Chapter Text
“Seems like you’re a little on edge, Nesta. And you left so abruptly last night … Any way I can help ease that tension?”
The words—his words—haunted him for the next fortnight. Had he really fucking said that to her? With Feyre there, looking on with an air of exasperated interest? It was honestly surprising she hadn’t eviscerated him on the spot.
He’d seen the way she’d shifted where she stood, though. How her eyes had burned, hot like the silver flames he’d seen come from her all those months ago, and how her scent had tipped into something tantalizing and sweet. She’d been affected by his words, even if she refused to admit it.
And he wanted her to admit it, gods he did. So much so, that he found himself seeking her out at every available turn. She’d evaded him thus far, always sequestered away in lessons with Amren when he had a free moment to fly up to the House of Wind or busy keeping vigil over Elain as she spent her days silently gardening at the townhouse.
Such was his repeated luck, day after day, though the choice to drop by today was more purposeful than anything. Azriel had let it slip during their debrief earlier that morning that Nesta was in a foul mood, even more so than normal, and that Amren was only making things worse.
He’d hauled his ass up to the House the second they wrapped up, and his brother had bade him farewell, a wary, yet knowing look on his face.
Azriel could fuck right off.
When Cassian touched down onto the smooth, worn stone of the balcony he typically entered the House through, he shivered in anticipation of the inevitable showdown that was to come. There was something to every interaction he had with Nesta, no matter how unpleasant and cutting her words were, that invigorated him. He’d lived, and lived well, the past 500 years, but her very presence seemed to amplify his surroundings in a way that transcended words.
His sense of smell, sight, hearing—all morphed into something bigger, something more, when she was in close proximity. To put it simply, it was an addiction he’d chase the high of for as long as he was able; of that, he was certain.
He shook himself from the distracted reverie, laughing a bit at how pathetic he’d become over a female who didn’t even like him. Not that any amount of self-reflection on the matter would change how he felt. No, not even a chance. And so, he meandered down the halls of the House, hands casually shoved in his pockets, as he waited for any sign of Nesta’s return.
***
Cassian lasted ten minutes before finding himself in front of her bedroom door. He’d stood there for all of a heartbeat, debating on whether or not he should knock in case she’d managed to slip inside before he’d flown up, when the hinges began to creak, and the heavy wooden door slid partway open.
While the House was known to work in mysterious ways and did unexplainable things all the time, he couldn’t help the way the hair at the back of his neck rose, or how he slid into a protective stance, readying himself for an attack, no matter how foolish it felt in a place as heavily warded as this one.
“Nesta?” He called tentatively before moving toward the cracked door, silently drawing a dagger, and willing his power to the surface of his siphons should he need to draw on it.
There was no answer, either from within the room or from elsewhere in the House. The door creaked open even further, wide enough that Cassian could now peer inside.
Nothing looked out of place, and as far as he could see, or scent, no one was inside.
“This isn’t funny,” he murmured, hoping the House would understand the words were directed toward it. The lone window in the room, situated to the right of the bed, slid open in response, letting in a gentle breeze that stirred the gauzy white curtains and caused the pages of an open book sitting on the bedside table to flip and flutter.
Cassian stepped fully inside the room, intent on closing the window and righting the book when the scent fully hit him. Something metallic, like hot steel on an anvil, as it was molded into an unbreakable blade. Fire, blazing and all-consuming, the moment before it overran the thing you loved most in the world, and finally something biting and cold, like the first inhale of frosty air on an early winter morning.
He whimpered, knees almost buckling beneath him, as his cock hardened to the point of pain. Cauldron damn him, what had he been thinking, coming into her room? It was difficult enough to be in her near proximity, but to be deep within a place that she spent hours inside? Surrounded by things she touched and wore daily to the point that they were permanently imbued with her scent?
Well, it was something that felt a lot like torture.
What he should have done was immediately turn around and exit the room as swiftly as possible. Instead, like the fucking idiot he was, he lingered. He lingered and gulped down deep breaths of the very scent that both put his teeth on edge and all the while made his soul sing.
His eyes flickered to the bed, and he groaned to see the silken sheets mussed. It was as if Nesta had been in too much of a hurry to leave and had left everything as it was when she rolled out of bed. Images, ranging from innocent to pure filth flashed across his eyes by the dozen.
Nesta in bed, naked and writhing as her slim fingers stroked herself to the thought of him, of their arguments and how much she loved it, for all she acted like she hated it, hated him. Nesta sat cross-legged, a steaming cup of tea set down next to her, utterly forgotten, as she became fully entranced in whatever smutty book she’d picked from the library that day. Nesta, Nesta, Nesta.
Without thinking about what he was doing, he staggered to the bed, clutching onto the closest bedposts with one hand, while the other scrambled to undo the stays of his trousers. The second they were loosened enough, his hand plunged inside to clutch his throbbing cock. He squeezed himself at the base in an attempt to relieve some of the mounting pressure before giving himself a perfunctory stroke and smearing the precum at his leaking tip around slowly with his thumb.
She would fucking kill him if she knew what he was doing, but in that moment, he was too far gone to care. His cock was in his hand, he was surrounded by her lovely scent, and not even the Mother herself was going to stop him now that he’d begun.
Cassian’s eyes fluttered closed, and he resigned himself to the fact that he was most certainly going to burn for this.
***
She was going to kill him.
When Azriel had dropped her off at the House minutes ago, he hadn’t lingered, only thrown a knowing grimace over his shoulder at her and murmured something that sounded a hell of a lot like, “Good luck,” before his shadows carried him away into darkness.
With Elain still at the townhouse and her stomach cramping painfully after the gruelling lessons with Amren, Nesta had thought to make a beeline to the dining room and plead with the house for a quick bite to eat before heading to the library. Instead, she’d been…herded, for lack of a better word, toward her bedroom.
The door was wide open, which was odd considering she clearly remembered shutting and locking it on her way out earlier that morning. Perhaps the House had opened it prematurely in anticipation of her arrival? Something told her that wasn’t the case, though, not entirely, and so she crept toward the open door frame as quietly as she knew how.
She was nearly there when the sound of a strangled groan froze her in place. It took every ounce of restraint not to charge in and determine what was going on, whether or not someone was in trouble, and who that someone might be. But then she remembered where she was. War was brewing, and she was nestled within the court of the most powerful High Lord who had more than a few enemies.
It would be stupid of her to enter the room without first doing a bit of reconnaissance. If only Azriel hadn’t left…but surely he would have sensed if she’d been in danger, right? He was Rhys’s spymaster for the Mother’s sake.
Steeling her spine, Nesta tiptoed forward, even as her heartbeat hammered loud enough she felt the need to place a hand over her chest in an attempt to dampen the sound of it.
His scent hit her a moment before he came into view. Pine, and spice, and sweat, put into an even sharper focus than usual because of what he was doing. His back was to her, and though he was still fully clothed, she could tell by the way his spine was curved in on itself, how the muscles of his shoulders and back tensed and moved, and how his bicep flexed, that he was touching himself.
So lost in the pleasure of fucking his own hand, clearly, that this Illyrian warrior—General of armies—of nearly 500 years, a veritable killing machine, didn’t sense her.
Something tensed low in her belly, and flames licked up her skin, both with desire and fury.
How dare he come into her space and touch himself? Did he think she wouldn’t find out? That she wouldn’t mind? Well, she did. But not for the reason he might think.
She’d never been properly touched by a man. Not once. For a long while, it had been because she considered herself too good for any of the men in her village. Her mother had wanted a better match for her, one with a pedigree that hadn’t been seen on their little stretch of the Mortal Realms in years. And then they’d lost their money and any hope of marrying for status had been flushed away.
If given the choice, she’d rather not think about what happened next. With Tomas. No, she wouldn’t let the memory of what she’d endured at his hands ruin any chance of future happiness, of pleasure.
And she knew just what to do to chase the memories of that cretin, that nobody, from her mind.
She may be inexperienced when it came to sex, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t push the male in front of her. As it happened, she was an expert in that. And if her pushing led to something more…
Nesta shivered at the thought of those broad, calloused fingers on her unblemished skin, pushing the skirts of her dress up her legs and slipping her sleeves down her shoulders until her aching breasts were exposed. The confidence he exuded in everyday life would translate to his skill in the bedroom. She knew that without a single doubt.
What she also knew was that she was tired of feeling helpless, like a stranger in this new body. She hadn’t yet touched herself since being pushed into the Cauldron. It had felt wrong, damning. But she was done with all of that. She deserved more.
Nesta blew out a shallow, shaking breath and pushed.
“Seems like you’re a little on edge, Cassian.” Gods, it felt good to throw the words back at him. Especially when he tensed and ceased all movement at the realization she was there, watching him. “Any way I can help ease that tension? Though…it seems as if you have things quite in hand yourself.”
***
He hadn’t immediately stilled said hand, such was the roaring in his ears as he’d been chasing release higher and faster. For a moment, he thought her sudden presence was something his lust-riddled mind had conjured. It wasn’t until she’d crossed the room and leaned a hip against the bedpost he was desperately still clutching at, he realized no phantasm could reproduce her scent and body heat that perfectly.
As his mind raced to catch up, he replayed what she’d said in that dark, cutting tone of hers and winced when it finally sank in. It figured that she’d use his words against him in such a way. Gods, he was stupid. And pathetic. How hadn’t he heard, or scented, or felt her approach?
She made a clicking noise with her tongue, and he glanced over to find that she’d crossed her arms and was watching him with a fierce intensity he couldn’t quite decipher. “Don’t stop on my account. You started this here in my space. Why don’t you finish?”
It was a trap. It had to be.
The hand still wrapped around his cock, twitched and he bit down on the inside of his cheek so hard that copper flooded his mouth.
“Nesta…” Her name came out as a warning growl.
“Yes?” She asked, smirking coyly up at him, before her eyes flicked down to where he held himself.
He didn’t miss how her eyes flared with interest, and how sweetness permeated the air in a way it hadn’t mere minutes ago. She stared and stared and made no move to leave.
He decided to test his luck, moving his hand up and down his length in a few lazy strokes.
Nesta sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and held it between her teeth. Cassian wanted to replace them with his.
Oh, how he wanted.
“What are we doing, Nesta?” He bit out, desperately, all the while continuing to stroke himself slowly, but steadily.
She hummed lightly, and he wondered what it might feel like if she tried that with his cock down her throat. He stifled another groan.
“Looks to me like you’re fucking your hand in my bedroom,” she mused. “And I happen to also be here…” She paused, as if shoring herself up to continue. “To observe.”
He gripped himself more tightly, strokes becoming rougher.
“To…observe?” It was growing harder to concentrate and form coherent thoughts the longer she stood there, staring.
Nesta’s tongue darted out to wet her bottom lip, and a short, breathy laugh burst from her. Her once-cool exterior fractured just the slightest. “I’ve never watched anything like this before.”
Yes, he suspected as much. What he didn’t expect was how she hadn’t already thrown him out on his ass, or blasted him into next week with that power she tried to keep hidden.
He stilled his hand and covered himself, not wanting to somehow fuck up whatever spell that had been cast over them.
“Would you like to…touch me?” He ventured quietly, voice as rough as gravel.
Pink flooded her cheeks and up the length of her throat. She swallowed heavily. “No. I think I’d just like to watch for right now if that’s okay.”
He chuckled darkly. “Sweetheart, that’s more than okay.”
It occurred to him that she might be coming to the realization that she was in over her head. He knew that she was a virgin and was inexperienced. The last thing he wanted to do was overwhelm her, but she also seemed willing and interested enough. “What else do you want?”
Nesta hesitated for the first time since catching him in the act of touching himself and the sight of her suddenly looking more than a little lost and unsure ruined him.
“Look at me, Nes.”
He watched as her jaw ticked as she clenched her teeth and she stared across the room, eyes flitting from one thing to the next before finally turning to focus her gaze on him.
“I’ll do whatever you want.”
Her breath hitched and his mouth watered at the sight of her pulse fluttering wildly at her throat.
“Anything?”
If only you knew, Nesta, he thought to himself, praying that the full extent of desperation he felt didn’t show in his eyes. “Anything,” he confirmed.
That unholy, silver light, snatched from the Cauldron itself, flooded her irises at his response. “Would you get on your knees for me?”
He didn’t think twice before sinking to the ground until his knees kissed the worn but intricately woven rug below Nesta’s bed.
“Cassian…” His name sounded like an expletive as it fell from her lips, and he drew his wings in tight as his entire body shuddered in response.
Had she asked it, he would have crawled over hot coals for her. She’d already seen him, half dead, wings shredded as he tried in vain to reach her while they were in Hybern’s castle. She had to know how he felt for her.
And if she didn’t…well, at the very least he could show her how she affected him.
“I’m going to touch myself again. If you want me to stop at any time, tell me. You control what happens inside this room, Nesta. Okay?”
She nodded, mouth open just the slightest as she hungrily watched him push his trousers down over his ass so that he had more room to work with. He grasped his cock once more, stroking roughly.
“Tell me how you like it,” she demanded, though the words were hardly more than a whisper. Her own hands flew up to clutch at the bedpost next to her as if for support, and she leaned her cheek against the opulently carved wood.
“You want me to talk you through it? Tell you what I like?” His voice hitched as his hand sped up, and she nodded, wide-eyed.
He groaned, couldn’t fucking help himself, before answering. “I like it rough. Rough, tight grip. Fast strokes.”
His other hand slid down to cup his balls, tugging on them slightly.
“Wh-what else?” She swallowed heavily, and he didn’t miss how she shifted her thighs back and forth, as if trying to create friction to ease the growing pressure he guessed would be mounting within her core.
You. He was seconds away from saying it. Yelling it. You, you, you, it’s only ever you, Nesta.
Instead, he grinned crookedly. “A hot mouth and tight cunt also does the trick.”
She spluttered in outrage, rearing back the slightest at his crass words.
“You asked, Nes.” He fell silent then, as did she, as he released his grip on himself to spit on his hand before bringing it back down to grasp his aching cock. Between that and the precome leaking from his weeping tip, his hand stroked faster, easier.
Pressure mounted at the base of his spine, and his wings trembled as he tried his damndest to prolong the inevitable. The second he came, she would undoubtedly kick him out, and he might never get a chance like this again.
His hand slowed, though his grip remained tight and he ripped his eyes away from her body to desperately search out anything that wouldn’t add fuel to the fire ripping its way through his nerve endings.
She laughed, a soft, melodic thing that taunted him. He could do this. He could last. He wasn’t a fucking youngling who had just discovered pleasure at his own hand.
In the end, autonomy was ripped from him as Nesta leaned down and gripped his chin with her hand, demanding his attention once more. “Let go, Cassian.”
And so, he did. It felt as though he were free falling as he found release, making sure to pull away from her just the slightest, so that his spend didn’t make a mess of her. For as much as the thought appealed to him, he didn’t think she would appreciate that…this time around, anyway.
When there was nothing left to give, Cassian collapsed forward, breathing heavily. He felt Nesta’s hands sink into his sweaty locks, and she scratched her nails lightly along his scalp. Cauldron boil him, he had never came so hard in his fucking life. And the only point of contact between them had been her hand on his face. He couldn’t imagine what it might be like if it had been her hands, her mouth on him.
He moaned, “If you don’t stop that, I’ll be ready for round two in mere minutes.”
She hummed, and he had the sense she was smiling down at him. They stayed that way for several heartbeats, her massaging his scalp, him trying, and failing to regain his bearings.
Nesta was the first to break the silence with a soft, “Thank you. For letting me watch. For showing me.”
If he hadn’t already been on his knees, that would have sent him to them. How could he properly respond? There was never even a question of whether or not he’d want her to watch and he’d die before denying her any sort of request, let alone her asking him to show her how he pleased himself.
Fuck.
There was one thing he could do for her…If only she let him. It would even the scales, give her power back, and most importantly, give her the pleasure she so deserved. She might say no, and he’d respect that, of course he would. But…the least he could do was try.
Cassian lifted his head and encircled her wrists with his hands. He stroked the insides of them with his thumbs, relishing the soft feel of her skin and how he could just feel the steady beat of her heart at her pulse points. She looked at him with clear eyes, curiosity and more than a little heat shining through in her gaze.
It was now or never.
It was Cassian’s turn to push.
“Your turn, sweetheart.”