You weren’t sure how many people were saying your name, but they were too damn loud. “Mrs. Kent—” a woman’s voice said “—you need to wake up. Mrs. Kent—” And, God, you really wished you didn’t because the lights were so bright. Did they turn them onto the highest setting? You weren’t sure you had ever seen lights so bright. You squint your eyes, then try blinking slowly to chase away the sleepiness. 

“Would you like some water, Mrs. Kent?” she asked. You think you said yes, because suddenly there was a styrofoam cup in your hand and you had drank half of its contents. You hear a thank you, which you guess is from you, but you aren’t very aware of your mouth moving. 

“Are you okay, sweetie? Does anything hurt?” the woman asked. “Why are you crying?”

Oh—you are crying. The same thing happened a few years ago when you had your wisdom teeth taken out. Maybe you were just destined to sob like a baby when you come to. You wipe at the corner of your eyes. The skin is already drying out. How hard were you crying? Your lip wobbles as you manage to wail, “I don’t know! My belly button hurts!”

The woman giggled and told you, “That’s normal, sweetie, and so is the crying. You wouldn’t believe the amount of big, burly men who come out of anesthesia crying. Nothing to be ashamed of.”

Your lip is still wobbling when you let out a weak “okay.”

“Can I check your incisions?” she asks. You managed a nod, so she lifted the sheet. You guess they looked fine, because she let out a satisfied hum and turned toward the monitor. 

You want your Clark. He’s your anchor. You really want to hold his hand. You grip the cup a little tighter.

“We need to check your vitals and then we’ll take you to your husband. He’s already in the room waiting for you,” the woman said. Did you say that out loud? “Your BP is a little high, but that’s because you’re anxious coming out of the surgery. We’ll check a few more times before we move you. It’ll probably be about ten minutes, okay?”

You can see well enough now to know she stepped away to a counter where another nurse is standing. Another sob escaped you as you fail to take another drink. The straw makes that sucking sound when there’s nothing left to give. Where’s Clark? Why did the nurse say you couldn’t see him? 

The blood pressure cuff squeezed your arm. “Your BP is looking better,” the nurse said. When did she come back over? You blinked slowly at the ceiling and wish for Clark again. “Just one more time and you can see your husband, is that alright?”

There’s another thank you and a sniffle. You’re still not sure it’s coming from you, but the woman to your right is chatting about her work and the man to your left is answering questions from his nurse, so you guess it has to be you. 

Suddenly, the nurse is removing the blood pressure cuff and wheeling you down the hall. “There’s a bit of a bump here,” she warns you as she starts to turn the corner. Despite the heads up, it jars you enough to whine. “Alright, I’m backing you into your room.”

It’s a tight squeeze, barely enough to turn the bed into the proper position. Finally, you see your Clark, worry etched onto his face. He can hear your heartbeat, how it’s still a little high, and see a tear streaking down your face. He’s quick to your side, thumb wiping it away. 

“Are you alright, darling?”

You’re too busy pressing your cheek into his palm, so the nurse told him, “She was a little anxious when she woke up. But that’s completely normal, I think she was just ready to see you and go home.”

Clark’s shoulders relaxed. “Good, good.”

“Whenever you’re ready, Mrs. Kent, you can get dressed and then another nurse will come out with your discharge papers,” she said. “There may be a little blood, but it’s nothing to worry about. As long as it’s not anymore than a typical period, you’re okay.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Clark said, shaking the nurse’s hand. She leaves and Clark slips away from your side. When he returns, he has your water bottle and a couple pills. “Are you okay to take the GasX now?”

You nod and press the pills to your tongue. Clark helps you lift the bottle to your lips and only pulls away when you stop drinking. 

“Are you ready for gum now?” Right—gum. The nurse practitioner told you during pre-op that it helps to chew gum as soon after surgery as you can manage. Something about it tricking your organs into “waking up” sooner so the gas the doctor used to inflate your belly can be expelled faster. 

You chew on the gum Clark handed you. “How much was there?”

“He found it on top of your vagina and under your right ovary. They got it all out,” Clark informed you. “He said it was around Stage 1 or 2, and that there was a lot of inflammation.”

“Good, good. Glad I’m not in pain for nothing.” You lifted yourself up. “Help me get dressed?”

You didn’t need to ask, because Clark was already offering you support. You leaned against him as you swayed on your feet. He stepped away briefly to get your clothes, so you prop yourself against the wall as a wave of dizziness hits you. 

“Do you need to go to the bathroom first?”

You nodded and slowly shuffled toward the toilet. Clark held his arms out to catch you in case you stumbled or fell. As you try to go, he handed you your panties and a pad.

“You’re perfect,” you mumbled. 

“I just love you, darling.”

He helped you up again as you got up and shuffled back to the bed. You manage to pull your shorts on, on your own, but ask for Clark’s assistance in hooking your bra. While he’s there, he pulls off the stickers from the heart monitor as gently as he can, pausing each time you hiss. You slipped on your shirt, then sit on the bed to exchange your grippy socks for regular socks. 

Knock! Knock!

“Mrs. Kent?” The nurse poked her head in. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yes, thank you.”

She comes in and presents you with your discharge papers. While you glance them over, she turns to Clark. “How far are you parked?”

“I’m at the garage, ma’am.”

“Okay, I’ll give you a few minutes head start to pull the car around. But before you go, I have just a few things to go over with you both.” She ran through the same things they told you in pre-op, but paused when she got near the end. You barely noticed the pointed look she gave your Clark. “—and no sex for at least two weeks.”

Clark looked affronted that she would even imply that he’d do anything to harm your recovery. “Not until she’s fully healed and comfortable,” he said, returning his own pointed look. “She’s the most important person in this room.”

While the nurse appeared satisfied at that, you added, “He’s a sweetie.”

She smiled at you. “I’m sure he is.”

“He is!” and you would not let it go until she unequivocally agreed. 

One thing you didn’t quite realize was that Clark was quite the hoverer. Despite his superhuman abilities, that of being able to see your internal organs and hear every little abnormality, he truly was a worry wart. Any other time, you might have been teasing him, but today you appreciated it. As the afternoon became evening, you grew tired of sitting in your hospital filth and asked for Clark to help you shower. 

He immediately began to look over your discharge papers. “Is that a good idea? It says here to not shower for twenty-four hours.”

“The nurse said that’s just because I might fall because of the anesthesia. Everything down there is waterproof.” You batted your eyelashes at him the best you could manage. “I need my big, blue softy to help me.”

A smile quirked at Clark’s lips. “You tell me the second it feels too much.”

“I always do.”

Clark stood and walked around in front of your recliner. He helped you press the leg rest down, then provided his arms for you to lean your weight on as you pulled yourself up. You were able to walk on your own, though Clark was a half step behind you just in case. You shuffled slowly into the bathroom, wincing at the brighter light. 

You began to pull your shirt over your head while Clark turned on the shower, making sure the water temperature wasn’t too hot. Your bra is next, you hissing as you peel it away. The doctors went a little wild with the iodine around your breasts, so the material stuck to your skin. Clark was by your side in an instant, blue eyes piercing through you as he weighed whether you needed help or if he should be a silent observer. However, when it did come to your shorts and panties, he did have to help as you still couldn’t quite bend over. 

He helped you over to the shower, reminding you to watch your step. You let the water wash over you and do your best to avoid getting your belly button wet. After dampening the wash cloth, you turned the water off and pulled back the curtain. Clark soaped up the cloth then began to gently scrub at your skin. You help as best you can manage, lifting one of your breasts so he can get all of the iodine. 

The soap makes it difficult to keep a good grip, so it keeps slipping from your fingers. “You’re a terrible patient,” he teased.

“It’s slippery!”

Clark helped you hold up your breast up and continued to scrub. Once he was satisfied that the iodine was gone, he moved down to your belly. “Tell me if it hurts.”

“You’re good—” but you winced as he neared your belly button. “Sorry—”

“Don’t apologize.” He put his hand on your hip and urged you to turn out. Clark scrubbed down your back and down your legs, then wrung out the wash cloth. “Alright, you’re good to rinse.”

You nodded as he turned the shower back on. You kept your back to the shower head and leaned around to let the water wash over your front, cupping your hands and splashing the harder-to-reach areas. Once you were satisfied that you washed away all the soap, you turned the shower off. Clark pulled back the curtain and handed you a towel. 

“Pat, don’t rub,” he said. 

“I need help with my legs,” you said once you finished drying the top half of your body. 

Clark knelt in front of you, caressing your legs as he pat you dry. A part of you felt bitter that you couldn’t have sex with him when he looked so devoted to your health and care. But the idea of being touched made a shiver run down your spine, and not the good kind at that. When you’re better, you decided, you would worship your Clark as much as he is worshipping you. 

The process of getting dressed passed you by. One of Clark’s old t-shirts from his Smallville days was slipped on and a pair of panties. Pretty simple, considering you hated the idea of more clothes touching you than necessary at the moment. And so you began the trek back to the living room.

“Careful, careful!” Clark said as you shuffled over to the recliner. He held his hands out as you sank down and only moved away once you had shifted comfortably into position. Clark was gone and back in a blink, your water bottle placed on the table beside you and your prescribed medication in hand. 

“I’m not that fragile,” you grumbled, but your whine as you adjusted your weight said otherwise.

“To me, you’re always fragile.” Clark smiled softly at you. He lifted your knuckles to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss. “I love you. I want to take care of you. I made vows, remember?”

“You remind me frequently,” you giggled, “as if I’d ever forget.”

You realized, in all those years of hating each other, he had never been inside your house, let alone your bedroom. You quickly muttered out a “door on the left” before reattaching your lips to his, you hands having departed from his hair to dig your nails ever so slightly into his back, just enough pressure that he could feel a dull pain through his shirt. He made quick work of opening the door, and as soon as you were both in the bedroom you ground down against his crotch. He let go of your legs, breaking the passionate kiss. You let out a whine of protest, but Danny reached out to grip your hips, grinding you against him. And yet, he wouldn’t go back to kiss you. 

You let out a small giggle. “What, don’t like that I had to take the lead?”

“Take the lead? I know that I kissed you first- you know what? You’re...” his voice dropped to a dangerously low - albeit sexy - tone. “You’re such. A. Bitch.”

His hands groped at the bottom of your shirt, attempting to lift it up and off, but you gripped his wrists, stopping him. “You first, Wagner.”

He didn’t even hesitate, the impatience prevalent in his voice. “Nope.”

He gripped at your shirt, taking it from the hem and lifting outwards instead of upwards. The “riiiippp” sound was loud and clear enough to temporarily shock you to into freezing. He looked at your now exposed (but still bra-encased) breasts. You could see his eyes shifting, his mind surely racing. 

“Thank you, Daniel. For giving me something to be a bitch about.”

You didn’t know what had come over you. Maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe it was years of pent of aggression. Whatever the reason, managed to spin the two of you around, pushing roughly against his chest to position him with his back against the bed. He reached up to grab your hips, yanking you down against him. His large hands groped your breasts, not even bothering to undo your bra before diving in to touch your skin. He ran his thumb over your nipples a few times, gauging your reaction. 

You bent down to kiss him, giving him a hard kiss before pulling back and quipping, “I don’t have for games, Wagner. Quit playing with me.”

He scoffed, bucking up into your hips, chuckling at the pathetic, whiny moan that left your lips. “I’ll play with you all night, if I want to.”

You rolled your eyes and pulled yourself away from the proximity of his face, peeling off the rest of your torn shirt and shimmying down to settle between his legs. He propped himself up on one arm, the other snaking down to unbutton his pants. You gave his wandering hand a quick swat, making sure he retreated it before making quick work of his pants. He lifted his hips down just enough for you to pull down his boxers and pants and free his cock from its’ confines. You paused; your breath caught in your chest as you tried to process Danny’s cock. Ther had been a few times, at a few shows, that you had seen the strain of Danny’s cock against his pants. So, you had deduced he was big, you had even done some deep-undercover Twitter work to see what the fans theorized. But Danny was big. 

You looked up at him, a huge smirk on his face. You quickly turned you focus back to his cock, now more determined than ever. You put yourself in another place, another mindset, out of your body. You stuck your tongue out and flattened it against the base of his cock, licking all the way up to the tip, where you left a suckling kiss. You heard a quiet hitch in Danny’s breath, but you spared yourself a look, instead sucking on his tip a little more before beginning to take him down your throat.

“F-fuck!...” Danny stuttered loudly, followed by a muffled hiss as he assumedly bit his lip.

All your focus went into bobbing, the movement of your hands as they worked the rest of his length, and the bobbing of your head. Danny’s legs were twitching, trying not to thrash everywhere. You took a deep breath, pulled you mouth up just enough to give his top one last lick, before taking him as deep as you could, feeling him just there in the back of your throat. You gagged, but took a deep breath and stayed there, but only for a second. Danny had grabbed you by your hair and yanked you off his cock, and once you were straightened up on your knees, he gave you another firm slap on the ass. You decided to play up the theatrics, dramatically allowing yourself to plop face first into the mattress. He snorted as you stretched your back down like a cat propping your ass up in the air. He hooked his fingers under the band of both your panties and your sleep shorts, pulling them down and out from under your legs. Your body jumped slightly at the feeling of his finger against your core, barely pressing a single finger into you after having swirled it around in the wetness that had been pooling in your shorts. You bucked back into his finger, silently begging for more. He gave you another swat, your ass stinging and no doubt red by now. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, will you hurry up and do something? Because if not I just need five minutes alone- oh!”

His tongue was what shut you up. The feeling of his tongue against your clit, holding your hips up to grant him more access to your core. He lapped eagerly at your clit, his tongue flicking at just the right speed to make you squirm in his grasp. “Fuck bab- Danny!” 

He moaned against your core, causing a shiver up your spine. You became lost in the swirling pattern he started against you, settling your head down on the pillow with a content sigh. You lifted you head in protest at the loss of feeling against your clit, but let out a loud, almost porn-like moan at the feeling of his fingers burying inside you. He took attention to you like you had to him, clearly watching how your body was reacting in order to find that oh-so-sensitive spot inside you. 

“I... I’m-”

“Yeah?” he purred out, his tone dripping with ego.

You let out a frustrated groan, but your body betrayed your feelings of annoyance as your orgasm took over. He didn’t let you ride it through, however, yet your body trembled slightly at the feeling. You felt him looming over you, leaning across your back to whisper in your ear, his breath hot against your neck, “That was less than five minutes.”

You pushed yourself back against him, once again to prideful to beg verbally. 

Danny had caught on to your games however, holding your hips still with one hand and keeping the tip of his cock against your entrance. “Use your words, princess.” 

“Danny-”

“Hmm?”

You closed your eyes, holding back a groan at his cockiness. You swallowed your pride. “Danny... please, please, fuck me.”

He wasted no time entering you, sheathing his length inside you in one go. You felt some discomfort, which made you jolt slightly, but no real pain. Danny gave a few slow thrusts, but felt you tensing up, and stopped.

You huffed, blowing your hair out of your face. “You don’t have to...”

You trailed off at the feeling of Danny pressing a gentle kiss to your spine. It made you freeze, but not because you were in pain. 

You and Daniel Wagner had known each other for years. And for all those years, you had assumed he had hated you. You had held out hope, but a part of you had learned to resent him for his coldness. Yet, you never hated him. As your confused, but never negative, feelings for him grew, the attraction you had felt for him blossomed ten-fold. Could it be? Was it all wrong? Was there something in his heart for you other than hatred?

He slowly began to pump into you, moving at a slow but deep pace. The moaning between the two of you synced up, harmonizing his deep, raspy tone with your lighter, softer moans. He kept a hand on your hip, rubbing gentle circles into you. You felt another orgasm bubbling up inside you, but it was ripped away from you when Danny pulled out. He was as swiftly as he could, and you grinned a little at the thought that he didn’t really want to hurt you. He flipped you on your back and you took in his sexed-out state, the way his curls were slightly damp and sticking to him, the sheer coat of sweat he had, the softer but equally horny look he had in his eyes. You didn’t even hear the soft “wow...” you let out, but you did notice the way all of his features softened at once. Still, there was some doubt in your mind. He entered you again, and when his arm moved beside your head, you tilted your chin slightly, thinking he might give you a cheeky slap or apply some pressure to your neck. That is, you assumed, this was still hate fucking. Danny, however, had softened completely, instead taking his hand and gently cupping your cheek. You stared at him, wide eyed, a gaze he met with a tenderness in his gaze. You gasped when he began to move, his pace slightly faster than before but just as deep. You felt your eyes fluttering, getting washed up in the tidal wave of pleasure gently crashing over you with every stroke. Danny pulled you back ashore, his thumb rubbing gentle strokes into your cheek. You bit your lip as you felt your orgasm nearing again, and by the way he was groaning you could tell he wasn’t far behind. 

“Danny?”

He hummed in question, leaning down to give you a gentle but firm kiss. 

When your lips detached, you reached your hand to grasp at his shoulder, giving him an affectionate squeeze. “You can come in me.” You whispered. He groaned and ducked his head down, burying it in the crook of your neck. You closed your eyes at the feeling of his mouth on your sensitive skin, the both of you sighing against each other as you both orgasmed. He fucked you through it at a slower pace until your legs started trembling from overstimulation. He pulled out gently, spreading one last sigh against your neck. 

You began to rub soothing pattern into his back. There was a small part of you that still feared that, despite Danny’s sudden change in demeanor, he would go back to hating you again. If that was true, you wanted to keep him in this state of calm for as long as possible. 

He lifted off of you, his own muscles twitching in the aftermath. He sat up, looking down at you. You propped yourself up with the pillows, looking back at him. You crossed your arms.

“Here, let me go get you a towel-”

“What the hell was that, Daniel?”

He looked like a deer in headlights. He nervously scratched at his arm. “I don’t... I don’t know what you mean.” He looked down and you sighed. 

“Danny. Please look at me.”

He looked up, this time his features looked guilty. You sniffled, feeling yourself overcome with emotion. “What did I ever do to make you hate me?”

He shook his head, reaching over to touch your crossed arms in reassurance. “I... No, y/n... I never hated you. Ever.” He let out a long sigh. “I... I know I’ve been a total dick. And it went on for way, way too long. I...” he rolled his eyes, letting out a small, sarcastic laugh. “In High School, I... fell in love with you. Like, cheesy, rom-com, love-at-first-sight shit. I thought you weren’t into me, so I pushed you away. But I saw... I saw how hard you were trying, and after a while I just got so embarrassed of myself, I didn’t know how to stop. And then you started to push back and... I gave up. Figured I didn’t stand a chance.”

You were shocked. You had run a million scenarios through your head as to what Danny hated about you. None of those scenarios even remotely hinted to his confession. You giggled and he looked at you, an adorable, confused look on his face. “You, Daniel Robert Wagner, thought you didn’t have a chance with little ‘ol me?” You reached out to him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. His hands flew to your sides, his forlorn look melting away, a boyish grin forming on his face in its stead. “Danny, c’mon. Every moment since I met you, you’re all I think about. All I want. You drive me... fucking insane,” you both giggled, his laugh rumbling through his chest. “But guess what?”

He hummed in question again, tilting forward to press his forehead against yours.

Cardan’s tail swished at his feet. From across the room, he watched as you danced with Jude. A smile tugged at his lips. His wife and his best friend. What luck he had been afforded for the two incredible women in his life to get along so well? He knew, of course, that you would. In your time at school, you often admonished Cardan for any cruel tricks he played on Jude. She didn’t deserve that treatment, you’d always say. Be better, because I know you can be. You were the only person he would allow to speak to him like that. After all, you were the only person who thought him above the part he played. If all of Elfhame thought him cruel, you saw him for he truly was. Jude, eventually, came to see that too—both your kindness and the mask Cardan wore.

You caught his eye and smiled. Cardan watched as you took Jude’s hand, gently urging her out of the swarm of dancing fae. She smiled appreciatively at you. It was difficult for humans to find their way out of these revels. If you were not watching out for her, Jude might have danced until she died. 

“You didn’t have to stop,” Cardan said as you approached him. Jude slipped away to the refreshment table.

“I cannot stand to be apart from you. I’ve had enough of a fill of that for a lifetime,” you said. Cardan’s heart soared. Your arms wrapped around his waist, and your head came to rest against his chest. “Besides, I think Jude was beginning to tire.”

“I do not plan to let you stray from my side for a long time.” Cardan’s tail wrapped around you and pulled you closer. If Cardan could achieve it, he would mould you against him so that you never could leave again. “I am glad you and Jude are friends now. She has so few she feels she can trust.”

“As am I.” Your smile faltered for a moment. So quick that Cardan might not have noticed it if he hadn’t committed himself to memorizing every part of you. He reached up, thumb tugging at the corner of your lips so that the smile might remain in place. “May I confess something?”

“Anything.”

You took a breath. You did not speak immediately. Instead, you took the time to straighten the crown that rested against his brow. “I left because I thought Jude was the one you cared for. After you were crowned High King, you were seldom from her side. It broke my heart to think that I had lost your favor. I would step aside for your happiness, but I could stand by and watch it happen.”

Cardan’s tail wrapped tighter around you. You would not run again, but he couldn’t stop the fear from sinking deep into his veins. “I was scared that you would not like the crown I wore. Jude took a liking to tell me how ridiculous I was acting. Truthfully, I think she liked that too much because it was the one thing that we could always agree.”

“Why did you wait so long then?”

Cardan laughed. “I may have agreed with Jude that I was being ridiculous, but it did little to quell the fear that you would not want me.”

“Well, whatever she said to convince you to act, I am grateful. Even if it did send me running.” You pressed a soft kiss to his lips. Cardan smiled. “In some ways, I think we both needed it. Who knows how long we may have skirted around our feelings still.”

He combed your fingers through your hair and pulled you in for a searing kiss. He loved this. He loved being your husband. Cardan no longer had to pace the floors of the palace, wondering if he could confess to you his feelings. He no longer had to dream of what it would feel for you to be in his arms, for it was now his reality. And as you moaned against his mouth, Cardan decided he would commit every moment of his long life to bringing you as much pleasure as you have already brought him. It was his duty as your husband after all. 

“Let us retire,” he said, parting from you long enough for a breath.

“It is our wedding celebration. People will talk if we leave too soon,” you said, but your voice was filled with enough lust that he knew you didn’t truly mean a single word. 

“Let them talk, and let Jude run them through with her sword for disrespecting their Queen and King.”

You smiled up at him, and Cardan stole another kiss. “Whisk me away, my love.”

The entire walk up to your shared chambers, Cardan’s tail swished behind him in excitement.

Sex and nakedness are not regarded the same in Faerie as it is in the human lands. Yet, watching as Cardan undressed before you had you positively giddy. It had you even forgetting that you were supposed to undress, too, until your husband was reaching around you, skillfully undoing the laces of your dress with his nimble fingers. 

“You are beautiful,” you whisper, running your hand down his chest to his stomach. “The most beautiful person I have ever seen.”

Cardan grinned. “And to think you tried to deprive yourself of such beauty,” he teased. He kissed your brow, dragged his lips down to your ear. His breath was warm as he whispered, “I should be quite upset, you know, that you tried to deprive me of your beauty.”

Wordlessly, you sank down to your knees. The wood was cool against your skin. A nice contrast to how warm your arousal was making you. Cardan watched you, his mouth falling open to release a shuddering breath as you took his cock in your hands. “Shall I repent, my husband?”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. Any sign of his teasing had disappeared the moment you touched him. You wondered if he had always been so affected by you. You wondered how blind you must have been to miss it for all these years. “You may do to me as you please,” he breathed out.

Your tongue darted out, wetting your lips, before you took him into your mouth. As you looked up at your husband through your lashes, Cardan looked as though he might just fall apart under your touch. Pride settled in your veins. Neither you nor Cardan were strangers to pleasures of the flesh, but you were certain that no one could make him feel as you were now. You released him with a pop! and began to kiss down his length.

Cardan’s fingers found purchase in your hair. His grip tightened as you ran your tongue up the underside of his cock, taking time to flick over a rather prominent vein. But before you could take him fully in your mouth again, Cardan was pulling you away, gently nudging you back to your feet. 

“Was that not to your liking, husband?” you asked, though you already knew the answer. 

“I will not allow you to steal all the fun, wife,” he said. Cardan gathered you in his arms, carrying you the short distance to the bed and laid you down. He settled between your legs, which he had hiked over his shoulders. You reached down, brushing stray curls from his eyes. “It is my wedding night, too, after all.”

“Ah, yes, but what is that the humans say? Happy wife, happy life?”

Jude had been quite happy to share that one little line with you. Having grown up in Faerie, there was little she remembered from her time in the human lands. But she remembered that, and she shared it with you so that you could add it to your arsenal of things to make Cardan putty in your hands. 

“Oh, I fully intend to make you happy,” Cardan declared before diving in. 

Cardan ate your cunt as if he were a starved man. His tongue lapped at you, collecting your arousal as if it were the sweet nectar of an everapple. Just as he had you, your hand found its own wound through his silky curls. But where he had pulled you away, you drew him in closer. You could feel his smirk when he took your sensitive bud between his lips. 

You breathed out his name, chanted it as if it were the most precious oath. Recited it as though it were your vows to him. A cord deep in your stomach began to tighten, tauter and tauter until it finally snapped. Your chants became a scream.

Your husband emerged from your trembling thighs with a triumphant smile. He crawled up your body until he was draped over you like a blanket. Safe and secure within his arms. Cardan’s forehead rest against yours. His breath tickled your face, but you found delight in the sensation. His every breath was yours, and so yours were his. 

“I feel as though I am in debt to you,” you teased. “How can you let me finish, but not allow me the same pleasure?”

Cardan smiled. His tail dipped between your bodies, wrapped itself around your leg. “Your debt shall be paid soon enough,” he swore. 

You barely processed Cardan pressing his cock into you until the gasp escaped your lips. It had been a long while since you laid with anyone. You had forgotten how delicious that stretch felt. Acting of their own accord, your legs locked around his hips, keeping his thrusts shallow as he began to move. You pulled Cardan in for another kiss and did not let him pull away. 

His moans melted into your own. “I love you,” he chanted. His fingers intertwined with your own. “I adore you. I am yours to command.”

“Mm, don’t stop,” you said. And as though he were yours to command, he did as told, his thrusts beginning to grow sloppy. “I love you.”

Cardan gasped, and you felt him finish. He continued to thrust into you, one hand leaving yours to press against the still sensitive bud. He rolled it between his fingers, urging that taught cord to snap again. As though you were his to command, it did, and the tidal wave of ecstasy washed over your once more. 

“I love you!” you shouted, because nothing better encapsulated this feeling than those three simple words. 

Your husband came to rest against your chest, his ear pressed against the spot above your heart. He nipped at the skin of your breast until you scratched your nails against his scalp. His tail had unwound itself from your thigh, taking to swish softly in the air above you.

“I am glad I came home to you,” you said. “I am glad you did not let me stay away.”

Cardan lifted his head, a sleepy smile tugged at his lips. “I would run after you every day if it meant I got to have you in my arms for even a moment.”

“I shall never run again,” you swore.

“But then whom shall I chase through the palace?”

“I may run then,” you conceded. 

Content, Cardan rested against your chest once more. His breaths soon turned shallow, and a quiet snore echoed through the room. You followed soon after, because there was nothing in this life you would do without your husband at your side. 

Ordinarily, you hated when Azriel would leave for long missions. Azriel loved that about you. For so many years, he longed for someone to love him in spite of himself. Throughout his life, he had so many heinous things. He always worried that his hands were stained too red for anyone to ever want to hold. But you, the only daughter of Autumn, looked him right in the eye and proudly declared that he was your mate. You looked at the darkest parts of him and found love for him anyways. And when your family, when Beron, tried to keep you from him, you ran straight into his arms anyways. You were willing to throw away everything you knew for him. Azriel would always be grateful for that. But, now, you almost seemed to want him to leave. 

You had been acting strange a few days before he left. For as long as Azriel knew you, you were fiercely independent. It was something that was appreciated because it meant you could take care of yourself when he was gone for days, weeks, even months at a time to carry out Rhysand’s will. Now, though…You would disappear for long stretches of time, give vague answers when Azriel would ask how you were doing. He supposed, as spymaster, he could figure it out for himself, or at least send some shadows to follow you, but he wanted you to tell him yourself. He needed to hear from you that everything was okay. 

That is, until he told you he was going to be away for a month on a mission. Typically when he would be gone for so long, you would hold him close and rant about how you were going to give Rhys a piece of your mind for taking your mate away. And he would kiss you and cherish the few hours he had left with you before he would have to leave. This time, you only pouted and gave him a kiss goodnight before retiring to bed. 

It was damn near impossible for him to focus on the mission after that. Had Azriel done something wrong? Had you finally reached the depths of Azriel’s darkness and decided you hated what you saw? 

He planned on talking to you as soon as he returned. He would not let you get away with vague answers. He wouldn’t rest until he got the truth about your new behavior. He had to know. 

He almost wished he hadn’t. 

When Azriel winnowed into his shared home with you, the scent of other males filled his nose. If it had been Cassian or Rhys, he would have paid it no mind. But he didn’t recognize these scents. Who had you invited into his home? 

A worse thought crept into his mind—had this been why you were so eager for him to leave? 

You grinned as a shadow alerted you to Azriel’s return home. It had been so hard to keep away from your mate, but you knew that if you allowed yourself near him, you would have spoiled the surprise. And, oh, how you wanted to surprise him. 

It wasn’t easy to keep things from the spymaster. Between his shadows and his observational skills, he had near perfect accuracy when it came to figuring out your surprises. And yet, he didn’t make any guesses or reveal that he knew what your secret plan was this entire time. It almost had you confessing. But then Azriel told you he was being sent away for a month on a mission, and you knew you could hold out until the end. 

You couldn’t keep the secret totally to yourself, of course. You told Rhys and Feyre, who helped you find a reputable group of workers to build the addition onto your home. And you told Nesta and Cassian, who caught you leaving the store with a bundle of bags. Mor guessed on her own. Amren was the one who figured it out before even you knew. Everyone agreed to keep the secret amongst themselves, on the condition that you invite them over for dinner after you finally reveal your secret to your mate. 

And the day had finally come! The workers had just finished the addition a few days before, their timing nearly perfect. 

When you felt the shadows creep up your ankles, wrapping themselves around you, you knew Azriel was home. You jumped up from your seat on the couch and ran to greet him where he stood in the dining room. 

A wide smile stretched across your face as you said, “Welcome home!”

But when you threw your arms around his neck, he didn’t move. You took a step back, watching as he glanced around your home, his nose wrinkling.

“Did the mission go alright?” you tried. 

Still, Azriel didn’t say anything. Worry began to settle in the pit of your stomach. It must have been truly awful for him to be so quiet now. While Azriel usually kept some of the more gory details to himself, he did like to talk to you about his missions. He said it helped him process the things he did. Did you need to go give Rhys a piece of your mind? 

“Az, is everything okay?”

Finally, his eyes snapped to yours. “I don’t know,” he said, his head tilting, looking at you almost like how a predator looks at its prey. “Would you be okay if you found out your mate was unfaithful?”

Your heart dropped. How could he think that? “What?”

Azriel rolled his eyes and gestured widely to the room. “You think I can’t smell the other males who have been here? Do you think I’m stupid?”

Oh. Oh no. You had glamoured your own scent, so that you might keep this all a surprise. But you didn’t think to glamour the scent of the workers. “You don’t understand—”

“I understand perfectly well that I have a whore of a mate,” he hissed. 

You reached for him. How could this go so wrong? Why wasn’t he listening to you? “Azriel, please—”

He pushed you away so hard you stumbled, your back hitting the kitchen table. His eyes flashed—with what, you weren’t sure. Certainly not regret, though. “Stay the fuck away from me.”

“Just listen to me, please—”

“I don’t want to listen to any of the lies you spew,” he snapped. He turned to leave. “When I come back, I expect you to be gone.”

“Azriel!”

But before you could say anymore, he was already gone.

It took everything in you to not sink to your knees and cry. Why would Azriel so easily believe you would be unfaithful to him? Why wouldn’t he let you explain? Did he truly think so little of you? You wiped your face with the back of your hand, surprised by how many tears had already fallen. 

How could Azriel look at the face of his crying mate and not even attempt to hear you out? 

You took a shuddering breath, glancing down at the one shadow that remained with you. Bile rose up in your throat. He wouldn’t listen to you, but he would leave a shadow? To what, make sure you actually left? 

Fine.

Fine, you’ll leave, if that’s what he wishes. You didn’t want to stay a minute longer with a male who thinks so lowly of his mate.  

Azriel stayed gone for a week. He retreated to Rhysand’s cabin, knowing that you wouldn’t—you couldn’t—follow him there. Unlike your brothers, you were unable to winnow. Try as you might, the skill never came for you. It had once pained him, knowing how you had to flee the Autumn Court on foot so that you could be with him. Now, though, Azriel was grateful to be able to put distance between you and him. 

The only contact Azriel had that entire week was to send a letter to Rhys, providing the details of the mission and stating that he would be away for a while. Rhys only responded to tell him to enjoy his time away. Azriel wished he could. But there was nothing enjoyable about learning of a mate’s infidelity. 

Finally, though, the limited food supply at the cabin ran low enough to justify Azriel returning to his family. He went to the River House, hoping to talk to Rhys about what had transpired. What he hadn’t expected was to be greeted with celebration. 

“Congratulations!” Feyre said when she saw him, pulling Azriel into a one-armed hug as she held Nyx on her hip.

Rhys’s lips pulled into a smirk as he approached him. “Where is that mate of yours? I believe she promised us a dinner.” 

Azriel’s heart clenched at the mention of you. As angry as he was to learn you had been unfaithful, it had broke his heart to know that he couldn't be with you again. He would never be able to trust you again. Azriel already spent his days torturing the scum of Prythian. He didn’t need to have a scourge of a mate, too. “Dinner’s cancelled for the foreseeable future,” Azriel said. 

Rhys waved him off. “Understandable. If she’s anything like Feyre was, she must constantly be sick. Whenever she’s ready, though, we would love to have dinner with her.”

Why was Rhysand so focused on dinner? A bitter part of him wondered if his brother was one of the people you took to bed. Would you do that to him, to Feyre? 

Feyre looked Azriel up and down, sensing that there was something more than what Azriel was letting on. “Have you seen her since you’ve come back?”

“I have,” Azriel said, his tone clipped. 

“And were you…excited?” she asked. 

He rolled his eyes. “Why would I be excited to learn my mate is a—” He glanced at Nyx. Though barely a year old, he probably was cognizant enough to babble swear words spoken in front of him. “—that my mate was unfaithful?”

“What are you talking about?” Rhys asked, his brows knit together. 

“I came home to a house reeking of other males. She didn’t even try to hide—”

Feyre gasped, her hand flying up to cover her mouth. Finally. Someone understood. “You didn’t—“

Rhysand’s eyes flashed. “Azriel, don’t tell me you excused her of cheating.”

“Why shouldn’t I confront her for what she did? For who she brought into our home?”

“Azriel, that female loves you. She risked her life to come to Velaris. Do you really think that she would throw that all away?” Rhys snarled. “Tell me she’s still at the house.”

“When I left a week ago, I told her to be gone. I imagine she isn’t there anymore.” Azriel frowned. “And I know, it doesn’t seem like something she would do, but the males’ scents were everywhere—”

Azriel’s head snapped to the side. He raised his hand to his face, touching his stinging skin. He looked at Feyre, his eyes widening. Did she really just hit him? Now? “You idiot!” she snapped. “Your home smelled like other males because she hired workers to build an addition while you were gone.”

“What?” Why would you do that? You had always loved the small cottage. You had once told him that the only reason you might ever choose to leave would be to grow your family. 

“She was having a nursery built,” Rhys snapped. 

Oh. 

Oh. 

It was days before you reached Autumn’s borders, and days still before you came into contact with other fae. The female fae, who found you collapsed on her family’s farm, took pity on you. Ordinarily, you would have shuddered at the mere idea of being pitied by anyone. But you were so exhausted. You weren’t sure if you could make it any further on your own. So when she ordered her husband to winnow you to the Forest House, you leaned against him and let him take you away. At the Forest House, you were passed to the arms of a sentry to one of Eris’s guards until your brother was carrying you into your old room, yelling for a healer. 

Save for trips to the bathroom and when your mother dragged you out to family dinners, you scarcely left your bed. The healer would check on you daily to ensure that you were still healthy enough to carry your child and that the child was still doing well—that the stress wasn’t killing it. You were sure the stress was killing you. Aside from her, though, you didn’t speak to anyone. You couldn’t find the energy, not even when Eris was sitting on the edge of the bed, trying to make sense of what happened. 

“Did something happen with Azriel?” he asked, reaching out to pet your hair. It had been something he often did when you were younger whenever you were upset. 

You squeezed your eyes shut and rolled over, turning your back to Eris. It was the first time anyone had said his name. Whenever the healer would come, she would make remarks about “the father”. But she never said his name. As for your mother and brothers, they mostly kept to themselves. Whether it was to give you time to heal or out of fear of you breaking down, you weren’t sure. 

“Did he hurt you?” Eris asked.

“Not like Father did,” you whispered. It hurt to speak. Your vocal cords strained. You swallowed, trying to alleviate the pain. It didn’t help.

 His hand paused at your answer. When he spoke again, his voice was tight, like it pained him to think your mate could hurt you. “What did the bastard do?” 

Part of you wanted to say nothing. Reliving that pain was too much, and you doubted it would be good for the baby. But now that you had spoken, you doubted that Eris would let you continue your vow of silence. “He accused me of infidelity.”

You glanced over your shoulder, watching as Eris’s eyes turned to slits. You rolled back over and reached for his hand. It was warm, like his fire was just below the surface. “And you let him live after such an accusation?”

“He wouldn’t listen. Was so sure of it that it didn’t matter what I said.” Your eyes welled up with tears. Though you were no stranger to crying in front of your brother, you prayed you wouldn’t do it now. It felt too pathetic—crying over a male. “I had an addition built to the cottage. He smelt the workers’ scents and thought the worst.” 

Eris opened his mouth. You braced yourself for the fire that was about to spew from his mouth. A knock on the door, however, stopped him in his tracks. Both of you looked over as your mother stepped into the room, a piece of paper pinched between her fingers. Eris rose to his feet, then closed the distance between them. “What is it?”

“It’s a letter from the Night Court. The High Lord is inquiring about her whereabouts.”

You glanced down at the shadow, still twisted around your wrist. Huh. Maybe Azriel didn’t leave the shadow behind to monitor you. Otherwise, there would be no need to look for you. The shadow could easily slither back to its master, whisper that you were hiding in the Forest House. A smile tugged at your lips. Even if this killed you, it did bring you some modicum of joy to know the shadows were turning their back on Azriel. 

Your mother and Eris looked to you for any sign of how to respond. Letting out a breath, you pushed yourself up and swung your legs over the edge of the bed. You tightened the robe around your waist as you strode over to them. “Tell them that I am safe,” you said, “and that any further correspondence is unnecessary and unwanted.”

Then, you walked past them to your wardrobe, plucked a dress and retreated to the bathroom. You were done wallowing in self-pity. If your mate didn’t want you anymore, that was fine. You could learn to live with this. But you won’t allow yourself to become a husk. Not when you had a babe you would need to care for. 

As you shut the door, you heard Eris say, “Tell the High Lord that if the shadowsinger dares to sniff around our borders, I will have his wings mounted to my wall.”

You couldn’t find it in yourself to care. 

PART TWO