Nesta stood in the dining room at the House of Wind, staring at the table with a slight frown. Her pale, slender hands rested on her narrow, toned hips as she surveyed the long dining table. Tonight had been the weekly court dinner, and it had been their turn to host.
The usual mess of crockery, cutlery, empty wine glasses and bottles littered the surface of the table, and the end where Nyx had sat was smeared in half-chewed morsels that her darling nephew had tossed there. She sighed and moved to start stacking the plates, but before she could even reach out a hand, the dishes disappeared, the table suddenly clean and smelling faintly of polish.
'Thank you,' Nesta said to the air, and smiled softly as a brush of warm wind caressed her cheek. The house, their house now thanks to Rhys, was still just as attentive to her as it had ever been. Apart from Emerie and Gwyn, it mostly ignored orders from everyone else, much to her endless amusement and Cassian's infinite frustration. As if thinking of him had summoned him, Nesta heard a huff from behind her and turned to see Cassian struggling past the doorway with a teetering pile of books balanced precariously in his strong, tanned arms.
The discussion about the potential looming war had gone on well after dinner, leading them all to retire to the comfortable chairs in the living room to continue the conversation while Nyx played with Cassian on the floor between them all. At Nesta's request, the house had delivered a stack of books to them from the library downstairs, each containing some mention of the history of the other Fae realms across the sea. But once everyone had gone home, the house had pointedly ignored Cassian's overly polite plea for the books to be returned, so he had irritably set about collecting them and Nesta had left him to it.
Cassian was still grumbling as he bent and lowered the stack to the floor near the stairway to the library, clearly with the intention for someone to take them down with them on the next trip. The movement of placing them down caused the book that sat at the top to slide from the stack and drop to the floor. Cassian swore in Illyrian, and stooped to pick it up.
Nesta went wholy still. There was something about the gutteral stops, mixed with the soft rolling undertone and slight growl of Illyrian that really riled her. She'd only ever heard him use it on a few occasions, and those times had always been in Windhaven, where she had managed to hide her reaction from him. She'd never admitted it to him, but the sound of it in his voice always sent a charge of electricity through her that rooted in her core.
She watched him, praying that he might have missed her response, then cringed internally as she watched him stiffen. He straightened, book in hand, and she knew by the way his nostrils flared that he knew. She should have known better than to hope that he wouldn't notice. She should have known that here, in their home, there would be no hiding from him.
His head whipped to her, his eyes darkening, and a smirk pulled at his lips as he prowled towards her, wings tucking in slightly as he approached. The book was tossed carelessly back onto the stack it had come from, where it slid across the top and fell off the other side with a dull thunk. Neither of them paid it any further attention.
She backed up slowly, eyes fixed on his, until she bumped into the table behind her. She gripped its edge for support, and tracked his movements as he stalked closer, then stopped in front of her. He leaned forward, bracing his own hands on either side of hers and pausing when there was only an inch of space left between them. He dipped his head and ran his nose up her pale neck, inhaling deeply.
'Gods, your scent ... ' He sighed against her throat, making her shiver. 'It'll be the death of me one of these days.' He pulled back to look at her again, and she saw the feline humour in his hazel eyes. 'So, what's got you so turned on, mate? Was it seeing me bend over? Were you enjoying the view?'
'I ... ' She fumbled for words, debated lying, but he raised one eyebrow, his grin growing, and it was the impulse to wipe it from his face that made her say, 'Actually, it was hearing you speak in Illyrian.'
She heard the wood of the table groan as Cassian's strong, callused fingers dug into it. His smile did indeed disappear, but it was replaced by an expression of such primal need that Nesta felt suddenly light-headed.
'You find it that arousing when I speak in my mother tongue?' he asked, his voice soft, full of promise. She shrugged, carefully arranging her face into a mask of indifference.
'It could just be the Illyrian,' she mused, holding his gaze, letting the corner of her own mouth twitch upwards in a mocking smile. 'I could always ask Emerie to speak it to me. I may have the same response.' His eyes flickered dangerously, and she knew he was imagining her being aroused by her Valkyrie sister. Such a typical male response. So she went for the killing blow. 'Or maybe I'll ask Azriel to - '
'Don't you fucking dare.' A possessive snarl tore from him, and she smirked at his response. He had always been easily goaded whenever she mentioned his brother - probably because she'd always said that he was prettier than Cassian. And he was. The Shadowsinger was very attractive, slightly softer-featured, the more graceful of the three Illyrians in her family. But Cassian, with his rippling muscles, shoulder-length black hair and expressive, open face ... to her, Cassian was by far more beautiful.
He chuckled, and she realised that she'd been silent for too long, just surveying him. He locked eyes with her, and all mirth left his face at whatever he saw there. He murmured in Illyrian, a longer string of words this time, and that charge went through her again. She bit into her lower lip to hold back a moan, to stop herself from arching into him, and his eyes dropped to her mouth. A small sound escaped from the back of his throat, and she realised that his teasing was affecting him just as much as it was her.
'What did you just say?' she managed to choke out.
'I said ... ' He seemed to be struggling to concentrate, his voice very low now, thick with his desire, and she shuddered slightly at the tone and the shift in his own scent. The air in her lungs was suddenly too thin to speak, so she merely cocked her head slightly in a silent prompt to continue. His breath puffed against her lips as he translated, 'I said, you're mine. My fierce, bold, delectable mate. And I don't like to share what's mine.'
With a small groan she closed the gap between them, crushing her lips to his, her hands flying up to tangle in his black, shoulder length hair. His arms snaked around her waist, pulling her tight against him. Her feet left the floor as he held her to his chest, and she gasped as her body turned molten at the feel of him. He took the opportunity to snake his tongue into her mouth, exploring roughly, scraping it against her teeth.
And because she knew it would drive him wild, because she loved it when he lost control and unleashed himself on her, she pulled his hair sharply as she closed her lips around his tongue and sucked hard. He growled as she released it, more Illyrian tumbling from him as he pulled away. She gaped at him, and he laughed huskily as he dropped his head to her neck and said in the common tongue, 'Perhaps I'd better keep my mouth free, knowing what I do now.'
He licked at the collumn of her neck, and breathed phrases of Illyrian into her ear, not bothering to translate them as one of his hands drifted lower and kneaded her buttocks. Heat pooled between her legs, and she had to fight the urge to writhe against him, desperate for friction. Instead, she released his hair and gripped his shoulders, pushing gently in silent demand. He immediately lowered her to the floor, and she looked up at him briefly, letting him see the flash of mischief in her eyes before swiftly dropping to her knees between him and the table.
'Nes,' he began, reaching for her shoulders to lift her again, but she batted his hands away.
'I want to hear what you have to say when I do this,' she murmured, and pressed a kiss to his prominent erection, through his trousers. He grunted, his hands falling to her head as she slowly, teasingly unfastened his laces. His thick fingers worked delicately, and she realised that he was carefully removing the pins that kept her hair coiled in a braid around her head. He'd told her so many times how much he loved her hair, especially when it was free, unbound.
She shook her head as he removed the last pin and her hair fell down in a heavy rope from the top of her head. Oh-so-gently, Cassian ran his hands through it, until the braid was completely undone and her hair was spilling down her back in a long, golden-brown wave. She looked up at him, and he cupped her face in his hand, running one rough thumb over her cheekbone as he muttered something that she was pretty sure she didn't need a translation for. The softness in his eyes told her what he was thinking. Beautiful.
Blushing slightly, she returned her attention to his trousers and slid them and his undershorts down his muscled thighs, once again biting back the noise that tried to leave her as his cock sprang free. It always managed to impress her, its girth and length always a bit of a surprise no matter how many times she saw it. He was already entirely hard, and his tip glistened with pre-cum. She returned her gaze to his and held it as she leaned forward, extending her tongue to flick against him.
Cassian swore loudly, faltering as his knees buckled, and he reached out one hand to grasp the table behind her. His other hand tangled into a fist in the hair at the back of her head, but he didn't use it to direct her. Not yet. He wanted to build up to it too, it seemed. She raised a hand and set up a torturously slow pace, pumping him in her fist as she squeezed him hard and raked her nails against the velvet softness of his shaft.
Cassian grunted as she flicked her tongue along his slit, his hazel eyes ablaze as he stared down at her, watching her work him. From the very beginning she'd known almost instinctively how he liked it when she did this, just as he'd known how to fuck her the way she needed him to. And as her nails scraped his length again and her other hand rose to tug at his balls, he couldn't hold back the satisfied snarl that ripped from him as he watched his love, his mate, indulge in pleasuring him.
Nesta wrapped her lips around his tip as her hand continued to work him and slowly bobbed her head, back and forth, taking more and more of him in until his blunt head hit the back of her throat. She withdrew, and the slight drag of her teeth against his shaft told him what she wanted. He tightened his grip at the back of her head and thrust into her mouth.
She whimpered when he pulled back, her eyes rolling as desire pulsed through her. He could see her nipples pebbling through the thin material of her long, midnight-blue dress, and he snarled again as he thrust deeper. He set up a steady pace, and soon her throat adjusted to him and her hands began their assualt once more, rapidly steering him towards the edge.
He thrust in and out of her mouth, and she knew she was growing wetter. She loved how he took her, how he claimed her. She looked up at him through her lowered lashes, and he let out another stream of Illyrian. From the tone of it, she knew some of it was cursing, but all of it was extremely arousing to her. He'd always had a filthy mouth, and just the thought of what he was saying in that harsh dialect made her moan around him, almost made her reach between her own legs to relieve some of the ache there. He shuddered, his thrusts becoming slightly erratic, his ending racing towards him. She swallowed around his length.
The wood of the table behind her made an ominous cracking sound as Cassian gripped it too tightly, his head tipping back and neck straining as he roared through his release. He choked out her name as he spilled into her mouth, and she continued to suck and pump him until his hand tightened in her hair in a warning signal to stop. She contemplated ignoring it, but her own lust was heightened enough that she needed to do something to sate it.
So she released him, allowing his cock to slide from between her lips. She remained on her knees until he opened his eyes again, and when he finally looked at her she opened her mouth to show him his seed, cupped in her tongue, before she swallowed it down. He groaned at the sight and reached for her once more, setting her on her feet. He rasped something as he pressed a kiss to her lips and wound his arms around her waist.
'You've said that a few times now,' she murmured, running her fingers through his now slightly sweaty hair as he rested his forehead against hers, panting as he tried to regain his breath and his control. 'What does it mean?'
He knew what she was referring to. He'd been repeatedly saying the phrase that seemed to come naturally to those who felt the pull of the mating bond, unable to stop it slipping from him, relishing in how it sounded in his mother tongue. He straightened until he was able to look into her steely grey-blue eyes once more, one hand raising to tuck her hair behind her pointed ear. He said gently, 'You're mine. And I'm yours.'
Nesta's knees almost buckled, but she forced herself to stay upright as she made herself breathe out, 'Say it again.'
He drawled the words, and she focused on the lilting tone, the phrasing, and carefully repeated it back to him. His eyes went almost completely black in response.
'Fuck, I never thought I'd find Illyrian so fucking hot,' he growled. 'Just one tip though, sweetheart. Try rolling the r's a little more. Like this.' He spoke another phrase, and she repeated it, concentrating on forming the syllables. She felt proud of herself. Until she saw his massive, shit-eating grin.
'And what did you just have me say?' she demanded, already rolling her eyes at what was bound to be some self-inflated male bullshit.
'Only the truth, my love,' he chuckled, clearly pleased with himself. 'That you're constantly in need of my thick, hard cock.' She snorted, crossing her arms over her chest as she levelled an unimpressed glare at him. His grin only widened as he said, 'Ah, number 11. The I'm about to rip off Cassian's balls look. A personal favourite of mine.'
'A favourite?' she sighed, disbelieving. 'And why is knowing that you've frustrated me to the point of wanting to maim you an exciting prospect?'
'Because, mate,' he growled, flashing his teeth, barely-contained lust sparking in his eyes. 'When you get that look, I take it as a personal challenge to remind you of why you need to leave me intact.'
She surveyed him, considering his words, and didn't stop the slow, sensual smile that tugged at her lips. Her arms fell to her sides and she tilted her head up to look at him. 'Go ahead, Cassian,' she purred. 'Remind me.'
He shuddered at the sound of his name. She said it so rarely that it had almost become an intimacy. Indeed, she mostly seemed to use it when they were alone and the insatiable lust of the mating bond was pulling at them. It made it hard to concentrate on the rare occasions that she said his name when they were in public. A fact she seemed to know and delight in, throwing the word out an inappropriate moments, just to see him stagger.
The challenge in her eyes, the defiant tilt of her chin, brought him back to the present, and he was almost instantly hard again. His mouth met hers fiercely, and he groaned against her lips, savouring the taste of her, the smell of her, the feel of her. He braced one hand against the table, the other coming up to circle her waist, lifting her quickly and depositing her on the table top. She spread her knees automatically and he stepped between her legs, pressing his hips to hers. His naked length rubbed against her core through the folds of her skirts, sending a jolt of need through her and tearing a high moan from her throat.
Cassian gripped her thighs tightly, his thumbs pressing into the sensitive flesh, and she broke their kiss as her head fell back. He instantly latched onto her neck, licking and sucking at the pale skin, his teeth nipping at her as his desire grew. His hands bunched in her skirts and he pulled, raising the dress up. She shifted to let him pull the garment over her hips, then lifted her arms to let him tug it off of her completely, holding back her grin when his eyes fell to her body. She'd forgone all underclothes, anticipating her mate's need for easy access tonight.
He let out a small whimper as he took in her naked body. He'd not been prepared to see her bare just yet, and his brain seemed to freeze with the surge of lust that coursed through him. Dumbly, he raised slightly shaking hands towards her, then forced himself to meet her eyes, eyebrows raising in silent question.
'Touch me, Cassian,' she breathed, and something about the need in her tone broke his stupor. He gave her a feral smile as he pressed his body to hers again, their mouths meeting once more. He placed one hand behind her head and the other on her back, and she allowed him to guide her to the table. Goosebumps rose across her flesh as her skin met cool wood, and he moved down her body to lave his tongue along the expanses of bare flesh below him.
His hands explored her torso as he licked at her neck, then her collarbones, then traced a pattern down between her breasts. He nipped at the sensitive underside of one as his fingers tweaked the hardened nipple of the other, making her writhe as she sought friction.
'Patience, sweetheart,' he murmured against her breast, chuckling darkly as she let out an impatient huff. Her hands fell to either side of her, gripping the edges of the table, her knuckles going white as he ran his tongue in languid circles around her navel.
'Cassian,' she panted, his name a plea as her hips bucked upwards. One of his large, scarred arms draped over her waist, pinning her to the table as he continued his downward path. When he reached her centre, he knelt on the floor between her legs and breathed in slowly.
'Your scent at your neck is intoxicating,' he growled, his voice so low and grating that it was almost incomprehensible. 'But here ... ' He ran a finger along her soaked folds, watching as she strained against his arm over her waist, trying to get his touch where she needed it. 'Here, it's almost sinful.' His finger finally met her apex, and she whimpered as he retreated once more, down her slit to her entrance. He wasted no time before burying his digit deep inside her. She was so slick, nearly ready for him already, but he added another finger to her when he pushed back in, then another. He wanted to warm her up as much as possible.
There were times when they were so desperate for each other, when he'd been away at the training camps or she'd spent the night at Rhys and Feyre's to look after Nyx and give them a break, that when they came together again he knew to take her immediately. Knew that she was ready for him and needed him to fill her hard and fast. But tonight, he wanted to take his time.
So he paused with three of his thick fingers inside her, and simply curled them upwards. She swore as her back arched from the table, and he grinned in satisfaction. He loved being the only one who could undo her like this. He twisted his fingers again, then set up a slow pace of moving them in and out, watching as her fluids gathered on his knuckles then slid down into his palm. He leaned forward, slipping his shoulders under her knees, and flicked his tongue against her clit. Nesta let out a little scream.
'Gods, I love seeing you like this,' he growled, and with apparent effort she raised herself up onto on her elbows to meet his gaze. The glimmer in her eyes made him pause, until he felt it. She ran her toes gently against the membrane of his wings. His back stiffened, arching as the touch sent bolts of pleasure through him, and when he looked back at her face he saw the glow of triumph in her eyes.
All thoughts of taking his time went out of his mind. His mate wanted to play, and he was not about to lose this particular game to her. Not again. He plunged his fingers into her, thrusting deep and hard and fast, and flattened his tongue against her bundle of nerves. The motion he created with his thrusting pushed her along his tongue, and he lapped at her, groaning as her taste coated his mouth. He looked up at her again, and felt his shaft throb almost painfully as he beheld her. She was watching him, every inch his queen looking down on her loyal servant, her lower lip snagged between her teeth, one hand squeezing at one of her breasts.
She lay back again and her hand travelled down to tangle in his hair, keeping him in place. For a moment he smiled, feeling her nearing her end as she started to tighten around him, but then her toes pressed into his wings and he moaned against her. She'd grabbed his hair to stop him moving away while she made her counter-attack. The lust that ripped through him was almost painful, and he didn't care about the game any more. His cock was uncomfortably hard, and if he didn't do something with it soon and she kept playing with his wings like that ...
'Clever girl,' he growled as he pulled away. She whined at the loss of his fingers, his tongue, and he smirked down at her as he stood and leaned over her, making sure she was watching as he slowly licked his fingers clean. Fire sparked in her eyes, and his desperation to have her here, now, was almost palpable. He managed to hiss, 'Turn over.'
Nesta immediately complied, rolling onto her stomach, her legs dangling off the table, toes only just reaching the floor. He stepped in closer to her, nudging her legs a little wider with his knees as he positioned himself. He grapsed his aching cock and grunted at the mild relief the friction gave him, but it was not enough. It was never enough to use his own hand any more, not when he knew just how good it felt to be buried in her.
'How do you want it, Nes?' he breathed, his free hand tracing down her spine, over the ink splayed there. The ink from her bargain with the Cauldron. For a second his heart swelled at the love and sacrifice that had sealed that bargain, at what she had given up for her family, his family, their family. But he shook his head, focusing again on the feel of her under his hand.
'Take me hard, Cassain,' she breathed, looking over her shoulder at him, her gaze almost staggering him. 'Don't hold back. Take what you need from me. Give me everything.'
'Always,' he whispered, and leaned down to kiss the centre of her spine. She shivered at the intimate touch, and looked at him again as he straightened. He spoke quietly to her in Illyrian once more, and her face softened almost imperceptably.
'I love you, too.' It was all he needed. He pressed forwards hard and fast, and buried himself in her to the hilt. She screamed, her hands shooting out to grasp the table, and he stilled, waiting for her breathing to even out, a sign that she had adjusted to the intrusion of his thick member. Only then did he pull back and thrust in again. She whined, her cheek now against the table, and he landed a stinging slap to her rear. Her back arched, head raising, and he wound his hand into her locks and gripped tight.
'Look at me, Nesta,' he growled, his other hand sliding down her thigh and lifting it so that it rested on the table top. The position turned her onto her side slightly, meaning that she could look back at him more comfortably. 'You look at me while I fuck your pretty little cunt. I want you to remember that it's only me who can make you feel like this. Only me who knows what you want, what you need.'
'Yes,' she hissed, her eyes locked on his, her cheeks flushed with desire. 'Show me.'
He only snarled as he set up a punishing pace, his pelvis slamming into her arse over and over as he fucked her. She whimpered and writhed against the table, but she held his gaze as he'd told her to, even when his free hand snaked under her body and he pressed his fingers to her clit. She bit her lip so hard that he could have sworn he smelled her blood. But soon her eyes were glazed, and he could feel her contracting around his shaft as she neared her end. He'd not taken her all of the way before, and he knew that because of this, when she did go it would be powerful.
'That's it,' he grunted, his hair swaying in time with his thrusts. The table creaked worryingly under them as he ploughed into her, but he ignored it. 'Cum for me, Nesta. You're mine, and I'm yours. There will never be anyone else for either of us, there can never be anything besides this. I want you to come undone for me, I want to fill you with my seed. So give it to me, sweetheart. Let go, Nes.'
'Cass!' Her eyes rolled into her head and her body contracted under him as she came, her walls clenching so tight around him that he gasped. He'd known it would be powerful, but ...
He couldn't think any further than that as he followed her over the edge, leaning down to bite into her shoulder as he emptied himself deep inside her. She screamed again as the pleasurable pain from his bite triggered a second orgasm, and he kept thrusting, riding them both through it, until she collapsed onto the table and he went with her, catching himself with a forearm planted beside her head so that he didn't crush her. They lay there, panting, for a long time, his body slick with sweat against hers, so warm and lithe underneath him.
As much as he loved the sex, he loved these moments just as much. When their heartbeats fell into sync as they both came down from their high, enjoying the blissful afterglow and just breathing each other in. She started to trace lazy patterns along his forearm, and it brought him back to himself enough that he realised his legs were shaking. He slowly sank into the chair next to him, pulling her from the table with him to cradle her in his arms, his wings flaring out and wrapping around her to keep their warmth close. A thought suddenly struck him as she kissed his hair.
'Is the, uh, house around?' he asked, his voice somewhat hoarse. He didn't know why he was suddenly so conscious of the ... whatever the house was, and whether it had witnessed their acitvities. She paused, seeming to listen and almost mentally feel the air around them, then shook her head.
'I think it makes itself scarce when we're ... together,' she said, and chuckled lightly when he physically relaxed. 'Does it matter?'
'Like I said,' he murmured, pulling his wings tighter around them and kissing her throat. 'I don't like to share you.'
'Such stereotypical possesive male behaviour,' she chided, though he heard the smile in her voice as she gently stroked his wings, sending a shiver down his spine. 'Really, Cassian, I might expect it around other males, but to be jealous of a house?' Her words and tone sparked something deep in his loins, and he swiftly stood, scooping her into his arms. She squawked in protest, but he ignored her as he carried her towards their shared bedroom.
'Oh, I'll show you possesive, mate.'