The day had only just begun, and he was already bathing in delicious torment. Feyre was wrecking him. She not only teased him using his own body, but also flaunting herself at him. She bought a pair of red panties and a bralette and quietly asked him what he thought. She sent him images from the shop's dressing room, of her wearing them. Of her wearing them with him. Throughout the day, she touched him and made him touch himself. At lunch, she made an excuse at the table, and they both left to go to the bathroom. Cassian looked at him oddly when they did, but made no comment. As soon as the door to the stall was shut and locked, she had his pants around his ankles and was sucking on him and rubbing him. She was not gentle, and she was not quick. She didn't let him finish, just had him pull his pants on and go back to lunch. Upon their return, Cassian looked at his crotch in confusion, then understanding. Under the table, her hands slid up his leg, fingers tracing teasingly around where he wanted them most. She used her other hand, too, to unbutton his pants and stand him up. She slid the sheath of skin off of him and reveal the tender, sensitive tip of him. Her other hand joined the first, stroking, and went down to cup his balls. She moved, stroking with feather-lightness up and down him. She slid something hard and cold around his member, something that squeezed him in all the right places. He scrabbled at the walls she'd built around him. He wanted to take control of this, of himself, but Feyre nudged his mind with her own, reminding him he'd done this to her first. He didn't like it, but he let her take the wheel, let himself bask in the sensation pouring over him, in what she was doing to him.

Then, suddenly, he was back in his own skin. His hands were his own, his limbs obeyed him again.

But when he tried to reach down and stop Feyre, to pull off the toy she'd put on him, he couldn't. It was as if his hand hit a brick wall, unable to continue. She was still keeping a loose hold on him, loose enough that he could control himself for the most part. Except when he tried to do something she didn't want. Then he was helpless.

His gaze went to her. She held it, eyes innocent. His, however, were smoldering, full of lust and intent and wickedness. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the edge of the table, pretending to listen intently to what Mor was saying. Feyre's hands were dancing over him, tracing up his inner thighs, rubbing the sensitive patch of skin right behind his balls. She spread his legs apart with her mind, and though he fought against it, she was in control. He stayed like that for the rest of the meal, until at last, she began taking the toy off. She pulled it up part way, then slid it back on to the base of his member, letting it bounce up and down. His eyes snapped to her, Adam's apple bobbing. Slowly, she buttoned up his pants, then gave his bulge a little pat. The toy made his tent a little bigger than normal, and as they got up and went to the front to pay the bill, Mor kept glancing down and snickering.

They walked throughout Velaris for the rest of the afternoon, and he actually started enjoying himself a little. Feyre didn't tease him at all, and he was sure that the worst was over.

Until she pulled him into a glassblowing shop, where a class was just starting. "Mind if we join?" she asked the shopkeeper, whose eyes widened.

"O-Of course," he stammered. They sat down, and the shopkeeper began explaining the safety measures, and how to use the tools. Feyre snapped her fingers under the table, and the toy disappeared. Rhys sagged back in his chair, tension leaving his body. He leaned forward and started paying attention to the class. The glassblower was demonstrating by making a piece of his own. Rhys began paying attention, watching the way the glassblower's hands moved, how he shaped the glass.

That was why he was so surprised when he felt something rubbing him, stroking up and down his member.

His chair scooted back a few inches, and his hands dropped to his lap, scrabbling for whatever was touching him, but there was nothing there but thin air. He felt himself being touched, felt his pants unbutton. His eyes went straight to Feyre, who gave him a predator's smile. Her hand moved in the air, mimicking the motions Rhys felt. Her grip tightened, and he had to grit his teeth to keep from making a noise. This, he decided, was worse than when she had complete control of him. Then, he had no other options. Now, it was as if he was standing in a rushing river of arousal, unable to move to the left or right, about to be swept away. Her hands moved up him, stroking his chest, then rubbing his nipples. She gave the left one a small pinch, and he went stiff. She kept this up until it was time to glassblow for themselves. She held his gaze, giving him one last squeeze, and then her invisible hands vanished. Rhys blew out a breath, knowing this wasn't over.

He was trying to make a Christmas tree ornament, rolling the glass on a stone board to get the shape he wanted. Feyre was sending a wave of heat, then cold, then heat, like an arrow straight at his member. It was swollen with heat and then shrank with cold. He bit back a groan.

Then she winnowed the toy back onto him, which squeezed and molded him so much he could hardly think straight.

He finished his ornament in record time, handing it, and the metal rod it was on, to the manager. He retreated into the lobby, where he grabbed a magazine and covered his lap. Feyre walked out a second later and sat next to him. She picked up the magazine on his lap, stilling his hand when he tried to grab another one.

They paid for the class and left. As soon as they were out of the shop, he grabbed her arm and winnowed them back to the house. He knew she saw his plan, plain as day, in his mind. He spread it out for her. What he was going to do to her, and how. He sent both of their clothes down to the laundry and pinned Feyre to the bed. "I have a problem," He purred. She whispered, "Do tell," in his ear. He shivered and leaned over her. "You see, my mate has been teasing me all day. I find myself in a difficult position. She's got me on lockdown."

"And?"

"And, I believe it's time to end this." He showed her exactly what he was going to do to her, and how. He reached down and she let him pull off the toy. It slid down him, and he groaned at the friction.

And then he was floating down the bridge between their souls, passing Feyre. He slid into her head, and she slid into his. He blinked and gazed around in this new body. He was Feyre, and she was him. His own body was standing over him, completely naked. He admired himself. 'Does your love for yourself know no bounds? Feyre whispered to him. Absolutely none, He whispered back. She took his dick in her hand and leaned down. Let's see how long you last, she purred. He grinned wickedly up at her.

His smile vanished when she pushed into him. She was so hard and long inside him, he groaned. Feyre leaned down and took a nipple in her mouth, then reached for where they were joined and pinched and rubbed at the small bump at the apex of his thighs. He writhed, unused to all of the sensation rolling over him. Feyre began to move, thrusting in, then pulling back out. He let his head fall back and moaned. The feelings from so many sensitive areas being stimulated at once was building, and he knew his release was near. Feyre gave one last thrust and collapsed on top of him. He buried his face in Feyre's arm to stifle his shout as release barreled down his spine. Feyre whispered in his ear, "I do believe I won."

Feyre POV

The inner court was at Rita's for dinner. Cassian kept glancing between her and Rhys with an odd expression on his face. Finally, he tapped his glass for attention. The table went quiet.

"Would you two like to explain what's been going on all day? You've been acting really weird, and then you both just disappeared."

Feyre glanced over at Rhys. "Would you like to explain?" She purred. He grimaced.

"Feyre kidnapped me last week, then gave me a challenge." He purposefully left out some of the details of that kidnapping, like how she'd tied him to a table and made him beg for release. She smirked.

"That challenge was for me to try to kidnap her back, or at least do something similar. Last night, while we were, ah," he coughed, "copulating, I snuck into her mind and paralyzed her. This morning she did the same, except it was like I was a puppet. All day, I've actually been her. At least until lunch, that is. She pointed out to me that she won the bet, which means I must do one of the most embarrassing things in my life." He stood up and called, "Attention, please!" Everyone in the restaurant got quiet. Rhys sighed. "I have an announcement. I lost a bet to my wonderful mate, so blame her." he grimaced, then yelled, "Cassian has bigger wings!"

His table cracked up, and whispers and chuckles, then full-blown cackles spread through the restaurant. He grinned and sat down. Cassian was howling in his seat, clutching his stomach for air. Amren shook her head, chuckling. Mor slapped him on the back. "Feyre nailed your balls to the wall, didn't she?" He smiled at her. "She sure did something to my balls." Even Azriel cracked a grin.

They stayed late into the night, talking and eating and laughing.