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sirendeepity · 2 months

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[ Nessynriel one-shot ]

A/N: Those ship names are getting out of control, but anyway. I DID IT! 2+2 IS OUT ON 22/2! *animalistic sounds* And yes, Olivia Rodrigo's sad songs worked like a charm because I didn't have any hiccups while writing this (I was in public and the poker face was poker face-ing).

Also, don't ask me anything because I know nothing.

T/W: -

W/C: 1.9k

Their friends often joked about how Gwyn was the “keeper of the brain cell” shared between her, Nesta, and Emerie, being the smarter of the three. But what they didn’t know was how little she actually used said brain cell. For instance, Gwyn had not used it when she had watched Nesta dip two fingers into the icing of the multi-layered cake in front of them and then brought those fingers to her lips, sticking out her tongue and smearing white frosting over it. That was sign number four that Nesta was on her way out of the tipsy zone. And so was Gwyn. That was the only reason why, she would later try to convince herself, Gwyn stood from her chair and reached over the table, grabbing Nesta by the neck, placing her fingers right under the female’s sharp jawline as she licked the cream right off her tongue. Howls and whistles rose around them, but Gwyn didn’t miss the way Nesta’s pupils expanded, leaving little of the blue-gray of her eyes. She just grinned and pretended the warmth pooling in her lower belly was just the alcohol playing tricks on her, and not how Nesta Archeron had tasted on her tongue. Because that wasn’t her, it was the vanilla cream of Helion’s lavish cake—nothing to worry about.

[ *** ]

Nesta was staring at the bottom of her empty glass. The fourth of the night.

She had made the terrible mistake of ordering a cherry-flavored drink on the third round and realized too late it tasted like the lipstick her tongue had accidentally grazed, so she had to order something stronger to wash away her aroma. And possibly her memory, too.

Nesta would give herself a few minutes before going for the next one, and maybe she would steal a couple of sips from Cassian’s drink while she was at it. She really, really needed it, Nesta reassured herself. Before she could even turn around to look for him, Cassian’s raspy voice came from beside her.

“Should I start wearing the same lipstick?”

Nesta wished there was still something left in the glass she held in her hands, if only to distract herself from the misery. “What?”

Cassian grinned at her. Gotcha, his eyes seemed to say. “The lipstick. Gwyn’s. Should I wear it too?”

“Why would you ever do that?”

“Because your panties are in a twist, literally, and not thanks to me,” he leaned closer, taking a sip from his own drink. He was well and truly gone, too. “Or maybe it was not the lipstick, was it, Nes?”

“Stop it,” Nesta said through gritted teeth. She was feeling both guilty and turned on as it was, she didn’t need Cassian’s help in making it worse.

The bastard just laughed, earning himself a glare.

“It’s okay, Nes,” he whispered against her ear. His hot breath sent a chill down her spine, and Nesta had to fight the shivers as he aligned himself behind her, hips pressing against the curve of her ass. “I can help you ease all this tension,” he went on, taunting her with his lips on her neck, close to her skin but not quite close enough. She wanted to close her eyes and let him take care of her needs, let him melt that knot in her spine with those expert fingers of his, but she knew she couldn’t, not with so many people still around them, partying and drinking and dancing. “Maybe Gwyn could help, too.”

And that was it. The push that sent her over the edge. There was no coming back as she slipped and fell down the rabbit hole.

[ *** ]

Gwyn could’ve kissed Azriel for that don’t-freak-out question. She did kiss him, actually, and then agreed to his proposition. Which was Cassian’s—well, it all came down to Nesta, but who cared about he said, she said.

And now here she was, standing in a dark bedroom while the party was still in full swing just a floor below. Not that it was a surprise—Helion’s parties tended to stretch on well into the night.

But Gwyn was not thinking about the party. Had stopped caring about any of that after she had kissed Nesta Archeron. She hadn’t, technically, so there was nothing to be obsessing over, right?

Wrong.

She loved her mate, could not imagine her life without him—didn’t want to—but oh, how sweet that sin had tasted. What a dream it had been. Gwyn hadn’t been able to get that scent of jasmine and lavender out of her nostrils for the rest of the night, despite the tang of spilled drinks and too many bodies permeating the air.

Now she breathed it in, welcomed it as it filled her lungs.

Nesta was standing in front of her—watching, waiting—, Cassian only a step behind, mirroring Azriel. Gwyn had the vague feeling the males were not new to any of this and had a tacit understanding of what the rules were, what they could do, and what they should not. Nesta seemed to be thinking the same, and that kicked her into motion.

Two steps and her palms pressed on both of Gwyn’s cheeks, pulling her body flush against hers as their lips met, parted, and then met again. Gwyn opened up to her, and her tongue swept in, tasting thoroughly.

She heard movement, and then the Illyrians were at their backs, caging them inside two sets of wings. From then it was only lips on tongues on skin. Cassian helped Nesta out of her dress, not wasting time and grabbing her full breasts in his hands. They fit perfectly against his palms. Nesta let out a soft moan, her head falling back and exposing her neck. Gwyn sized it, biting into her soft flesh as Azriel’s scarred hand found the slit of her skirt, sneaking between the fine layers of silk to cup her, his thumb pressing lightly on her clit. He growled against her shoulder as his fingers grazed her entrance above the drenched material of her panties. Gwyn’s dress was the next to go. Once both of them stood in nothing but their skin, Nesta pushed her backward until they reached the bed between a kiss and the next, leaving the males to undress.

Gwyn fell on the bed, red hair fanning the silky sheets, and let her gaze travel over Nesta’s naked body. She had always thought her friend to be beautiful, but just then she realized how maddening it was to see her with swollen lips and flushed skin and that desperate, wanting need in her eyes. Gwyn rose on her forearms, meeting Nesta halfway, but the female only pushed her back against the bed, straddling her.

Nesta’s lips hovered above the hollow of her neck, her collarbones, then traveled over her freckled chest, leaving a trail of kisses before closing around one nipple. Gwyn gasped at the warmth of her mouth, that swirling tongue of hers.

She opened her eyes when she felt the mattress dip, and saw Azriel, in all his naked glory, kneeling beside her, a fist wrapped around his erection. Gwyn placed a hand above his, pumping him in tandem with Nesta’s sucking on her nipples. Cassian was grinding against his mate, and Gwyn could see the tip of his cock pushing between Nesta’s raised ass. His large hand came down on it, the crisp sound of flesh against flesh filling the air as he slapped her ass once more.

“Fuck,” Nesta murmured against her tits.

Gwyn smirked. “We should do that,” she said as she turned her head and wrapped her lips around Azriel’s head. She licked over the slit, the salty taste of his precum filling her mouth. Azriel tilted his head back, and his satisfied groan was inviting enough that Gwyn took inch after blissful inch with every bob of her head, using her hand to cover what she couldn’t fit in her mouth. She gagged every time he hit the back of her throat, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes, but she wouldn’t stop—couldn’t stop—until he came. Because seeing the Shadowsinger lose control, and knowing she was the cause of his unraveling, made Gwyn feel untouchable. Her plan changed when Nesta adjusted above her, their limbs now tangled, and rolled her hips, rubbing their clits against one another.

[ *** ]

Nesta kept moving, working both Cassian behind her and Gwyn under her, the wet sliding of their cunts filling the room, along with whimpers and moans.

“Her pussy feels good, doesn’t it, Nes?” Cassian murmured against her neck, a battlefield of bruises and love bites. He kept kneading at her breasts, pinching and pulling her nipples to the point of pain. Nesta picked up her pace, echoing Gwyn’s quickening breaths. The priestess’ hand, now replacing her mouth, went up and down the Shadowinger’s length in fast movements, wrist twisting at the top.

“Don’t make her come,” Azriel ordered, a shadow wrapping around Gwyn’s neck.

Cassian gripped her hips, halting her, and Nesta grunted at the sudden stillness, the denial.

“I need to-”

“I said not yet.”

Nesta whimpered at the command, the dominance in Azriel’s voice. It also pissed her off. So she gripped one of Cassian’s wrists and guided his hand between hers and Gwyn’s bodies, placing it where she needed him most.

Cassian chuckled, biting her lobe, “Troublemaker.”

Still, he circled her clit once, twice, before slipping through her folds. Nesta cried out, barely able to catch her breath as Cassian’s thick fingers curled inside of her, filling her, stretching her. Nesta felt her release closer with every pump, but Cassian kept avoiding the spot he knew would push her over. She needed more, needed—

“What was that, Gwyn?”

“Please,” Gwyn might have been whimpering, might have been crying. “Please, Azriel, let me come.”

Nesta could only watch as a dark curl caressed her freckled cheek, grazed the corner of her lips, and Gwyn opened for him, sticking out her tongue.

“Such a good girl,” Azriel murmured, then spit in her mouth. “Now you can come.”

Cassian removed his hand from inside Nesta, pressing her down on Gwyn’s core, guiding her hips. After two strokes, Gwyn’s back arched off the bed, and Azriel watched his mate orgasm with rapt attention. On the third, Cassian covered Nesta’s mouth with his hand, cutting off her scream as Nesta came so hard she saw stars.

Grunts joined their heavy breaths soon after.

Nesta felt something warm and sticky slide down the small of her back. She only had to twist her head to the side to see the white-knuckled grip Cassian had around his cock, still twitching against her ass. Nesta pulled him in for a sloppy kiss, all teeth and tongue.

When she turned again, she saw Azriel pumping himself one last time, hissing. Gwyn, cheeks flushed red and a satisfied grin stretching her lips, basked on the feeling of his release coating her chest. The last thing she saw was the redhead wrap her arms around her mate’s neck as he claimed her lips, then Nesta closed her eyes and let herself enjoy the feeling of Cassian’s wandering hands.

His kisses were a balm for her senses. “I’ll take care of you.”

He knew, of course he knew, that as good as it had felt, it was not enough for Nesta. That she needed to be fucked raw and then some more, until her tears soaked the pillows and his seeds soaked her.

Nesta chuckled despite the throbbing between her legs, asking for attention once more. “I know.”

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