*I've been planning this for awhile. Especially since I got comments on my Tamlin/Feyre OS. That was written after reading book 1 and before finding out that Tamlin is an asshole. Hopefully this will make up for it*
Feyre reaches to tap Rhysand's shoulder as he observes her painting on the cabin walls. Before she can react, her hand is captured and she is pinned to the wall. "Mine," Rhysand growls, eyes flashing black with desire.
Need fills Feyre, and she swallows thickly. Her mouth captures Rhysand's feverishly. "Need-your-skin against me," she voices between sloppy kisses, her voice rough.
Rhysand half smiles ferally. "Do you now?"
Feyre bares her teeth at her mate. "Yes." Her hands slide underneath the slippery smooth fabric of Rhysand's shirt. Feyre slides the shirt off him smoothly, exposing midnight black wings to the cold air. Rhysand shivers with the sensation as Feyre's fingers deftly trace the curve of one wing.
"Pretty sure now counts as 'later'," Feyre informs him, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
Rhysand struggles to keep his eyes opened, breathing becoming erratic. He regains control just enough to tug at the hem of Feyre's shirt. Feyre meets his eyes. "What do you want, love?" she ask him teasingly.
"Off. Now," Rhysand says, more of a plea than a command.
Feyre looks like she's considering it for a second, and Rhysand takes the opportunity to dip his head in the curl of her neck and bite her. A startled moan falls from Feyre's lips. Her hands dig into Rhysand's back, pressing him to her.
"What do you want, love?" Rhysand repeats darkly, his mouth hovering just above the soft skin.
"You," Feyre answers huskily. "Please."
Rhysand smirks and places a trail of bites up Feyre's jaw, and then drops back down to her neck, sucking at the imprint of his teeth. Feyre tilts her head to give him better access, tangling her fingers in his hair.
Rhysand unties the belt of the dress, letting it pool on the floor. His eyes run across Feyre. "So beautiful," he whispers in her ear, kissing her gently.
Feyre half smiles and moves her hands back down to her mate's wings, slowly stroking up and down. Rhysand's heart rate jumps and he arches into Feyre unintentionally. Feyre looks smug.
"How sensitive exactly are these?" she asks Rhysand, kneeling.
Rhysand's answer is delayed by only a few seconds. "I think you've figured that one out."
"Hm." Feyre licks across one wing, the smooth membrane reacting to her warmth.
Rhysand groans. "As much as I love this teasing, darling..."
"My poor mate." Feyre looks just slightly sympathetic. Her teeth graze several bones near the bottom of the wing.
Rhysand's eyes close. "Feyre darling, please," he says, voice husky.
"Please what?" Feyre looks up from her work for a second.
"Stop teasing and let me fuck you."
"I'm having too much fun now." Feyre grins wickedly. She moves her mouth over, nibbling lightly along another bone.
Rhysand clenches his hands, trying to keep himself from taking control.
Feyre rubs her thumb over one wing, gentle but firm, and Rhysand has trouble forming coherent thought. "Shit," Rhysand barks, head hitting the wall again. "Feyre," he breathes, his voice both hungry and needy.
Feyre stands up unsteadily, eyes hooded with lust, and Rhysand pulls her close. Feyre rolls her hips into him.
"Counts as teasing," Rhysand says, latching his teeth to his mate's neck again and sucking.
"Does it?" Feyre slips her fingers into Rhysand's waistband and drags her nails along the sensitive skin on his hip.
Rhysand growls, tugging off the remainder of his clothing and pushes Feyre up against the wall, pulling her legs over his hips. Feyre doesn't look remotely surprised, and stifles a moan as he thrusts into mating bond ignites and Feyre leans her head against the wall. Rhysand buries his head on her neck, her fingers gripping him closer.
He starts slowly, until the growing heat is too much to bear, the two of them are going faster and faster until "Rhysand," falls from Feyre's lips as a heated groan and she falls. Her expression sends Rhysand over the edge as she shakes around him.
"Damn, that feels good," Feyre mumbles as they separate, still entwined in each other's arms. "Never going to grow tired of that or you."
"I love you," Rhysand whispers, a satisfied smile accompanying his words.
"And I love you," Feyre returns, kissing him slowly.