Okay absolutely NSFW chapter! I'm really nervous about this one because it's my first attempt at writing anything "sexy" haha but I hope it's not too bad!

It'll be NSFW until the three *** and then there's a bit of plot development, so you can avoid the first part if you want to!

As always, thanks for reading and sharing your thoughts with me, I love every single one of your comments!

After they finished breakfast, they started on the dishes. It began quiet, Rhys washing the plates and pans and Feyre drying them to put them away. But when there was only a plate left to wash, Feyre saw a smirk form on Rhysand's face, and he splashed water on her.

"Hey! What the hell?!"

He barked out a laugh and answered:

"Sorry, it was way too tempting!"

She shoved him, only making him laugh harder. If she was being honest, she could hardly contain her own laugh at the sight of his joyful face.

"You're adorable, Darling!"

"Shut up," she said, shoving him again, but with more of a challenge this time, like she was saying: will you catch me?

He grabbed her hands softly before she could get away and kept them on his chest. He was watching her with an intensity that made her core tighten, and then his lips were on hers. She answered his kiss immediately, with all the desire that had built up in her during the night. His hands left hers to plunge into her hair, as her own started to move lower, to the limits of his sweater, before sliding under it and roaming across his abdomen. He left her lips and she was left panting as his mouth went to explore the line of her jaw, her ear, her neck. A soft moan escaped her when he nipped at the spot between her neck and her shoulder, and she slipped her hands up his back to get him to understand what she wanted: take off your sweater.

And maybe she'd said it out loud, because he laughed in her neck and answered:

"Only if you take off yours…"

His low, sultry voice was all it took for her to stop her exploring, and slowly, very slowly, get her hands away from him to grip the sides of her sweater and pull up until it was over her head and discarded on the floor, along with her t-shirt. All the while, her eyes didn't live his, and only when she was standing in front of him, naked from the waist up, did she step closer to him again, tugging on his clothes. His sweater was quick to join hers on the floor and then his hands were stroking her bare back, and his lips were once again teasing her neck. Feyre grew closer to him, pushing him until he had to sit on the bed, and she straddled him, finding his lips again. He laughed when she started playing with the waistband of his pants, and his mouth started to trace a path straight from her lips to her neck and the middle of her chest. His hands, that had been busy steadying her hips when she'd sat down on him, found their way up and finally, finally, grazed against her breasts, upper, his thumbs tracing circles around her nipples. She arched her back at the touch and laid a hand on his heart to push him down on the bed. He lay down immediately, taking her along with him, and she felt his tongue dart out of his mouth to explore her breasts in time with his hands. She instinctively ground against him at the first stroke of tongue against her, and found him as hard as granite under her. The sound that came out of his mouth sent shivers down her spine as she hooked her fingers through his waistband. He abandoned her chest for a second, his hands gently tightening around her back to turn her around and lay her flat on her back. And then he was once again on her, drifting on her neck, her chest, her belly. Feyre was left with enjoying the sensations of his mouth and hands. Not that she minded, she thought as she arched her back again and ruffled his hair, biting her lip to keep herself from moaning as he licked his way closer to where she wanted him. As if he was aware of the urgency that had taken over her, aware and willing to torture her, he slowly gripped the sides of her leggings and slid it down her legs, his mouth leaving a trail of kisses along her left leg as he went down. Once her leggings were off, he started moving up again, this time kissing her right leg in his path, but always slowly, teasingly, his hands staying chaste on her hips. She looked down and found his eyes watching her, full of lust and joy as he started to kiss his way towards the inside of her thigh. He was still holding her gaze when his fingers gingerly scraped against her core through her underwear, and this time she let a moan escape her as she gripped his hair to have something, anything, to keep her grounded to the world. He chuckled against her hips and she felt his finger gently grab her panties and slide them down, before going up again and finding their way directly to the apex of her thighs. He rolled a thumb against it, as one finger slid slowly into her, stroking her a few times before a second finger joined it. Feyre was going to combust under his touch, and as if he knew it, his thumb stopped playing against her. She was going to protest when his thumb was replaced by his mouth, and she let out a cry of pleasure at the sensation of his tongue on her, licking and sucking in rhythm with his fingers inside her. She stopped caring about being silent, she stopped roaming her hands through his hair, she just lay back under his touch and let him work her up until at last she was on the verge of collapsing. He seemed to sense it and increased his pace until she tightened around his fingers, a powerful orgasm barreling through her body. He slid his fingers out of her but kept on licking and kissing her softly through the last waves of pleasure, and a little more after that. She relished on the sensations for a moment, but as she looked down at him and saw only the top of his head between her legs, one of his broad hands flat on her belly, the other holding her thigh, she wanted more. She wanted him, the hardness of him, inside of her. She gingerly reached for his shoulders and pulled on them. He climbed back up her body, laying a kiss here and there on her burning skin, and rested beside her. He seemed content to just lie beside her, but she was having none of it. She could feel how hard he was against her, and the feeling immediately got her ready again. Feyre's hands traced a path from his thundering heart down his muscled abdomen, and was gripping his tracksuit to take it off him when he stopped her and said:

"We don't have to."

And he was serious, she could see it in his eyes. He would be content with just having pleasured her if she was to tell him that she didn't want more, that she was tired and fulfilled. She smiled at him and answered, her voice hoarse:

"I know. But I want to."

His answering smile was enough to make her understand he was certainly okay with that. She resumed her taking off his pants, getting rid of his underpants in the process, and keeping her eyes on his, she kissed his jaw, his tattooed chest, his belly, all the way down his body until she took the tip of his length into her mouth. He laid back his head onto the pillows with a groan, and as she licked her way down him, she saw his hand fist the sheets besides her face. Smiling, she reached out to guide his hand to her hair, hoping that would be indication enough of what she wanted. He understood and fisted her hair softly but firmly as she continued to stroke him.

From the noises that were getting out of his mouth, and the way his hand on her hair was tightening its grip, she was honestly surprised he let her go on for nearly a minute before guiding her away from him and back up, to lay on top of him. When her core grazed against his, Feyre thought she might let him slide into her right then and there, but of course there were important matters at hand before she let herself do that. His eyes were blurry and his lips were trembling as he managed to say:

"Do you have a condom?"

His voice sounded so much like a plea, like he might burst into flame if she told him she didn't. She smiled and nodded, reaching for the drawer in her nightstand and taking one out. They laughed a bit when she didn't manage to open the package and he had to take over, but once he was ready, they stopped laughing, the unrelenting desire taking over again. Rhys' hands cupped her face to kiss her deeply, and she reached down, slowly taking him inside her body. They stopped shifting when he was entirely in her, and the look they shared was nearly enough to send Feyre over the edge again. They started to move again together, and he moaned under her, his hands roaming every inch of her body they could reach, her face, her breasts, her thighs, her back, as if he could not explore enough of her. Or maybe it was her, unable to stop herself from caressing his chest and arms and beautiful face. As she rode him, Feyre felt her release build up again, fast. Rhys was jerking his hips up from under her, but she stopped him with a frantic whisper in his ear "wait… just... don't move." She felt him go still under her, only his fingers caressing her thighs as she moved her hips just right and shattered atop him. When she opened her eyes, still going through the waves of pleasure, she found him looking at her, a faint smile on his lips and his eyes filled with awe and desire. She rolled her hips and gave him a sweet and suggestive smile, as if to say you can go on now. He understood immediately and pounded into her, sliding his hands on her back to hold her against his chest. He came moments later with her name on his lips, and they were left panting, their bodies covered in sweat. Feyre could feel his hectic heart against her, and she traced her fingers on it softly. They stayed that way for what seemed like forever, but was probably only a minute, before he murmured in her ear:

"As little as I want to move, maybe we should… the condom..."

"Oh you're right!" She blurted, slowly letting go of him to lie down beside him. He took off the condom and rose enough to throw it in the bin, before coming back to her and interlacing his fingers with hers. Feyre looked into his eyes and she felt heat creep up her cheeks what she found in them. She was blushing, and she wanted to slap herself at the thought. They had just slept together, he had seen and touched every inch of her, and a look at his eyes was what made her blush? But a similar shade of color appeared in his cheeks, and he smiled and said:

"Well that… escalated quickly."

She let out a laugh and moved closer to him to enjoy the warmth of his body against the cold of the morning. Rhys wrapped her in his arm and rested his chin on the top of her head. She let her heart calm down completely before saying:

"Maybe we could move under the covers? I'm a bit cold."

They resumed their idle touches on each other once they were in bed, not talking, but not feeling uncomfortable. Silence had never been uneasy between them, and it wasn't uneasy now either. They spent a large portion of the morning lying in bed, talking and touching and sometimes drifting off to sleep again. After their talk the previous evening, after sleeping in his embrace all night, and now after their early-morning tumble in the sheets, Feyre felt good and peaceful, and she didn't want to get up and let real life take over.

Rhysand watched her sleep in his arm for a moment before he too closed his eyes again. She was… he didn't want to think about the word "perfect," it was probably too strong a word to describe someone, but she was certainly near perfect, her beautiful body at ease against him. He watched her chest go up and down as she breathed and resisted the urge to caress her body again, afraid it would wake her up. He would stay in bed all day if she wanted him to, he didn't mind spending his Sunday talking to her, and looking at her, and touching her.

She stirred against him and opened her eyes to look at him, a lazy smile on her lips.

"Hey you,"she said in a low, sleepy voice as she cupped his face to kiss him. He answered her kiss and placed a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Hey Darling. Did you sleep okay?"

"Yeah. I wish we could stay like that all day."

"We don't have to get up, you know."

"I do. I have a meeting at noon."

"At noon? Feyre, it's almost 11:30."

"What?! Oh shit!"

She jerked upright and got out of bed, lounging for her closet to get clothes. Rhys watched her slip on black undies and an assorted bra, and drank in the sight of her body, beautiful in only her underwear, before getting out of bed himself. She was completely dressed and brushing her teeth in less time than he took to put on his own clothes. He found his shoes and grabbed his gym bag, ready to leave when she would go out. While she brushed her hair and arranged it in a ponytail, he asked:

"What is this meeting you're going to?"

"Remember the guy I met at the work gathering last week? The one with the project of doing an illustrated special edition of his series of books that was considering me?"

"Yeah I remember."

Feyre left the bathroom, grabbed a pair of cream flat shoes, put them on, and started going through her shelves.

"Well he's in town today and wanted to see some of my ideas. He's leaving for New York in a few hours and he told me to meet him for lunch with my drawings so that we could talk and see if he would consider me further for his project. I can't find my… Oh thank the Gods, here it is!" She finished, pulling a drawing tablet out of her mess and packing it in her bag. Standing by the door, looking at her, breathing quickly, cheeks flushed, Rhys couldn't help but want to kiss her deeply and get her once again naked on the bed. But obviously, they had to go now, and he opened the door, holding her keys for her. She got out, waited for him to exit and closed frantically the door behind them.

In less than five minutes, they had gone from naked and kissing, to standing on the street, waving a taxi for her. He looked at her, and at the panicked expression on her face, he didn't resist any longer. He cupped her cheeks gently and forced her to look at him.

"Hey Feyre, calm down. You have plenty of time, you have your drawings with you, you don't look at all as if you'd just gotten out of bed. It's gonna be great, I'm sure he's gonna love your ideas."

That wasn't an exaggeration. From the different works she'd shown him, she had a very unique and interesting style. He was no expert of course, but he'd been fascinated by her use of colors in both landscapes and human faces, and had no doubt the guy she was meeting would not hesitate in working with her. She held his gaze and seemed to relax.

"Thank you Rhys. I'm sorry we had to get up in such a hurry…"

"Hey no problem. Here's a cab."

He opened the door for her and Feyre was about to enter, but she turned towards him and kissed him. Sensing her lips on him sent shivers down his spine and he didn't resist pulling her closer, as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He got lost in the feeling of her body against his, and when she let go of him, he opened her eyes to find her looking at him with longing in her eyes. She took a deep breath and whispered:

"Right. I gotta go."

"Right."

"I'll call you."

And with a last kiss on his lips, she got into the taxi.