#lddrabbles

Elain circled the bed slowly after placing the last restraint, hand dragging around the bedding to make her presence known to her mate now tied to the bed. She heard Tamlin shift from his chair in the corner, groaning slightly at the sight before him. 

“Don’t move your hands from the armrest, High Lord, or I'll have to tie you up too. It’s not your turn yet.” 

At that, both males groaned again, Lucien’s breaths coming in pants before she even touched him. Elain slowly made her way onto the bed, tracing her hands teasingly along Lucien’s body as she moved up to straddle his blindfolded face. Grabbing his hair to position his mouth properly, she leaned down to whisper in his ear, still loud enough for Tamlin to hear from where he sat naked and painfully erect. 

“Now Lucien, eat my pussy like a good pet and I’ll let Tamlin come over and play with us. Show him how to please me.”

Lucien breathlessly choked out a, “yes” as Elain settled her soft thighs on either side of his head. As she lowered herself completely, she let out a soft moan as his tongue immediately got to work running over her already dripping slit and drinking her down like a fine wine. Arching her back, Elain looked over her shoulder to ensure Tamlin was keeping his hands off himself. 

He was seated with his legs spread wide, arm muscles straining as his claws pierced the plush chair in his struggle to obey the lady of the house. “Oh, so you can be trained,” Elain cooed toward him, breaths becoming more shallow as pleasure built low in her spine. Lucien was tied spread eagle beneath her, his thick cock straining and leaking onto his stomach as his mouth worked her toward release. With one finger, she beckoned Tamlin over to the bed and gave him his next order. 

“I want you to suck Lucien off so he comes with me. Think you can do that High Lord? Think you can follow my command?” Tamlin growled from low in his chest, but practically jumped out of the chair to join them on the bed. In one fluid motion he took Lucien’s cock deep to the back of the throat, his nose hitting the red hair at the base with each pass he made. As he worked his friend in his mouth, Tamlin went to grab his own cock, but Elain was too fast and she grasped his wrist. Tutting, she chastised him and said “Tamlin you know the rules, you can’t touch yourself until I say you can. And now you’ll have to wait for us to finish first.” 

Tamlin let out another growl while he was deep on Lucien’s cock, causing the male to trust his hips off the bed as he groaned around Elain’s clit. Grinding her hips harder onto Lucien’s face, Elain panted out, “I’m close, Tamlin. If he doesn’t come with me, you don't get to come at all.” 

They’d done this before, many times, and Tamlin had learned both their tells long ago. It didn’t take him long to match his ministrations to the motion of Elain’s hips. One hand went down to play with Lucien's balls, drawing him just as close to climax as his mate. Noticing the slight stagger of Elain’s movement as she tensed before release, he gave one hard tug on Lucien’s sac and sucked his dick deep into the back of his throat, applying the pressure he knew would send his friend directly to bliss. Elain screamed her orgasm right as Tamlin began to drink down hot spurts of Lucien’s cum. 

When they’d come down, Tamlin smirked to himself. He was still learning to follow orders, but he certainly knew how to get his favorite fox and fawn off at the same time. Elain rolled off Lucien, removing the blindfold and untying his limbs as he sat up. She curled into his side and they both faced the High Lord kneeling at the foot of the bed. 

Finally, Elain spoke. “What do you think Luci, was he good enough to deserve getting to fuck me?” 

“I’d say he did quite well, petal.” Lucien spoke from beside her, running his hands up and down her body, still coiled for another round. 

“Do you want to watch him fuck my pussy or my ass, mate? You deserve to make the choice.”

Lucien hummed contemplatively beside her, locking eyes with Tamlin for a moment before responding. 

“How about I don’t watch, and we both fuck you? I don’t want anyone else fucking that pretty pussy except me, but he can have your ass if you’d allow.” 

Elain shivered in anticipation, watching Tamlin slowly stroke himself as he looked between them.

“I like the sound of that very much.” 

Azriel’s shadows were frantic as they pulled him faster and faster toward their mate. Hurry they practically yelled at him he needs us. One word kept coming through clearer than the rest, and each time he heard it, Azriel picked up his pace. Pain.

As he reached the hallway of Eris’s room, he began to see the trail of blood, leading from where he knew the Autumn Court dungeons lie, where Beron loved to take his sons. Barreling through the door, terrified about what he was about to see, Azriel tugged once more on the bond that had been silent for far too long. 

His breath stopped entirely as he took in his mate, beaten and broken, lying face down on the rug in front of the crackling fireplace, as if it had taken all of this strength just to make it into the room. “Eris…” Azriel’s voice broke as he spoke, rushing to turn his mate over. “Azriel, is that you?” Eris stirred as he was jostled, wincing in pain at the bruises and cuts littering his unclothed abdomen. The faint tinge of faebane around the edges of the wounds and the rag stained the same clutched in Eris’s hand told Azriel all he needed to know. 

Azriel went to reach for the cloth, but Eris pulled it away, inhaling sharply with the quick motion. “No, I can do it. I can take care of myself.” Eris rolled out of his mate’s arms, curling in on his body to try and protect himself from whatever he perceived would happen if he ever let anyone take care of himself. He couldn’t be weak, couldn’t ever show fault…not if he wanted to survive.

Eris tried to sit up, grinding his teeth together as he found the pain, pretending not to notice the shadows gathered around him, trying to ease his motions. Azriel sat back, present but silent, letting his mate work through this himself as much as he could bear. As Eris went to clean the next spot the pain was so intense he couldn’t choke down his sob fast enough. Azriel came up behind him, slowly and gently. “Please love, let me help you.” 

Letting out a shaking, teary breath Eris responded, “If I let you help, you’ll think I’m weak…they’ll all think I’m weak. I have to do this Azriel…” 

Azriel placed a hand around Eris’s still holding the rag, squeezing with tight reassurance. “But you are not alone, Eris, and you are not weak. Receiving help is not a weakness, it’s one of our greatest strengths. Please, let me take care of you. Let me in.” Taking several shaky breaths, Eris closed his eyes, leaning his head back to wrest on Azriel’s solid chest behind him. With each passing second, Azriel felt his mate relax into his arms, the adrenaline waning from his system as he finally started to allow himself to feel safe, to be cared for. 

Moments later, Eris removed his hand from Azriel’s, leaving the cloth behind. Turning his head into his mate’s leathers Eris nodded, a soft and tentative “okay,” slipping from his battered lips as he finally gave in and allowed someone to care for him. As he let that final protective wall drop between him and Azriel and gave this last piece of himself over. 

Azriel placed a soft kiss in Eris’s blood matted hair before he got to work, swiftly and surely cleaning the wounds. Eris barely made a sound, grunting softly at the particularly sensitive swipes of the cloth over his damaged body. But for the first time in all the years they’d been together, Eris allowed himself to give this last bit of him over to his mate. He let him help. 

Some time later, when the wounds were properly cleaned and Eris was finally beginning to heal, Azriel carried him to the washroom, gently placing him in the tub that was already full of hot, soapy water. Strand by strand, Azriel detangled and washed his mate's hair, brushing each long piece out and cleaning it to his mate’s satisfaction. Every time before this, Eris had allowed him to watch as he cleaned himself up after an evening with his father, and Azriel had paid special attention to how he washed his hair. 

This final part of his post-torture ritual seemed to be the final cleansing, a way to wash the sins of his father fully from his body before he allowed himself to sleep. Azriel had taken notes, praying to the Mother for the day that Eris would allow him to help. And now that that day had come, he was fully ready. His mate, breathing deeply in the tub, looked up at him as Azriel finished and placed the brush he’d been using on the edge of the tub. 

“You’ve been paying attention.” 

“It is my job, you know.” 

Eris winced slightly at that, and Azriel hastily added on.

“You are not a task Eris. Caring for you is not a burden. It’s a privilege. And I’m honored you let me close enough to let me help you.” He tacked on the finally aspect of that statement in his mind, but Eris heard it anyway. 

“Well, I’ll be checking your work Shadowsinger, but it seems as if you’ve done…adequately. For a first try that is.” 

Azriel’s heart swelled for in this banter, the love language that was uniquely their own, he heard the unsaid words. Thank you for waiting. Thank you for knowing. And thank you for helping. 

A loud crash sounded through the main hall of the river house as Lucien burst through the doors, coat askew and breathing heavily. 

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Rhysand jumped from the couch where he lounged next to Feyre, who sat up and immediately asked, “is he okay?” 

Lucien stood hunched and disheveled, sorrow in his eyes as he looked between the mated pair before him. When he’d caught his breath enough to speak he could only get out a few words, “he’s not well,” before they were both heading out the door, brushing past him carelessly. 

“How was he when you last saw him?” Feyre asked as she rushed to keep up with her mate's frantic longer legs.

“Not bad enough to worry you.” 

Feyre scoffed, pacing past him to turn and face him, stopping Rhysand in his tracks. “That was not the deal, Rhysand. We agreed you could go see him in person without me until he felt ready if, and only if, he was okay in the meantime.” She stared down his violet eyes, unyielding in her anger and fear. 

Rhysand had continued to visit the Spring Court in hopes of helping Tamlin rekindle his control. They hadn’t counted on it rekindling other things as well. After one particularly long visit, Rhys had explained his former relationship with Tamlin before they’d become high lords.

After Rhys revealed their former, and newly sparked feelings, Feyre had started writing back and forth with the male she’d once hoped would become her mate, and was surprised to find her own feelings for him returning as well. Tamlin it seemed was happy to love them both, but his depression and the trauma he’d been dealt and never dealt with had taken its toll.

Rhysand’s violet gaze was full of emotion, pain for the male they both had grown to love again, fear for his condition, conviction to protect Tamlin, and shame from deceiving the female they both loved so deeply. Eventually, he bent under the solid will of Feyre’s stare, dropping his head toward the ground between them. 

“Take me to him” she said, a statement with no room for question, as she held her hand out to grab his own. Rhys quickly winnowed them to the place in Spring he knew Tamlin would be. 

Tamlin’s struggle with his own monsters had been going on much longer than he’d wanted to admit, and when he’d finally started opening up to Rhys about it after that one solstice, it was like a damn broke, drowning him thoroughly. Today had been worse than most. He and Lucien had been discussing how the courts were still healing from the Hybern War and Amarantha’s reign under the mountain, when he’d suddenly been triggered by a particularly bad bout of memories.

Unable to stop himself, he’d transformed into his beast, attempting to punish himself for being the cause of so much suffering. His friends, his courts, the other courts, and worst of all the suffering of the two people he held closest to his heart. 

When Feyre and Rhysand arrived, he was huddled on the floor of the cabin he ran off to to be alone, away from the prying eyes of his court. Both arms wrapped around his head and knees tightly as if he could hold himself together while his claws pierced into his skin, drawing thin streams of blood that flowed down his bare skin. He’d managed to stop harming himself most of the time, but still couldn't stop this one action to hurt both to punish his wrongs and to remind himself he was still alive. 

In the doorway, Feyre let out a soft sound somewhere between a gasp and a sigh, her tattooed hand rising to stifle the noise as she looked up on Tamlin for the first time in years. Rhysand moved forward slowly, his focus solely on the male before him. “Tam, it’s me,” he said as he slid onto his knees in front of the broken person in front of him, taking his tortured face between both his hands. 

As Rhys tried to tilt Tamlin’s face up toward his, he felt the male recoil away. Placing their voices together, Rhys spoke in a soft voice cracked with emotion. “Please don’t hide from me. I’m not scared of you. We want to help, Tamlin. Please let us help.” 

With that word, Tamlin looked up, his dulled eyes currently a deep, pained green. With a voice harsh and hoarse from what Rhys was sure had been hours of screaming, Tamlin spoke, “we? I thought Lucien left?”

Feyre had slowly walked into the cabin as Rhysand steadied her first love, until she was not standing a few paces away as she spoke. “He did, but he didn’t abandon you Tamlin. He came to get us, to get me.” Slowly, Tamlin turned to face her. Rhys’s hands still steadied him, one caressing his jaw tenderly, while the other softly ran across the spots Tamlin had punctured his shoulder. 

Unable to stay away any longer Feyre rushed forward the last steps, dropping to her knees and wrapping her arms delicately, yet firmly around his neck. After a long moment, Tamlin spoke, his face buried in her neck. “Why are you here…why would you bother to care for me, Feyre…after everything I did.”

Feyre pulled back, one hand caressing Tamlin’s chin as the other reached to cover Rhys’s hand still rubbing the sore marks on his shoulder. “We are both here Tamlin, because we see you. Because we’ve been where you are, and you deserve someone in your corner as you work through this.” 

Tamlin seemed to scoff at that, as if he either believed he didn’t deserve to heal, or was incapable. “That doesn’t explain why you are here, either of you.” As he said the second part of the statement, Tamlin looked between the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court, sensing the cooling mist of Rhys’s magic that always seemed to calm him.

“We’re here because we love you, Tamlin.” Rhys’s smooth and soothing words hanging in the air between the three of them. Feyre spoke then, adding to her mate’s words, “both of us. You deserve to be loved.” 

Using her hand to tilt Tamlin’s chin up to meet her gaze. “Do you remember what you told me, after you brought Rhys back? You told me to be happy. You deserve to be happy too, Tamlin.”

Rhysand’s one hand rested on his mate’s back while she held Tamlin’s gaze, his other gently holding Tamlin’s neck, thumb brushing against his jaw softly, in the way he’d often done so long ago. “Let us help you come back, teach you to be happy again. The three of us.”