want you to come on my fingers first.” He said, his fingers curving upward to make you see stars.

Even without the order he gave, you were approaching your orgasm quickly. The sparks under your skin snapped brighter, hotter, and you knew you were a goner. A few quick rubs of his thumb had the cord in your gut snapping like a rubber band pulled too taut and you fell over the edge. You moaned his name as he continued to fuck you on his fingers, drawing out your whines and whimpers as long as he could.

He pulled his fingers out of you slowly, bringing them to his lips to suck them clean. You tried to catch your breath, your arms shaky beneath you as pleasure continued to zip through your veins. You choked on a sound at the blunt press of his cock against you, your pussy still clenching from having just come.

“Az, wait–”

“No.”

His patience had been thin the moment he’d landed back in Velaris after his mission. He had none left, not when he could feel your pussy trying to suck him in. Azriel pushed forward, groaning lowly as he sank into your tight heat. You whined at the intrusion, woefully understretched from just two of his fingers. The burn of him was thrilling, the stretch something you relished.

Your mate let out a deep grunt as he bottomed out inside you, stilling for a moment to trace his hand down your spine. Your head spun, dizzy from the feeling of him buried so deep, but you could’ve sworn you heard him mutter a quiet “beautiful” from where he stood above you.

When he drew his hips back and snapped them forward again, you practically screamed. Every nerve in your body was alive, singing at the feeling of having your mate home, having him inside you again. Azriel fucked you hard, not too fast, but deep and steady enough to have you crying out loudly at each thrust.

“You take me so well. Made for taking cock, aren’t you?” He grunted, settling his hands on your hips to pull you back into his thrusts.

“Yes, Az, made for it. I’m a slut for it.”

“That you are, pet. My cockhungry little whore.” He replied, making you moan louder still.

“Faster.” You breathed out, a knot once more forming in the pit of your stomach.

“Any faster and you’ll tell the whole house exactly what we’re up to.” He taunted, but the way his hips sped up betrayed him.

“A-As if they care.” You countered.

“Bite down on this.”

You focused your gaze to see Truth-Teller before you once more. Azriel’s hand carefully held the blade, the hilt balanced delicately in front of your face. You obliged, opening your mouth for the knife once more, sinking your teeth into the leather-wrapped hilt. The sound of your moans were muffled against the makeshift gag, and Azriel took that as all he needed to fully let loose.

He fucked into you without hesitation, his hips slamming into yours again and again. The four posts of the bed groaned as they shook from his movements. You felt a trail of spit slide down your chin from around the hilt of your mate’s weapon, dripping into the mattress below you. These sheets would need to be burned, you imagined. Your cunt clenched around him, making the male behind you groan.

“You’re close.” Azriel said, his voice deep.

You could only nod, even without the gag, the feeling of him rearranging your guts had sent you past the point of coherent sentences. One of Azriel’s scarred hands slid over your stomach and between your legs, two of his fingers rolling over your clit. He leaned over you, biting down on the shell of your ear as he fucked you.

“Come for me. Come because I said so. Because you’re mine.”

The growl in his voice was enough to tip you over the edge, your muscles tensing and relaxing as you came around him. Azriel managed two more harsh thrusts into you before he came with a low call of your name, rocking into you as you rode out your highs.

“Welcome home.” You murmured, once you’d let Truth-Teller fall from your mouth.

“I missed you so much.” He said, smoothing a hand over your side as he slid out of you, “I’ll avoid such long journeys in the future.”

“No, you won’t,” you laugh softly, breathlessly.

“You’re probably right. But I think I’ll keep you right here in this bed until the next one.”

“No complaints from me.”

Azriel chuckled softly, finally shucking off his uniform. His tanned muscles glistened with sweat, his tattoos now on proud display. You found your mouth watering all over again.

“Don’t give me that look. Rhysand told me he needed you to be able to walk tomorrow.” Azriel warned gently, though there was no malice behind it.

“Since when does Rhysand decide how much you get to fuck me?”

The first night of your stay in Tarquin’s estate passed without incident. Though the young lord of Summer’s wandering eyes were working as usual, Rhys managed to keep his temper calm. Every now and then, you would feel a small tug of irritation rising through your mating bond, like when Tarquin placed a broad hand on the small of your back to lead you to dinner.

The second day in the Summer Court, however, bought you more than you’d anticipated. Dressed in a light, coral pink gown with high slits that let your thighs peek through as you walked, you accompanied Tarquin on a walk through the grounds. Your plan had been to sweeten him up before his meeting with Rhys later. Perhaps if Tarquin was feeling pliant, he’d agree to the political proposals the Lord of Night brought before him.

With an arm looped with Tarquin’s, you walked through the shining grounds around his estate. The sun shone down in a beating heat, but it was nothing to complain about as birds sang and the sounds of waves splashing could be heard in the distance.

“I hope you slept comfortably last night.” Tarquin said, breaking the silence between you.

“Oh, yes, thank you. I always do when I’m in your court.”

Tarquin smiled at your response, his free hand coming to rest atop yours that sat on his arm.

“You should consider staying for longer than a few nights sometime.” He suggested.

“I don’t know about that,” you say, smiling sweetly at him, “I am needed in the Court of Night.”

“I imagine so. Your High Lord does well keeping you close by.”

“I work very hard.” You agree, though you know that isn’t quite what Tarquin meant.

The summer lord stopped walking, pulling you to a halt as well. He turned to you, his turquoise eyes boring into yours. The two of you are no more than a breath apart now. You can tell what he’s thinking. The way he’s looking at you holds no mystery.

“I do wish you would work for me sometime. You are truly a sight to behold.” He tells you.

“My fealty is to the Court of Night and its High Lord.” You answer.

“Perhaps you could offer me something other than your fealty, then?” Tarquin’s voice is saccharine and silky with his proposition, but it still makes your gut turn.

He is not your mate.

It’s in this moment that you catch a glimpse of looming shadows behind Tarquin. Your gaze shifts and you can see, a small ways off, Rhysand watching you. His eyes are hard set, his jaw clenched, and the look is truthfully much hotter than it should be. In a moment of worse judgement, you decide you want to see just how much Rhys will stand for. Just how much he’ll watch.

He’s been so busy lately with his responsibilities that he always comes to bed exhausted. Though he’d never deny a chance to be buried deep inside you, lately your nights end with you on top of him while he unwinds with deep groans. Maybe the jealousy that bubbles up the mating bond when your smile for Tarquin widens is a promise for something… more. You give Tarquin’s arm a gentle squeeze, forcing out a small giggle.

“What do you mean, my lord?” You feign innocence, tilting your head.

“Well, I…” Tarquin clears his throat, his smile becoming somewhat sheepish, “I find you quite beautiful. I’d be honoured to spend a night with you in my bed.”

You know Rhys hears it when a wave of anger flares through your bond. Perfect. You look away from Tarquin, playing bashful. You use the opportunity to spare another glance at Rhys, who by now looks only a few seconds away from killing Tarquin right where he stands. Your plan is working too well.

“Only one night?” You ask, your tone sickeningly sweet.

Tarquin is momentarily caught off guard, his deep brown skin flushing as he stares at you. Your words embolden him and he steps closer to you, one hand reaching to cup the back of your neck. You wouldn’t let him kiss you, not in a million years, but you also know that Rhysand is far more likely to interrupt than you are. Simply for the count of his speed.

“I would be the luckiest lord alive if I could have you in my bed every night.” Tarquin says, leaning towards you.

“I take my title as the luckiest very proudly.” A voice interrupts.

Tarquin’s movements are halted by a firm hand on his shoulder. Rhys is dragging the Lord of Summer backwards like he weighs nothing. Tarquin lets himself be moved, but not without furrowing his brows. He took a step back and watched in irritation as Rhys wrapped a firm arm around your waist.

“We were busy–”

“You better not finish that sentence. Whatever you and my mate were busy doing is none of my concern. Consider our meeting cancelled.” Rhys practically spat the words at Tarquin’s feet, his grip on your waist by no means gentle.

You hardly have a moment to open your mouth before the shadows consume you and disappear again, leaving you standing in Rhysand’s arms in the middle of his bedroom back home. As quickly as Rhysand had appeared beside you, he leaves you standing alone again. Within the blink of an eye, Rhys is sat up against his headboard, his leathery wings spread out behind him.

“Rhys–” You start, but he holds up a hand to cut you off.

“That’s not what you’ll call me tonight.” He says, his voice sharp as a knife.

“My lord,” You correct, watching as his head dips in approval, “I’m sorry for–”

“You are sorry for nothing.” He nearly growls, cutting you off once more, “Come here.”

He pats one of his thighs, watching you expectantly. You walk over to the bed, the mattress dipping beneath your knees as you crawl towards Rhys.

“Tell me, darling,” his voice is dripping with mockery as he speaks to you, “did you have fun playing your little game of flirt?”

“No…” You mutter, looking away from him.

He’s on you in a second, his hand gripping your jaw in a vice. His violet eyes are nearly black now, darkened with jealousy and lust. Your lips are half puckered by his grip, your cheeks smooshed against his fingers and thumb.

“Do not lie to me.” He sneers.

“M’sorry.”

“You’re sorry…?”

“M’sorry, my lord.”

“Better.” He hums, shoving you onto your back before releasing your chin, “Let’s try that again. Did you have fun flirting with Tarquin today?”

“Yes, my lord.” You answer honestly.

“I thought so. I could feel your mischief, tugging at that bond right here.” He places a hand on his chest, right over his heart, “Did you think you’d get away with it, sweetheart? Really?”

“No.”

“No? Then tell me, sweet thing, why would you offer to warm another man’s bed right before my eyes?” He taunts, his hands lifting to slowly unbutton his shirt. Every button revealed another patch of his toned chest to your hungry eyes, an effective distraction from his interrogation. “I asked you a question.”

“I wasn’t going to, Rhys!” You offer, his stoicism setting your nerves on edge, “I was just playing.”

“Just playing, is it? I see. Suppose it’s my turn to play then, don’t you think?” He smirks, his shirt falling to the floor.

He stretches his wings out behind him, groaning softly with the movement. Then he’s crawling over you, his back muscles shifting like an animal approaching its prey. His tongue darts out to lick his lips and anticipation flurries through you. Rhys looks… delicious. The hunger in his gaze sends a shiver down your spine that he stills by claiming your lips in a fiery kiss. Warmth explodes in your stomach, electricity shooting throughout your body at the ravenous way he kisses you.

Your hands shoot up to his raven hair, combing through it as you kiss him back. His tongue pushes between your lips, claiming, demanding, and you tug on his hair sharply in response. He grunts at the sting on his scalp, pulling back from the kiss to glare down at you. He collects your wrists in his hands before pinning them to the pillows above your head.

“Keep those there.” He commands, dipping down to nip at your jaw.

“You’re such a greedy thing.” He coos, his hands exploring over your body, “You have the High Lord of the Court of Night on his knees for you and you want to play around with other males?”

He tugs at your dress, pulling the material down your shoulders. His mouth leaves a hot trail of kisses down your neck, your chest, your stomach, and your breath is coming in quick pants now.

“Rhys, please…” You whine, making him let out a dark chuckle.

“You don’t get to ask me for anything tonight. You’re going to take what I give you and be grateful for it. Understand?”

“Yes, Rhys, I’ll be good, I swea–” You’re cut off by the sudden slap of his palm against your cheek.

“That’s not my name, sweetheart.”

“Yes, my lord. I’m sorry.” You reply, the ache in your core becoming more difficult to ignore with every passing second.

“Oh, that’s very good. Now keep still.”

His mouth dipped between your legs, his lips pressing a tender kiss to the inside of your thigh. The movement was so gentle, a stark contrast from how his hands gripped your hips tightly. It was a reminder that he loved you. It was also a warning; you’d receive no more tenderness from him tonight.

Not a moment later, his teeth dug into the flesh he’s just kissed, ripping a squeak from your lips. Your gaze dropped to where he rested, laying on his stomach, between your thighs. You were unsurprised to find him smirking up at you, his quick tongue darting out to soothe over his bite.

“Pretty mine.” He mumbled.

You whined in response, your hips attempting to push towards him to little avail with his grip on you. You dropped your head back against the mattress, biting your tongue gently to keep your impatient pleas to yourself.

“Whining already? Pathetic.” Rhys chuckled below you.

Heat flushed your cheeks, your body clenching at the words alone.

“It’s not my fault. It’s just what you do to me.”

You knew your words were just what Rhys wanted to hear as he brought his mouth to your core, flattening his tongue to lick one broad stripe against you. A sweet moan left your lips, your body shuddering at the feeling of him.

“That’s my sweet thing.” He coos, and then he presses his lips to you, his tongue coming out to drag small circles against your clit.

“Gods above…” You moan, his touch lighting your skin on fire.

His movements never falter, alternating between those deadly little circles and long, languid licks against you. He wasted no time, lapping at you like a man starved. You lifted your head to see his eyes flutter shut as he buries a deep groan into your cunt. On pure instinct, your hands shot into his hand, fingers tightening in the dark waves. Instantly, his movements froze.

“Rhys, wha—” You started, watching him pull away from you with a feral look in his eyes.

“I told you to keep still,” He growls, lifting a hand from your hips to wipe his mouth with tbe back of his hand.

“Messy girl can’t even follow orders.”

The heat in your body flared once more at the words, the tone of his voice, the tension in the bond. You slowly retracted your hands from his hair, an apology forming on your lips. You didn’t have a moment to speak, though, not as Rhys grabbed you roughly by your hips and flipped you onto your front. His knees bracketed your hips, his hands sliding up your back. One hand curled a fistful of your hair, yanking your head to the side.

“If you can’t keep still, I guess I’ll have to make you.” He murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to your ear.

You panted against the sheets, wetter than you’d admit to anyone but Rhys. Not that anyone could blame you. You were nearly drooling as you watched Rhys settle above you, his tattoos shifting with his muscles, his wings half-flared behind him. The first nudge of his thick tip against your entrance had you whimpering.

“Who do you belong to, little thing?” He asks softly, rubbing his dick teasingly along your pussy.

“You, Rhys.” You mumbled, cheek smooshed against the mattress.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he tutted, one hand coming down to slap your ass, earning a moan from you, “Speak clearly. Use my proper name.”

“You!” You corrected sharply, blinking innocently at him as best you could, “You, my lord, only you. I swear.”

Rhys’ grin was wolfish at your words.

“Good mate.” He near snarls, finally pushing into you.

He takes you roughly, one hand holding your hip, the other still fisted in your hair. He doesn’t give you a moment to adjust before dragging his hips back and driving back in to the hilt. You cry his name, the power behind his thrusts making you rock against the sheets.

“Fuck, sweet thing, you’re so fucking tight.” He groans, his hips slamming into yours.

“Rhys, you feel so good!” You moan in response, your eyes rolling back in your head.

The feeling of his thick cock filling you over and over had you reeling. The sparks shot down the mating bond sent you spiralling. Every time Rhys fucked you, it was like the first time. You’d never get used to the feel of him, never get tired of it. He shifted his hips, grinding them down into yours. The change in angle had him pressing just right inside of you. You let out a loud cry, desperately gripping at the sheets beneath you.

“Right there?” Rhys asks mockingly, all too aware that he knows every inch of your body.

All you can do it nod frantically, rocking back against his thrusts. Rhys lets out a dark laugh behind you, rough pants and groans slipping past his lips along side it.

“Needy thing. Is this what you wanted from Tarquin? Huh?”

You shook your head, tears dotting your lashes as he continued to pound into you. Another harsh slap came down on your ass, a broken moan tearing past your lips.

“Use your words.” Rhys demands, his thrusts never faltering.

“N-No!” You struggled out, the coil in your gut curling tighter, “Just you, Rhys. Only ever you.”

“That’s right. My mate. Mine.”

“Yours!” You echo.

Every drag of his cock inside you had you teetering closer to the edge. You knew he could tell, too familiar with your body. The hand in your hair yanked, hard, pulling you up so your back pressed to his chest. You drop your head back against his shoulder, moaning loudly.

“That’s it, sweetheart. You gonna come? You gonna fall apart for me?” Rhys asks, his grip releasing your hip so his fingers can rub your clit in tight, quick movements.

“Yes…” You moaned out, squeezing your eyes shut as you rode closer and closer to your high.

“Go on. Come for me, mate.” He murmurs in your ear, his hips still snapping sharply.

You fall over the edge with a silent cry, tears dripping down your cheeks as you clench around him. Rhys swears in your ear, his thrusts faltering for only a second. You whimper as he fucks you through it, pushing you back down to your place face first in the mattress. A few more quick jerks of his hips and Rhys is spilling into you with a deep moan.

A smile graces your lips as you melt against the bed, breathing heavily. Rhys lays down on top of you, his own breathing deep and stuttering.

“My mate. You did so good for me.” He tells you, pressing a sweet kiss to your temple.

“Yeah, well, you fucking wrecked me, mate.” You quip, though you doubt it sounds as sassy as you want to with how breathless your voice is.

“And you seem terribly put out by it.” He teases.

You chuckle, sliding one eye open as Rhys slowly pulls out of you. He stands, stretching his wings out and rolling his shoulders back. He’s gorgeous. His gaze rakes over you, taking you in appreciatively. Before he can get too excited again, he runs a hand through his hair, letting out a soft breath.

“Let me get something to clean you up. Water, too.” He offers.

“Maybe reschedule your meeting with Tarquin, too.”

He snarls, eyes narrowing at you.

“Do not say his name in our bedroom.”

“Touchy,” you tease, “My apologies, High Lord.”

“You’re a menace.”

“You love me.” You smile.

“That I do.” He answers.