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kingofsummer93 · 10 months

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Plant a Jasmine in the Night

Summary:

On her first ever assignment as Night Court emissary to the human lands, Elain stumbles onto something she shouldn't have seen.

What was meant to be her chance to have a taste of freedom might just end up pushing her towards the one person she's been avoiding all along.

Rating: E

Read it on Ao3

Inspired by an @sjmkinkmeme prompt. Elain's dream was inspired by this gorgeous comic by @artcraawl.

The dream started as it always did. It was night, and Elain was in her garden at the River House. The air was fragrant with late summer blooms, and something else- something that she couldn’t place at first, but that tugged at her heartstrings like a distant, fond memory.

A crisp wind sent goosebumps erupting along her skin. She rubbed her arms, teeth chattering with cold. The next moment a warm wind encircled her, a bubble of warmth wrapping itself around her like a cocoon. That distant scent became stronger- woodsmoke, crisp apples, and something else. Something like the scent of sun-warmed skin, musky and so inherently male that a small whine escaped her lips as she filled her lungs with it.

Elain closed her eyes and sighed. It was so pleasant, the warmth and that mouth-watering scent, that she could have stood there forever. She was aware of a presence behind her, but she didn’t mind. Not even as a familiar noise interrupted the silence around her- a steady, unfaltering thump, calling to her like a port in a storm.

It grew louder as he came closer, that golden thread of light coiling tight in her chest, buzzing in response to his closeness. His arms wrapped around her, those large hands settling on her stomach, and then his lips were near her ear, tickling her skin. Elain tipped her head back against his chest, melting into the solid warmth of him.

“I’ve missed you.”

Elain woke with a gasp. For a moment the scent and warmth lingered around her, and she clung to it even as it slipped away from her like sand through her fingers. And then it was gone.

She hadn’t had the dream in a long time. It was usually triggered by Lucien’s presence, and she hadn’t seen him in months. Not since Nesta and Cassian’s mating ceremony, where he’d avoided her like the plague.

The memory of that night made her burn with fresh embarrassment. He was always impeccably dressed, but he had looked particularly handsome that night, in a white shirt and emerald green vest trimmed with gold embroidery. His long hair had been unbound, with two little braids snaking around his ears, revealing their elegant, pointed tips. She had thought that perhaps Lucien might ask her to dance- and that even if they went back to their usual rhythm of avoidance, she might at least have that memory to cherish in secret.

Instead, she had looked on with growing jealousy as he asked every other female in attendance to dance, except for her. She could hardly blame him- no doubt he had expected her to say no, and had wanted to avoid a particularly public rejection. Still, it had felt like a rejection of its own.

I don’t want it, Graysen had told her, after she had offered him her heart.

Mistake, Azriel had told her, after she had offered him a kiss- and perhaps more, if he had wanted it.

And then silence and avoidance from her mate- her cauldron-blessed soul mate, bound to her forever. Whom she couldn’t even escape from in her dreams.

Lucien wasn’t even supposed to be here tonight. It was partly why she accepted the job in the first place. With her mate permanently stationed in the Spring Court to keep an eye on the situation with the Autumn Court border, he had less time on his hands to act as Night Court emissary to the human lands. Elain had volunteered for the job, eager to finally do something.

Feyre had been hesitant, at first, and more than a little surprised, but Elain had stood her ground. What was the point of all the freedom that her new life as fae offered her, if all she did with it was tend to her garden and help cook meals for her family? She was familiar with court politics of the human lands, and knew how to act around their nobility. The social season was a kind of court warfare of its own, after all. And besides, with Lucien spending most of time in Spring, she wouldn’t need to worry about running into him.

Or so she had thought, until she had done precisely that.

She had breathed a sigh of relief upon her arrival when it had become apparent that her mate was not around. Vassa had been cheerful and kind, and Jurian, though Elain was still uncertain how she felt about the man, had been polite, if a bit sarcastic. Given the fact that Vassa was only in her human form after sundown, the pair had graciously offered to host her for the night, and Elain had agreed. She’d even started to enjoy herself by the time they sat down for a late dinner, her nerves put at ease by Vassa’s relaxed irreverence, and Jurian’s witty remarks.

Until he had waltzed in, looking casually handsome in a breezy white linen shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest. Elain had cursed herself for not noticing his arrival. Maybe her senses were somewhat dulled by the lack of magic in the air. The way he had frozen upon seeing her had been so comical that Elain would have laughed, if she hadn’t been so mortified.

After a painfully awkward dinner, during which she had studiously avoided his gaze, she had politely declined Vassa’s offer of a game of cards, and had retreated to her guest room like a scared mouse.

It was too much, seeing him like this, relaxed and joking with his friends. The only person he ever acted with this way was Feyre, and occasionally Varien and Cassian. It made him more real, somehow, and less like a vague, occasional visitor that she could pretend didn’t exist. She didn’t need any opportunity to start seeing him as someone that she might like. That was a dangerous road- one, she was keenly aware, that only ever led to being hurt.

If only she had the power to winnow, she might have written a note to Jurian and Vassa, thanking them for their hospitality, and disappeared into the night. But she couldn’t, which meant she was stuck here, under the same roof as him, until morning.

And now she couldn’t sleep.

Elain kicked off the covers in frustration. There was no use trying to go back to sleep now, not with the memory of that dream still rattling her nerves. She had once asked Madja for a sleeping tonic, thinking it would help, but she had learned the painful way that though the tonics indeed helped her sleep, they did not keep the dreams at bay.

She wrapped a robe around herself, thinking she’d slip down to the kitchens for a cup of tea. Perhaps with a splash of whiskey in it, if she could find some. Maybe then she’d be able to sleep.

She hesitated a moment before opening her door before checking the small clock on the bedside table. It was well past midnight- surely everyone was asleep by now? Lucien’s heart was a steady, even beat, a mockery of her own jangled nerves. Surely asleep, then.

The upstairs landing was quiet and dark, a single oil lamp at the top of the stairs confirming that her path was clear. The sight of that oil lamp was jarring, somehow. She’d grown so used to the sight of fae light that she had almost forgotten it didn't exist here.

The thick carpet absorbed the sound of her footsteps as she crept down the hall and towards the stairs. Maybe being back in the human lands was messing with her, she told herself. Maybe that was why she couldn’t sleep. Even the food at dinner had tasted wrong, though it had looked and smelled delicious. The fish, glazed and flaking under her fork, had tasted like the bottom of a river, and the wine, though she recognized the vintage as being a fine one, had burned all the way down her throat like a mouthful of vinegar.

Perhaps that was the problem. Not the dream, or him, but being here. The wrongness of being here only highlighted how used she had gotten to her new world, to the strangeness that now felt normal. Something about that made her feel sad.

She had almost reached the bottom of the stairs when a light from the foyer snapped her out of her reverie. The door to the sitting room was halfway closed, even though it had been thrown wide open during the evening. Maybe the others were still playing cards, and hadn’t wanted to disturb her sleep.

Elain hesitated. There would be no hope of sleeping if she went back upstairs now. The best she could hope for was a sleepless night spent tossing and turning. She’d simply have to sneak past the door and hope Lucien wasn’t there to sense her presence- or that he’d ignore her if he was.

She took another step, moving as quietly as she could- and then a noise made her freeze, her foot hovering over the stairs. A soft gasp, throaty and definitely feminine. Elain gripped the banister, holding her breath. Her heartbeat was so loud in her own ears that she was once again grateful that Lucien couldn’t hear it.

Had she imagined it? Maybe it was her mind playing tricks on her after that blasted dream…

Another noise drifted from the sitting room, one that she had definitely not imagined. A high-pitched whine, but muffled, as if whoever was emitting those sounds was trying hard to be quiet.

Elain might have been inexperienced, at least by fae standards, by she wasn’t clueless. Her face grew hot as she deduced what exactly was going on in the sitting room.

She wanted nothing more than to turn on her heels and bolt back up the stairs, but she was rooted to the spot. Lucien’s easy manner with Vassa at dinner flashed through her mind on a loop. White-hot jealousy hit her like a brick, so overpowering that it almost took her breath away. Surely…surely he wouldn’t, not while she was staying with them? Surely…

But then again, she reminded herself, that hadn’t bothered her on Solstice. Why should he hold himself to higher standards?

Her hand clenched tighter on the banister. An inexplicable mix of emotions was coursing through her veins, making her feel as though she was a second away from bursting out of her skin. She couldn’t move- her feet somehow didn’t belong to her anymore, and she could no more control them than she could alter the weather.

Elain had just managed to lift one foot from the stairs when Vassa moaned. Not a quiet whine or gasp like before, but a deep, low, dragged-out moan. The restraint was gone, as if she simply couldn’t hold herself back any longer.

That single moan was so erotic, so uninhibited, so unabashedly joyful that Elain froze again. Heat pooled low in her stomach as she felt herself flush even deeper.

This was wrong. It was wrong on so many levels, but still she couldn’t move. She just wanted to hear it one more time.

There was a low rumble of laughter, wicked and decidedly male, followed by the unmistakable sound of a slap. A gasp (delighted, by the sounds of it) and then more wicked laughter.

Elain tasted copper in her mouth, and she winced as she realized she’d been biting her lip so hard she had drawn blood.

“Yes,” Vassa gasped “yes, yes!”

Elain’s skin felt too tight, too restricting for the heat flowing through her veins. She felt like her blood had been set to boil, and soon she’d either melt or burst into flames, right here on the stairs.

Move, she urged her feet. Do something.

She took another step down, and then another, and it wasn’t until her feet hit the landing that she realized she had walked down the stairs instead of up. Vassa’s moans were quickening, her gasps becoming edged with desperation. What could Lucien be doing to her, she wondered, to elicit such sounds from her?

Her stomach clenched with a strange mix of jealousy and want. Lucien was meant to want her. Not Vassa. She had thought he did, at least in whatever primal, physical way the bond urged him to. But could she really blame him for seeking a willing companion, when all she ever did was reject him?

A new and horrible thought occurred to her. What if they were in love? Physical pleasure, she could understand, but being cast aside once again so thoroughly…

“Jurian! Yes, oh Gods…”

Jurian. Not Lucien. The relief she felt was nothing short of a tidal wave. And yet- why was it that she was somehow disappointed, to know that it hadn’t been her mate who made such wanton sounds come out of another female?

She was just curious, she told herself, even as she edged closer to the door to the sitting room. It was perfectly normal to be curious about these things, especially when her own experience was so limited…

A flash of movement caught her gaze. There was a large gilded mirror on the wall of the foyer, and from this angle she could perfectly see the reflection of the sitting room- and its occupants. Elain had to bite her lip to keep herself from gasping.

Vassa was kneeling on the ground, her thighs on either side of Jurian’s head as she rocked on his face with wild abandon. She was wearing nothing but a thin silky shift that had been yanked down to expose full, luscious breasts that bounced with every rock or her hips.

A rush of heat zapped through her, the faint ache between her legs growing to a thrumming pulse. She couldn’t look away as Vassa cried out, her body seizing uncontrollably from her pleasure.

Sex with Graysen hadn’t been anything like that. Elain had enjoyed the closeness, and the intimacy, but the act itself had been mostly uncomfortable and she’d been much too nervous to feel any pleasure.

This sort of pure physical lust, the pursuit of pleasure for the sake of it, fascinated her. She wanted to see what they would do next. The scent of their combined arousal was heavy in the air, salty and musky. She was glad neither of them had fae senses, or they’d surely be able to scent her own. It was wrong- she was a voyeur at best and a pervert at worst, but they didn’t have to know.

But then Vassa’s eyes snapped open, and caught her gaze.

Elain inhaled sharply, and then stopped breathing altogether. She was frozen, a marble statue with nothing but a thundering, racing heartbeat to betray her.

Move, she urged her traitorous feet. Make some excuse and run. She’d never more wished that she had the ability to winnow than at that moment.

She opened her mouth–to say what, precisely, she had no idea–but no sound came out.

If it had been her getting caught like this she would have yelped, and stumbled to cover herself, but Vassa did no such thing. Her arresting blue eyes widened in surprise for the briefest of moments, and Elain prepared to launch herself into a tirade of apologies and excuses.

But Vassa only grinned, and then she lifted a finger and beckoned to Elain. Something about the gesture jolted her out of her frozen stupor.

“Sorry!” she squeaked, whirling around so her back was to the sitting room. “Sorry, gods, I didn’t mean to-“

A low laugh, some whispered words, and then wicked, delighted chuckles. Elain bolted for the stairs.

“Wait!”

The voice was male, and laced with enough authority that Elain halted with her foot on the bottom stair. Oh gods this was mortifying, they’d tell Lucien about it and he would tell everyone and she’d never live it down…

“Where are you running off to?”

The voice behind her was Vassa’s, accompanied by the soft patter of bare feet. Elain didn’t dare turn around.

“Sorry!” she said again. “I didn’t mean, I was just going to the kitchen for tea and-“

Vassa tsked. “Poor thing, can’t sleep? We could help with that.”

Elain peered over her shoulder in surprise, and immediately blushed as her eyes landed on Vassa’s bare breasts. The woman seemed completely unperturbed by her nudity.

“What?”

“How long were you watching us?”

“I wasn’t- I didn't mean to-“

“I like to watch too,” Vassa whispered. She stepped closer, until her peaked nipples pressed against the thin fabric of Elain’s robe. “I could watch while you have a turn with Jurian. He knows how to use that tongue for more than mouthing off.”

Elain flushed with a strange combination of mortification and heat. An image flitted through her mind for just a moment- her nightgown ruched up to her waist, fingers gripping her tightly by the hips as she moved. Except it wasn’t Jurian beneath her, but someone with long, silky red hair, and two-toned eyes that shone with fire and mischief.

“Oh! Um.” She had to get out of here. There was no way she’d ever be ever to continue her role as emissary, that was abundantly clear. “That’s, um-”

She went to take a step but froze as Vassa’s fingers landed at the nape of her neck, brushing her hair aside. Her fingers felt deliciously cool and yet sinful against her heated skin.

“Or we could have him watch us. He’d love that.”

A low chuckle from just inside the sitting room. “Indeed.”

What was she doing? “No thank you!”

She didn’t turn around again before sprinting up the stairs, half expecting Vassa to chase after her. When she reached the top landing she pressed her forehead against the wall, letting her racing heart slow down. With her fae hearing she could hear the muffled sounds of quiet laughter from downstairs, but thankfully no footsteps on the stairs.

Elain couldn’t decide what was more mortifying- that she had been caught, or that she had enjoyed watching. There was no way she’d be able to face either of them ever again. She’d just lock herself in her room and wait for Rhysand to come bring her home in the morning, and that would be that. So much for taking advantage of her freedom.

Her pulse slowed enough that her blood was no longer pounding in her ears, and that’s when she heard it. Another heartbeat, one that did not belong to her, reminding her of who else was currently in this manor. What had she been doing? She’d never be able to face him now, either.

She turned towards her room, and stopped short as she realized she wasn’t alone. There he was, leaning against the open doorway to his room. Her mate.

He was wearing nothing but low slung pants that looked to have been hauled on carelessly. His hair was unbound, dripping over his shoulder like a river of dripping embers. Elain’s gaze caught on the expanse of muscled chest and rippled abs on display, down to the carved hip muscles and the trail of auburn hair that led into his waistband.

She felt herself blush, but caught herself before her eyes could trail further south, snapping her gaze back up to his face- and to the positively devilish grin on his face.

“Everything all right?” he asked, eyebrows lifting in feigned ignorance. That gesture told her everything she needed to know about what he had overheard.

“Fine,” she replied, too quickly, too breathlessly. She cleared her throat. “Just…I couldn’t sleep, so I went down to get some tea, and-“

“And you walked in on Jurian and Vassa fucking?”

Elain winced at the crude language, but mostly at the fact that she had. As if to emphasize the fact, a loud groan sounded from downstairs.

“Don’t they know that doors close?” She had been aiming to sound stern and annoyed, but it fell more than a bit short.

Lucien’s grin widened. He took a slow, almost feline step towards her. Elain instinctively backed away from him, but there was nowhere to go.

“They like having people watch.”

“So Vassa said.”

She wanted nothing more than to end this mortifying conversation and lock herself in her room, but Lucien was barring her path.

“Are you well, my lady?” Lucien continued, taking another step towards her. He was close enough now that she could see as his nostrils flared slightly, his russet eye growing dark as he registered her scent. “You look flushed.”

Damn him. Damn the fae and their senses, and damn the humans downstairs–definitely still entangled, by the sounds of it–and damn him most of all, and-

“I’m not your lady,” she snapped. The words shocked her even as they came out of her mouth.

Lucien blinked in surprise, and then his shock slowly melted into a delighted smirk.

“Maybe not. But you are my mate.” Elain shivered at the word, and then gritted her teeth as she saw Lucien track the motion. “Can’t fault me for wondering why you’re looking so feverish when you were perfectly healthy earlier.”

His grin was so smug that she felt like clawing it off his face. He knew. He knew and he found it hilarious.

“I’m just…a little warm, that’s all.”

She was struggling to look anywhere but his face. It was proving to be more and more difficult as he prowled so close to her that she was finally forced to crane her neck to look up at him.

Immediately she wished she hadn’t. The low light of the torch burning at the top of the stairs cast the sharp panes of his face in stark relief, his long hair practically alive with flame where it flowed over his shoulders. She could feel the heat emanating from his bare skin, and it was an effort not to reach out and touch it, to see if she could feel the flame that everyone said ran through his veins. Elain would have melted in embarrassment at the impropriety of it all, if she hadn’t been so desperately attracted to him.

Mate, she reminded herself. He’s your mate that you don’t want, don’t need, didn’t ask for-

His gaze dipped, slowly trailing down her body until it snagged on her bare legs. He swallowed thickly, his fingers clenching and unclenching at his sides as if he longed to touch her but didn’t dare.

Elain wished he would. The thought was at once shocking and yet blatantly obvious. Maybe just this once, to satisfy a curiosity that was clearly two sided. And then they could go back to avoiding each other. She’d never be able to face him after tonight, anyway.

“Pity,” he murmured. “Here I thought you liked what you saw.”

Her breathing quickened as he slowly reached out and ran the silken belt of her robe between his long fingers. There was something sensual in the gesture that made her stomach clench in anticipation.

“Maybe I did.”

A sharp tug, and the knot holding her robe closed fell apart like a wisp of smoke. Lucien’s eyes dipped again, and when they slowly dragged back up to her face a flame had kindled to life in his russet eye. An actual, dancing flame, as real as the flame fueling the lamp on the wall. Her breath hitched at the sight of it.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, grinning so wickedly that she knew he was well aware of what he’d done. “Afraid of a little flame?”

Elain backed away another step, until her back hit the wall. “I’m not afraid of you,” she snapped.

She wasn’t, but this- this game they were playing, whatever it was, it scared her as much as it aroused her. The temptation to run away was as strong as the desire to touch him, smell him, kiss him. To mark him as hers.

He stepped closer until he was hovering over her, one arm braced above her head, the other still innocently hanging at his side. She wanted him to actually do something, if only so she would be forced to decide what to do about it.

“Good.” He dipped his head towards her neck, until his breath tickled her skin. It was so like her dream that she had to dig her nails into her palm to remind herself this was real. “Did they ask you to join them?”

Elain almost choked. She was blushing so aggressively that she felt a bead of sweat run down her back, but she couldn’t bring herself to speak. Judging from Lucien’s delighted grin the answer must have been written all over her face.

“Why didn’t you?” he asked, as casually as if they were talking about the weather.

She did choke this time, on a combination of half-hearted affront and shock. “Wh-what?” As if she hadn’t entertained the idea, at least for a moment. As if she couldn’t still feel Vassa’s cool touch on the heated nape of her neck.

“They like that too,” he continued, unperturbed. “They asked me to join, once.”

That shouldn’t have surprised her, and yet it did. She blamed her conservative upbringing, but somehow the idea of a threesome between two men and one woman seemed even more debauched.

She forced herself to breathe, to relax. “And did you?” she asked, lifting her chin brazenly.

She wasn’t sure what sorts of mechanics that would even involve, but her imagination ran away from her, filling her mind with all sorts of lurid thoughts. Jurian’s large calloused hands caressing Lucien’s golden skin, Vassa’s full breasts bouncing as she-

“Yes,” he replied simply.

Elain’s mouth dropped open at the admission. She wished she hadn’t asked, and yet she desperately wanted to know more, even as jealousy tore through her, so violently that her blood roared in her ears. She might have been trembling, from want or from anger, she wasn’t sure.

“Oh,” was all she managed to say.

Lucien laughed. She wasn’t sure whether it was at her expense or not, but it made her burn all the same. Was this who he really was, beneath the veneer of manners and careful, hesitant longing he usually put up around her?

“Tell me,” he continued. “What were they doing?”

Elain gulped, remembering Vassa’s bouncing breasts as she gyrated on Jurian’s face. A rush of heat settled like a weight between her legs. A small noise came out of Lucien, as he no doubt scented her every emotion. His own scent was so strong with him this close to her that she was having trouble thinking logically. It was so heady and warm, tinged salty from what she knew was his own arousal.

“Nothing I care to say out loud,” she said as primly as she could.

Lucien laughed. “Right. I forgot you were so uptight.”

“I am not-“

“I forgot, you see, seeing as you’re standing here with your panties soaked.”

Elain sputtered indignantly, her cheeks growing even more hot than they already were. “How dare you, I am not…” It seemed to be the only words she was capable of saying.

“You’re not?” Lucien asked, tilting his head as if they were making simple conversation. “So if I reached between your legs I wouldn’t be able to prove that you’re a little liar?”

Elain pressed her legs together, but in reality it was more to feel some kind of friction than in shock at his words.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Is that an invitation?” When he spoke his lips grazed against her ear, and Elain shivered. She clamped her lips shut, curious what he would do next. This side of him was thrilling, and intoxicating. She felt drunk on the novelty of what giving in to the pull of the bond would entail. It didn’t have to mean anything. The fae didn’t have any qualms about these things, after all, as Nesta loved to remind her.

Slowly, so slowly, Lucien’s fingers inched towards her leg. His touch was feather-light, and yet she felt it like a brand on her skin. He grazed his fingers up her thigh, pushing the hem of her nightgown up along the way. His heart rate was quickening along with her own, an echo of her raging pulse.

He paused then, as if giving her a chance to say no. And then his fingers dipped between her legs, right over the–as he had assumed, soaked–fabric of her underwear. Elain gasped, both in surprise that he had actually done it and at the current of heat that small touch sent fizzing through her veins.

Lucien groaned weakly, as if that touch had shocked him just as much as her. “Thought so.”

He started rubbing slow, tight circles through the wet silk of her underwear, and Elain’s knees nearly buckled.

“Tell me what you saw,” he murmured.

For a moment she didn’t remember what he was talking about, too focused on the fingers rubbing at the ache between her legs. It hadn’t been like this with Graysen. They had kissed, and he had fondled her breasts a bit, but he had certainly not touched her like this. She could only imagine what else Lucien could do, if this was how he made her feel with her underwear still on.

But then he pulled his fingers away, and Elain nearly whined in protest. “What are you-“

“Tell me,” he urged. “And you’ll get a reward.”

She wanted him to keep touching her. She needed him to keep touching her, or she’d combust.

“Vassa was…” She didn’t quite have the vocabulary for what she’d seen. Of course she knew the mechanics but Graysen certainly hadn’t done it. The men in Nesta’s smutty books always did, though, and claimed to enjoy doing it. She wondered if Lucien would.

“Yes?”

“She was…sitting on Jurian’s face.” That seemed the only way to describe it, but her face heated all the same as she said it.

Lucien chuckled so low and deep that Elain had to bite her lip to keep a sound from escaping her throat. “Is that so? Lucky him.”

Elain felt a hot pang of absurd jealousy at that. For a moment the memory shifted, and it was Lucien’s hands gripping Vassa’s thighs, his long hair spread out beneath him as he lay on his back.

Mine, that ancient, primal thing roared in her chest. He is mine, and I am his.

Lucien’s mouth dropped to her neck as he left a series of soft, warm kisses up her throat. “I told you good girls get rewards. Tell me what you want.”

Elain squirmed, or as much as she could do so standing up. She wasn’t quite sure what she wanted, other than for him to keep touching her, keep talking to her. Keep calling her a good girl.

She wanted him to kiss her until she lost herself, but for some reason she thought she might have to earn that particular privilege first.

One of his hands trailed down her neck, knuckles first, and then lower still, over her peaked nipple. Elain arched into the touch. This, she wanted to say. This and so much more.

A hard pinch on her nipple made her gasp.

“Tell me what you want,” Lucien repeated. His hand drifted to her neck, tilting it up so she was forced to look into his blazing gaze. It felt dangerous, like if she looked too long she might burn. “Or I can leave you alone with only your fingers for company.”

Elain wanted to growl in frustration. “I’d like to slap that cocky grin off your face, for starters.”

Again Lucien’s eyes flashed in surprise, and then melted into delight. “Much better.”

“Excuse me?”

“This is much better than that meek mouse act you usually put on around me.”

Her hand moved so fast that the sound of flesh hitting flesh rang out before she even consciously made the decision to slap him. His skin smarted immediately, into a vulgar imitation of a blush.

The world seemed to slow down as Elain held her breath. She’d never hit anyone before, much less a grown male, save for maybe some half-hearted shoves with her sisters when they were little. The act itself shocked her less than the thrill it gave her.

Lucien’s eyes flashed. Do that again, they seemed to taunt her. Elain raised her other hand, but before she could so much as lift it Lucien had grabbed both her wrists and pinned them above her head.

“I think you’ve forgotten who’s in control here,” he growled. The breathlessness of his voice betrayed the lack of threat behind his words. Elain knew in her bones that one word from her and Lucien would stop.

She desperately didn’t want him to.

His lips were still curved into a maddening smirk. They were so full and lush, made for whispering secret words, for flashing devilish smirks, for stolen kisses in dark hallways in the middle of the night.

“Kiss me,” she breathed. “That’s what I want.”

Lucien didn’t wait for further prompting. He crashed his mouth to hers, and as their lips met it was like a damn breaking after years of strain. There was no finesse to his kiss, no gentle touches. He kissed her like a drowning man drinking in his final breath, like there would never be enough of her to fill his lungs. It was all lips and teeth and tongue, not a slow exploration but a claiming, as if nothing else existed but this moment and everything depended on it. Lucien released her hands and she tangled them in his hair, pulling him down even closer.

He kissed her until her legs threatened to give out. She felt drunk on him, on this.

And then a loud moan echoed up the stairs from the sitting room, and Lucien laughed against her mouth. Elain had been so lost in him she’d almost forgotten about them.

“What do you think they’re doing?” he murmured.

She knew the drill by now. An answer for a reward. She saw it reflected in Lucien’s gaze, the gleam there like a challenge and a question at once.

Another moan, male this time, followed by the unmistakable sound of skin hitting skin.

“They’re probably…” She trailed off, embarrassed, even now, to say the word. Making love didn’t seem right for what she’d seen, and what she was hearing. “Fucking.”

“You’re learning,” Lucien whispered. “What a good student you are.”

He pressed his hips against her, and Elain inhaled sharply at the hardness pressed against her stomach. She couldn't help but glance down, and the sight of the bulge straining the front of his trousers made her mouth go dry. The room had been dark when she had lost her maidenhead to Graysen, and besides, she had been much too nervous to really look. But she wanted to look at Lucien- look, and touch, and lick every inch of him.

“You’ll have to earn that,” he said, as if reading her mind.

“I answered your question. That means I get a reward.” She hoped her voice sounded less desperate than she felt.

The grin he shot her was nothing short of devilish. “Indeed. Tell me.”

She felt absurd saying it, as if one wrong word and Lucien would laugh and declare that this had all been a game. A tease. A joke.

A mistake.

“Touch me,” she demanded, with as much authority as she could muster.

Lucien groaned, his hips thrusting into her as if he couldn’t help it. She was beginning to think that he might like it when she was irritated.

Another moan trickled up the stairs, and it occurred to Elain how thoroughly exposed they were. Jurian and Vassa could walk up the stairs at any time- although, from the sounds of it, that didn’t seem likely.

Any thoughts of getting caught disappeared from her mind as Lucien’s hand drifted back to her thigh, inching up much slower than she would have liked. When he reached the waistband of her underwear she held her breath, expecting him to slide them down. Instead, his fingers kept going up, over her stomach, up her ribs, until her breast was cradled in his palm.

“Like this?” he asked, squeezing softly. He tweaked her nipple between two fingers and Elain sucked in a breath at the mixture of pleasure and pain.

“Yes,” she said, though it wasn’t enough.

“Yes,” Vassa echoed from downstairs, her moans quickly dissolving into screams.

“She’s a loud one,” Lucien needlessly informed her as he switched his ministrations to her other breast.

Elain wondered how much of it was real and how much was an act. It seemed almost impossible for it to be a genuine reaction. “Why?” The question was out of her mouth before she could stop it. She clamped her mouth shut, feeling idiotic.

Lucien grinned broadly. The gesture made his cheeks crinkle and somehow made him even more handsome. He was so beautiful when he smiled it was almost painful to look at. It made that golden coil tighten even more inside her chest, flooding her with longing and an almost melancholy want for something she had never had, and perhaps never would. She almost wished he would stop.

“Because Jurian knows how to fuck.” He kept his eyes fixed on hers as he said it, as though he expected her to be shocked by his language.

“You seem to have a lot of knowledge on that topic.”

“On what?” he teased. “Jurian? Or fucking?”

He was messing with her. Elain huffed in frustration, but before she could say anything he cut her off.

“Touch yourself.”

She blinked up at him, her pulse increasing. “I answered one of your questions,” he continued with a wicked grin, “now I get a reward.”

Elain squirmed. For some reason she couldn’t explain, touching herself in front of him was so much more embarrassing than letting him touch her.

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, little mouse.”

“Don’t call me that!” she snapped.

She was starting to take back what she’d thought about liking this side of him. He was insufferable. Insufferable and cocky and-

“Then prove that’s not what you are. Unless you don’t want to keep playing…” He started backing away from her, and panic made her heart skip a beat. She’d never be able to look him in the eyes after this, so she’d be damned if she didn’t get him to at least touch her before he ran away and disposed of her.

Elain made sure his eyes were locked on hers as she shoved her hand into her underwear. She was so aroused that her fingers glided easily through her slick folds, and a sigh escaped her lips. Lucien’s gaze turned almost predatory.

In a movement too quick for her to follow he yanked her hand out of her underwear and stuck her fingers coated in her arousal into his mouth. The flame in his russet eye intensified, and Elain found she couldn’t quite breathe.

A low groan rumbled deep in his throat. “Gods, Elain.”

He dropped to his knees in front of her as he said it, making her name sound like a plea, or worship.

Elain kept her gaze locked on his as his hands slid up her legs, leaving her skin burning in their wake. When he reached her underwear he locked his fingers around the waistband and then stopped. She wriggled her hips slightly, thinking he was waiting for permission, but still he didn’t move.

“What position do you think they’re in?”

The noises from downstairs were growing louder, the moans breathier, the wet sound of skin against skin echoing sharply in the quiet. Several scenarios flashed through Elain’s mind, but it was difficult to think clearly with Lucien’s mouth so close to her throbbing center. Her knowledge was once again lacking for the question he was asking, but judging from the way Lucien’s fingers were shaking slightly she had a feeling any answer would have been acceptable.

“They were on the floor earlier,” she said lamely, trying to think of something clever to say.

Lucien dragged her underwear down an inch. “Oh?” he prompted.

Elain remembered the ugly pink couch she’d been shown to when she had arrived earlier. A giggle threatened to escape her, despite Lucien kneeling before her and her racing pulse.

“I think she’s on that ugly pink couch,” she said, as confidently as she could.

Her underwear slid down her legs in a cool brush of silk. Elain gulped as Lucien’s eyes snagged in between her legs. The urge to snap her legs shut was almost overwhelming, but then he looked up at her and licked his lips. Her core went molten.

“Tell me more,” he urged, gently pressing her legs apart.

“Um.”

Lucien pressed a kiss to the inside of her thigh, his gaze never leaving hers. Her knees were shaking with a mixture of overwhelming lust and nervous anticipation, and if it wasn’t for Lucien’s hands on her she might have slid to the floor.

Lucien kissed her other leg, higher this time. If he went any higher he would surely feel the evidence of her arousal, no doubt dripping down her leg. Elain couldn’t remember ever feeling anything even close to this. Lucien’s teeth grazed the soft skin of her thigh, reminding her that she still hadn’t answered him.

“I think she’s kneeling on the couch, holding on the back. And Jurian’s…”

She didn’t have time to finish before Lucien leaned forward and licked a single stripe clean up her center. Elain gasped at the sensation, all other thoughts melting out of her head along with any lingering hesitation.

“Good girl,” Lucien murmured, and then his mouth was on her again.

She didn’t have anything to compare it to, but it was clear Lucien knew exactly what he was doing. He attacked her with his mouth the same way he had kissed her earlier- hungrily, savagely, like there was no time for finesse. She had expected it to feel wet but somehow every broad lick of his tongue felt like a wave of fire spreading through her.

Every cell in her body felt alive, like she was seconds away from bursting. Nothing had ever felt this good, and she didn’t care who heard the wanton noises coming out of her, as long as he never stopped.

He drew her clit between his lips and sucked, and Elain’s knees buckled. Lucien laughed against her, the vibration ripping a low groan from her throat. He hooked one of her legs over his shoulder and she gasped at the new angle. Pleasure was coiling tight in her belly, so hot and fast that she thought it might tear her apart.

“Lucien…” It was her turn to say his name like a prayer- or in this case, a desperate plea to not stop.

“That’s right,” he growled. He reached up and kneaded her breast gently, and Elain’s head thumped back against the wall. Her fingers were gripping his hair so tightly she knew it must be painful, but if Lucien cared he certainly didn’t let on.

He slid a finger inside her, and then another, thrusting in and out slowly as he continued to devour her with his mouth. And then his fingers curled inside her, hitting a spot that had her gasping for breath.

“Lucien!” Do that again, is what she meant, but he knew without being told.

He thrust inside her again and again, his tongue keeping time with his fingers as they hit that spot that had her seeing stars. She was going to come undone right here in the hallway, and fought against it, not wanting it to be over.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his lips grazing her sensitive flesh. “Be a good girl and come for me.”

He clamped his mouth around her and sucked, and she let go. Pleasure tore through her in a hot wave, a ragged cry falling from her lips as her vision exploded in stars. Lucien didn’t let up, groaning against her as he licked and sucked her through her orgasm.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “Fuck, Elain.” He sounded as lost as she felt, like she was lost at sea and he was the raft keeping her alive.

Her legs were trembling so hard that she started sliding down the wall, but then Lucien’s arms were around her, hauling her to the floor as he stretched out on his back.

“Take that off,” he growled, pushing her nightgown up her body.

Elain slipped the offending garment over her head without a second thought. Lucien’s eyes burned her skin like a brand, melting away any embarrassment she might have felt at her nudity.

“Gods, Elain, you’re so…” He trailed off, his throat bobbing as he swallowed thickly.

Elain wanted to lean down and lick his throat, kiss every inch of it like he had hers. She wanted to leave little marks to physically mark him as hers.

Hers.

“Tell me,” Lucien urged. There was a note of urgency to his voice that made her feel wild. “Tell me what you want, and you can have it.”

One final question in their game, then. His hands drifted towards her breasts and she slid her fingers through his and held his hands there.

What did she want? She wasn’t sure what she would want tomorrow, but tonight-

“You.” Elain forced herself to meet his gaze. It was somehow easier to do so when he was being wicked than when he was soft like this. She wasn’t sure which side of him she liked more, but she suspected she might like all of him, which was more terrifying than anything that had happened tonight.

“I just…”

He didn’t tease her, didn’t prompt her. He just kept staring at her with that mismatched gaze, a soft flame still dancing in his russet eye. On impulse she reached forward and lightly traced his scar, all the way from his brow almost to his jaw. Lucien shivered, his eyes shutting tight as his forehead creased with some emotion she couldn’t read.

She wanted to be able to read it- to know him well enough that she could tell right away what he was thinking. But that would require her to open up just as much, and that was a cliff side she wasn’t ready to step off from. Not until she’d figured out how far she might fall.

Vassa and Jurian’s moans were reaching a final crescendo downstairs. Elain held Lucien’s gaze until their cries faded, resisting the urge to grind against his cock to relieve the ache still burning between her legs. She still felt desperate for him, even though her body was still tingling from the orgasm he’d given her.

“I want you to make me scream that loudly.”

Lucien smirked. “And here I thought you’d be more of a gentle love making type.”

Elain hummed. “I like that too.”

There must have been something written all over her face, or else Lucien was better at reading her than she was him. “But?” he asked.

“But it’s easier to get your heart broken that way.”

Lucien’s mouth fell open in surprise. Elain held her breath, bracing herself for a dismissal or a taunt. He’d say something lurid about fucking having nothing to do with hearts. Whatever seed of madness had started to grow inside her would be trampled, and her heart would be safe.

“Oh, Elain.” He loosed a breath, something about the wicked gleam in his eye making her squirm. “You have no idea how wrong you are about that.”

Before she could react he had stood up and hauled her to her feet in one swift motion. He spun her around, planting hot, wet kisses down her throat as he guided her towards the railing at the top of the stairs. She was putty in his hands, bending forward to lean on the banister as he nudged her legs apart.

There was a soft woosh of fabric as he kicked his pants off, and then his fingers were on her, swirling tight circles around her clit. Elain bit back her moan, thrusting back into his hand to increase the friction. Nothing he did was ever enough. It felt like her own blood was alive with the flame she’d seen dancing in his eye, and his every touch only made her burn hotter.

“Tell me you want me.”

His fingers suddenly stopped, replaced by the feel of his hard, thick cock teasing her entrance. Elain looked over her shoulder at him and nearly whined. Nobody had ever looked as beautiful as he did right then, with his golden skin glowing in the lamp light and his vibrant hair mussed from her ministrations.

“I want you.”

“Good girl.”

With that he slid into her with one long, slow thrust. Elain gasped at the feel of him stretching her, filling her so completely that it seemed their bodies had been made for this.

“Fuck, Elain.” He sounded on the edge of losing that maddening control of his. She wriggled her hips, urging him to move.

“Impatient, are you?”

Elain started to growl in frustration, but it turned into a ragged gasp as Lucien slowly pulled out and then slammed back in. She grabbed onto the banister tighter as he set a wicked pace, thrusting into her to the hilt only to pull out maddeningly slowly. Every pound of his cock inside her had her seeing stars, moans falling from her lips with every thrust.

“They’re probably listening, you know.”

Elain’s eyes fixed on the partially closed door to the sitting room, the occupants of which were suspiciously quiet. It should have bothered her, but she found she couldn’t quite care.

“Good thing I asked you to make me scream.”

Lucien groaned, bringing his hand to her ass in a hard slap. Elain gasped at the sting, and then moaned as Lucien started pounding into her.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asked, his voice ragged.

“Yes.”

“Louder.”

“YES!”

Her voice echoed embarrassingly loudly down the stairs, but Elain couldn’t have cared less. That delicious pressure was building inside her again, and she chased the feeling, dropping her forehead against her arms gripping the banister.

“Elain…”

From the strain in his voice she could tell he was on the verge of release himself. His fingers were gripping her hips so tightly she knew there’d be fingertip-shaped bruises there in the morning. She pictured Lucien kissing them gently, his hair mused from sleep, and eyes glazed with affection as he looked up at her.

That was all it took to push her over the edge.

She cried out as pleasure exploded through her again, her body seizing with wave after wave of ecstasy. A moment later Lucien gave a choked groan as he spilled himself inside her.

Her vision had barely returned to normal before he turned her around again and gathered her up in his arms. She was too exhausted and too thrilled at the feel of being in his arms to protest about where he was taking her.

He carried her to his room and kicked the door shut before gently placing her on the bed. His scent wrapped around her in a cloud, and she couldn't stop herself from pressing her nose to his pillow and inhaling deeply. Gods, it should be illegal to smell this good.

Lucien chuckled above her. Had she said that out loud? She supposed it wasn’t the most embarrassing admission she’d made tonight.

“Look at me.”

Elain turned back to face him as he hovered over her, bracing himself with one arm as he gently brushed loose tendrils of hair from her face. The gesture was so tender that it made her heart ache.

“Can you promise me something?” he asked.

Her eyes hadn’t adjusted to the darkness of his room, and she couldn’t make out the expression in his eyes. “That depends.”

“Promise you won’t just disappear in the morning.”

There was a raw edge to his voice that felt like a gut punch. Or else, like a gentle shove, edging her closer to that ledge she had so far managed to stay away from.

“It would be impressive if I did, considering I’m in your bed.”

Lucien chuckled. “Bold of you to assume you’re sleeping here tonight.”

“And here I thought you were the chivalrous type. But if you’d rather I go…” Elain made to roll out from under him, laughing darkly when he blocked her path.

“Not so fast.”

“Oh?”

“I have a few more questions for you, you see.”

Elain bit her lip as her blood started heating once more. She had a feeling that in the end she’d be getting very little sleep tonight, and found she didn’t mind at all.

Taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added/removed!): @areyoudreaminof @separatist-apologist @tuzna-pesma-snova @labellefleur-sauvage @corcracrow @autumndreaming7 @octobers-veryown @velidewrites @sunshinebingo @vulpes-fennec @asnowfern @hallway5

#elucien #elucien fanfic #elucien fanfiction #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #the band of exiles #boe #jassa #what happens at the boe manor stays at the boe manor

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achaotichuman · 2 months

Text

Ya'll remember the Dahlia fic I posted like three hours ago?

I hope you do because here is chapter 2

Link to part 1 is here.

@fell-in-luvs, @r-biter, @praetorqueenreyna

______________________________________________________________

A Field of Dahlias

When he awoke, someone was pressing a damp washcloth to his forehead. Slowly, he blinked open his eyes. Vision blurry and everything was sore.

Finally, he recognised the person above him as Alis. The female noticed him waking up and inhaled quickly before letting the washcloth rest on his head, taking his hands in hers.

She called over her shoulder, "Tell Lucien he's awake."

There was the sound of a book snapping shut as a person got up from the emerald chair in the corner of his room. Tamlin tried to lift his head to get a clue of who was sitting there, but he only managed a glimpse of pale robes before Alis pushed him back down.

"Where is Lucien?" Tamlin asked. His voice sore, barely above a whisper.

"Speaking with some courtiers, nothing to worry over." Her hands moved to hair and began to plait so as to keep her fingers busy.

"What happened?" He asked.

Alis still for a moment, then she said, "You're magic exploded, your study was the only thing affected."

"My magic exploded?" Tamlin asked, his voice even smaller.

"Yes."

"But..." I'm not supposed to use my magic, and for it to have exploded like that.

Oh no.

Oh god no.

At that moment Lucien walked in.

The red head was beside the bed in seconds. A hand went to Tamlin's shoulder, "Hey, you're up."

"Yeah." Tamlin replied.

"Still weak, but awake." Alis said, taking away the washcloth from his head and sliding off the bed.

"How are you feeling?" Lucien asked.

"Awful." Tamlin snapped.

Lucien gave him a soft smile that didn't reach his worried eyes, "Figures."

"Here." Alis said, and she helped him to slowly sit up.

The second he was upright, all the blood in his brain rushed out. Dizziness overtook and his face went frightfully pale.

Alis reacted faster than Lucien and grabbed a bucket beside the bed.

Tamlin vomited until he was dry heaving. Alis' rough hands pulled back his hair and Lucien immediately moved to rub his back. Tamlin however pushed him back.

When his body finally relented, Tamlin slumped back, breathing heavily and staring at the ceiling.

Alis took the mess away with a murmur that she would be back soon. Lucien nodded to her while Tamlin closed his eyes and tried to catch his breath.

When the door clicked shut, Lucien broke the silence, "Well this has been a hectic day."

"You think." Tamlin rasped.

"Yeah I do. And I think it has been made worse by the fact we have not addressed all that need addressing."

"Lucien-" Tamlin groaned.

"No, if you won't talk about it Tamlin, then I will. Like it or not, you are pregnant, it is Feyre's. Feyre is now the God's know where in Night with that monster-"

Feyre in that fabric that couldn't be called clothes. In Rhysand's grasp. Painted and being touched while drugged flashed through his mind.

"Feyre-!" Tamlin shot up and wen to rush out of bed.

Lucien grabbed and pulled him right back, "Enough, Tamlin!"

"But she-" Tamlin would bite him if he needed to.

"She is Night because of a bargain she made when she was warned not to."

"He coerced her into it." Tamlin seethed, he knew, Feyre had said when he quested the bargain mark. How Rhysand had twisted her arm when she initially refused it.

"I know." Lucien said, worry shining in his eyes, "But it is still bargain magic and until the week is up, we won't know where she is."

"If," Tamlin's voice was like thunder, "She is still there a second after the seventh day ends, I am storming the Night Court."

"I don't doubt it." Lucien murmured, "In the meantime, we have another issue."

Just like that, the fear writhed in him again, "My magic exploded-"

"Heilda gave you a check over whilst you slept. We got lucky."

Mother above, he nearly thanked the Gods.

"But-" Lucien said sternly.

Tamlin already knew what he was going to say.

"She doesn't just recommend female because its more comfortable, it's also safer Tamlin. So-"

"I know." Tamlin whispered.

Lucien's hand travelled along the soft sheets, then gently covered Tamlin's.

"This is shitty." Lucien said.

Tamlin huffed a laugh, "Yeah."

A heartbeat of silence passed and Lucien eventually asked, "Do you want to try shifting?"

Tamlin sighed, "Yeah."

"Okay do you need me to leave-?"

In a second his clothes were ever so slightly baggier around his waist. The fabric around his chest constricted and his jaw became just slightly less defined. Small changes, but enough to mark him as something else.

Thank Gods for him that he retained most of his muscles. Eyes, wider now, looked up to Lucien.

The Fox was blushing furiously and it made Tamlin bite his lip not to laugh.

"How- you-"

Tamlin shrugged, "I base it off what my body already looks like."

"Mhm." Lucien's cheeks were flushed a rosy red, "I didn't realise it was so easy."

Tamlin laughed, voice with a slightly higher pitch. Toned differently enough for anyone to notice a change, "It doesn't sound like it would be."

"No it doesn't." Lucien murmured, then he cleared his throat.

Tamlin picked at the buttons of his shirt, pulling too tight to be comfortable. Lucien noticed and quickly asked, "Do you want a different set of clothes."

Tamlin was still in the clothes he would have been married in. Jacket and waistcoat gone. But still in his trousers and white shirt. His heart throbbed.

"Yeah."

Lucien nodded but before he could leave the bed, there was a rapping against the door.

"Come in!" Tamlin called out.

"Just as I thought." A female said as she opened the door, "Different voice means you've already shifted?"

Ianthe peeked through the crack in the door, not stepping through the threshold. One of her vows of purity. To not step under the roof of a room with only a male.

She looked him up and down, "I was correct then."

Without another word she tossed some clothes into the bedroom, they hit the bed. Tamlin lifted an eyebrow in confusion.

"Clothing." She said, as if it were not obvious.

"I won't be wearing Priestess robes." Tamlin said with a slight tilt to his lips.

"I would be offended if you were." Ianthe retorted, "Change and once you two have your heart to heart there is someone who wants to see the two of you."

"Who?" Lucien asked.

"Hurry up and you'll see." Ianthe told him flippantly. Then she closed the door.

Lucien rolled his eyes hard enough Tamlin thought they might get stuck in the back of his head.

"Must she be sarcastic as well as insufferable."

"Wouldn't be Ianthe otherwise." Was all Tamlin replied with as he moved to grab the clothes, she had tossed him.

Not her clothing, certainly not, the Priestess. Specifically, the High Priestesses, swore their virginity to the Mother. Which included a myriad of rules that Tamlin had never paid attention to learning. His mother had always scolded him for not being as studious as he should've been.

He didn't recognise the clothes and they smelled unused. How long had he been out that she had been able to go out and buy new clothing?

"I wonder who could be here-" Lucien started. Then cut himself off sharply as Tamlin unbuttoned his shirt.

"Tam-Tamlin!" Lucien quickly swivelled his head away, staring adamantly at the wall opposite to Tamlin.

Tamlin breathed in deeply as he still adjusted to the new weight on his chest. Strange and new despite him having worn it before.

He didn't purposely altar anything. His body was as it was if he had been biologically born a female. Risking alterations risked unnecessary magic and in turn unnecessary risk.

But it seemed he had inherited his mother's figure. Which was a pain in multiple ways. Including the back it was bound to cause his back.

"Mother above." Tamlin mumbled as he stretched his arms.

Lucien was very still, arms crossed, and eyes pinned to the wall. Tamlin watched him from the corner of his eye as he pulled on the thin blue knit top Ianthe had given him. It was fairly loose but tight enough that his figure was highlighted. Then he began to undo his trousers.

"Have you never seen a female's body before, Lucien?" Tamlin teased as he pulled his trousers down over his hips.

"I have-!" Lucien's gaze swiftly turned back at the implied insult, but he yelped and turned back away.

Tamlin rolled his eyes and quickly pulled on the new grey wool pants.

"You are free to look now." Tamlin said.

Lucien breathed out through his nose then turned back around. He nodded once then furrowed his brow.

"What?" Tamlin asked.

Lucien stammered for a moment before gesturing to Tamlin's chest. Tamlin nearly laughed.

"They're called tits, Lucien."

"I know- Mother above Tamlin." Lucien huffed, "I mean don't females usually wear.... undergarments for their breasts."

"Oh... yeah." That may possibly be helpful.

There was silence for a moment, then Tamlin asked, "Where do we get one of those?"

"How am I supposed to know?"

"I don't know Lucien, you're out with girls all the time."

"I don't go shopping with them." Lucien said scrunching his face.

Tamlin sighed, then he slid off the bed, "Well I have to go ask Alis an uncomfortable question. Join me?"

"And watch you stammer as you try to ask, of course." Lucien replied, quickly following after him.

Tamlin laughed and felt like maybe this would be okay.

Alis had been lurking just in a room down the hall. Giving some order to the new maids who had been hired. Lucien had walked in first, Tamlin, suddenly insecure of his new form, had hidden behind him. Hands itching to hold onto the back of his shirt, but he already first embarrassed enough as it was.

When Alis saw them, she quickly straightened and told the girls to shoo. They scattered off with a 'Yes miss,' and a curtsey to the Lords.

Tamlin did not enjoy how they looked at him confused and hesitantly said 'My lady.' He did not refute them though.

Once they were gone, Tamlin appeared before Alis more fully and began by saying, "So Alis-"

"This is going to be about bras I'm guessing." Alis said, with one hand on her hip.

Tamlin blinked, "How did you-"

Alis gestured to his chest, then raised an eyebrow, "You have your mother's form. You can borrow some of hers until we can have some made for you."

"Oh please God no-"

"You have an important guest waiting for you in your office, so you will suck it up, sweetheart." Alis said kindly before leading him back in the direction of his bedroom, Lucien trailing behind.

"Who is this important guest?" Tamlin asked.

Alis hesitated for a moment, before ultimately saying, "You will see."

Lucien quickly leaned in a said, "I told you Ianthe is contagious."

Tamlin stifled a laugh as Alis dragged him back into his room. When Lucien attempted to follow in, Alis shut the door in his face.

"Sorry Lucien!" She called out.

"No problem!" Lucien called back, "I'll wait here!"

Quickly Alis went over to Tamlin's wardrobe and rifled through for a single box. His mother's possessions which had been cleaned and put away for safe keeping. She eventually looked back up at him.

"Do you like red?" She asked sweetly.

"I am going to get a very uncomfortable reality of what my mother went through aren't I?"

"Yes, sweetheart, you are."

***

After Alis finally taught him how the clasps worked, making more than one comment about Feyre must have had to undo all her own bras as he was hopeless. They walked back out.

True to his word. Lucien was leaning against the wall opposite of the door, fiddling with his nails. As soon as the door opened and Tamlin stepped out, the Fox looked him over. Cheeks flushing red again, but he nodded, then jutted his head in the general direction of his office.

"Shall we?" Lucien asked.

"We don't have another choice." Tamlin mumbled.

Alis told them she would be getting back to work. Then murmured a good luck, which didn't give Tamlin much hope.

As they walked the halls, Lucien said, "You look good."

"Thanks, enjoy it while it lasts." He knew the effects of pregnancy were many. And many he was not looking forward to.

Lucien lightly knocked Tamlin's shoulder with his own, "We'll handle everything as it comes."

Tamlin nodded but he couldn't shake the utter worry festering in him.

Finally, they made it to the closed wood door of his office. Lucien and Tamlin stopped before it. Sharing a look. Tamlin nodded once and Lucien opened the door.

Tamlin didn't know what he was expecting. A monster maybe, Amarantha back from the dead. Hybern himself.

But his mind never conjured the idea of Eris Vanserra sitting in his chair. Legs kicked up on his desk, mindlessly playing with one of his pens.

"Finally!" Eris exclaimed, "Someone deigns to meet me."

Lucien had gone awfully still in front of him. Eris met his eyes, having not seen Tamlin behind him yet, "Brother, I thought your High lord would come himself, but I can always discuss matters with you. You were always quite intelligent."

"Eris." Lucien growled.

"Easy boy." Eris told him. Voice mocking, "I will not bite... nor burn."

"What are you doing here?" Lucien asked, his voice was a low and harsh. His hand twitched like the youngest Vanserra would like for nothing more than to burn his eldest brother to death.

"Is it not obvious? I came to see my dear old friend Tam-"

As Eris spoke, Tamlin stepped out from behind Lucien.

"-lin.... Interesting." Eris mused, a lazy grin spreading across his feline face as he laid further back into Tamlin's chair.

"Vanserra, kindly get the fuck out of my chair."

After another careful once-over of Tamlin's new form, he said, "But the view from here if quite spectacular."

A smile spread on Tamlin's face, "Then come over here and you may see it better."

"Well, if you insist." Eris said as he easily stood without faltering and walked around the desk.

In a second Lucien's arm shot out, but Eris tsked, "Such behaviour, littlest brother. I am sure Tamlin is fully capable."

"I trust you, Eris, as far as I can throw you. Which we can both assume would not be very far."

"Right." Eris drawled, side-eying his brother.

"Enough sibling rivalry. Hello Eris." Tamlin said with a grin.

Eris turned his attention to his friend, the friend he'd had for four centuries, "Hello Tamlin."

Lucien blinked. Tamlin just nodded to him, and the Fox glared but moved his hand away.

"What do you need?" Tamlin asked, as long as he had been friends with Eris, he knew this was male never came around for just a friendly check in.

"Heard on the grapevine that a certain bride ran off with teh High lord of Night. Decided to come around and see what all the fuss was."

Tamlin blinked, then he looked at Lucien who was scowling.

If word had already reached Eris... How long had he been out for?

"Lucien how long was I asleep?" Tamlin asked.

Lucien pursed his lips, then he turned to Tamlin and slowly said, "About a day and a half."

Tamlin gaped. He forced his way past Eris, who despicably was taller than him whilst he was female form. He looked out the large window behind his desk and saw that the sun was indeed high in the sky.

"It's tomorrow?!" Tamlin seethed.

"I didn't want to worry you so soon after you woke up." Lucien said gently.

"It would have been helpful to know it was tomorrow!"

That meant Feyre had already been in the Night Court for a day and a half. Rhysand doing the Gods knew what to her-

"Mother above." Tamlin felt sick.

"Okay." Lucien hummed, he quickly walked over and took Tamlin's hands. Leading him to the green lounge. Slowly letting him sink into the soft pillows, "Breathe Tamlin."

Tamlin wanted to snap, but even breathing was becoming difficult.

"What is going on?" Eris asked, concern bleeding into his words.

Lucien looked between Eris and Tamlin, then leaned into whisper, "Do you wish to tell him?"

"Tell me what?" Eris stepped forward.

"Eris-!" Lucien stood up, looking as though he would physically remove Eris from the office himself, but Tamlin caught his hand.

"It's fine Lucien, he can know."

"Are you sure?" Lucien asked.

Tamlin nodded, then turned to look at Eris who was standing with his arm crossed and eyebrow raised.

He looked so smug, the one joy Tamlin could find was he about to knock that away.

"Eris I'm pregnant."

Eris' furrowed his brow.

A heartbeat passed, and the news sunk in.

The first son of Autumn's face dropped. His mouth fell open, his eyes widened so most of his whites showed. He quickly put the back of his hand over his mouth as he processed it.

"What?" Eris managed to choke out.

In any other situation, Tamlin would have laughed at how the snarky Prince was finally speechless. Right now all he wished to do was cry.

"Yes." His voice nearly cracked. But he swallowed hard and held his head high.

"So that's why..." Eris made a gesture to his body and Tamlin wanted to curl up and away from sight.

"Yes." Tamlin said in a far quieter voice to keep the shaking out of his voice.

"Oh... shit. But Feyre-"

"Is also a shapeshifter," Lucien said.

Eris looked between Lucien and Tamlin. Occasionally opening his mouth to say something but ultimately choosing not to.

Then he sat down on the lounge beside Tamlin, eyes blinking, and face still caught in shock, "Well... fuck."

"That was the beginning of the problem." Tamlin said.

Lucien and Eris chuckled suddenly at Tamlin's attempt at a joke.

Then the room fell silent again.

Now that it was out and open, Tamlin couldn't deny it any longer.

A baby.

He was having a baby.

And his fiancé was in the Night Court. Completely unknowing.

And he was here.

Tears pressed into his eyes and Tamlin was finally unable to stop them.

"Oh, love." Lucien whispered. Collecting Tamlin in his arms.

At the warmth, the love in his embrace. Tamlin was utterly helpless. He cried into his chest, unable to hold it back any longer.

A warm hand that wasn't Lucien's rubbed up and down his back.

"I'll murder Rhysand." Eris hissed under his breath.

Lucien drew in a breath, "Let's just start with handling this week."

***

The week itself ended quicker than Tamlin thought it would. Eris couldn't stay for longer than the rest of the day, but he promised to return again later.

As for Tamlin, he cried a lot that week. He also broke more than one vase after a nightmare of seeing Feyre underneath Rhysand, screaming for help-

Lucien held him a lot that week. Tamlin hated how dependant he felt on his touch, on his arms around him. Alis had been as open as she could, but even she was busy with training the new hires. And the most comfort Ianthe was physically capable of providing anybody was an awkward pat on the shoulder.

More than once Lucien and Tamlin wound up in the library. Curled up on a cushioned seat made for one. The fire roaring the manor asleep.

Tamlin had often tucked his face into Lucien's neck, whilst Lucien held him in his arms. Whispering sweet nothings in his ear to calm him.

It had been a nice reprieve from the stress. But nothing could put aside the fear he held that at the end of the week Feyre wouldn't be back.

But she was.

And something was very, very different.

Tamlin's first fear was that Rhysand had laid hands on her. But spoke little of what had happened during the week.

"Anything, anything you learned, anything they told you." Lucien said, as Feyre glared at him from her seat.

Her eyes were colder, her gaze piercing. She shook her head, "They told me nothing of value. I just stayed in his palace until the weeks end."

Tamlin nodded, finding comfort in that least, "He didn't touch you?"

Feyre shook her head and Tamlin wanted to thank the Mother.

"That's good."

At least they had that reassurance.

But why collect her now?

What game are you playing Rhysand?

***

"Feyre! Thank the Mother and Cauldron and every holy item in her trove!" Ianthe exclaimed as the taller female wrapped the Cursebreaker in a hug hard enough to crush.

The air whooshed from Feyre's lungs and she gasped. But her shock overode the pain. Ianthe was hugging her. Being physically affectionate.

That was... a first.

Then she quickly pulled back and cupped Feyre's face, moving her head back and forth as she inspected the younger woman for injuries of any kind.

"The Mother will wreak havoc on that male if he has harmed you. He never touched you, did he?" She asked quickly.

Feyre shook her head. "No Ianthe, he did nothing to me."

"Oh, the Mother is kind and merciful." Ianthe then pulled her into another embrace.

"Ianthe you- can't breathe."

"Oh, oh no." Ianthe quickly released her, "Sorry."

Feyre took in a breath and rubbed her sore ribs, "It's fine, really."

Ianthe nodded, then she scowled at her clothes, "Come flower, we'll get these atrocious fabrics off of you."

As much as Feyre wished to snap they were not atrocious, that she had learned to love the clothing she was in. That she didn't want to put on the clothes of Spring, but she nodded and silently allowed Ianthe to lead her back inside.

Tamlin she saw next. Her initial reaction was shock because of who she saw standing in place of the normally broad hunter-like male.

She saw Tamlin, in the same female form he had been in the night they shared together several months ago. A loose green silk dress adorned his figure, curving around his full breasts and slightly smaller waist. He was slightly shorter but still much taller than Feyre. Now Ianthe's height. Though Ianthe could not be called a short woman at all.

"Feyre." He breathed, before rushing to pull her into hsi arms.

Feyre let him, not knowing why the usual passion she felt for him was missing.

***

The Tithe came and Tamlin was sick several times before it began. Lucien stayed with him in the bathroom for over half an hour just holding back his hair and rubbing his back.

By the time he had to make an appearance he felt like going to sleep for a thousand years. He was tired and so, so fucking sick of it all.

"Are you sure you're well enough to do this?"

"Not at all." Tamlin said.

He was nowhere near well enough to do this, but life wasn't fair especially to him. So, he sucked it up but on a fake smile and walked out into the throne room where Feyre was already waiting with Ianthe. The two were talking about something or other and the conversation halted as he entered, and the Tithe began.

It was nearly as disastrous as the wedding. Ending with once again Feyre storming out.

Tamlin knew what it must've looked like to her. He himself nearly felt bad for the Faery, but he also knew they had found their way here from Summer during the fifty years and had never participated in the Tithe before. He already had the complaint that they didn't want to.

But until the treasures were at least partially recovered from Under the Mountain, and trade was back and running through the Courts. They needed the Tithe.

It was one thing that Feyre said that pissed him off enough that he didn't go after her himself.

"We already have enough jewels."

As if the Tither's collections were for him. As if most, if not all of it went into the salaries for his staff, housing for his people, the workers and the farmers supplies and defences for Spring.

Tamlin had stormed back to his room. It didn't help that he felt fucking useless, helpless, in this form. In a delicate state he couldn't risk too much.

Worst of all he hated the way he now had to dress in it to appear proper. He hated the way his body looked. And he hated knowing how the baby would ruin how he looked.

For years his body had been the one thing in his life had control of. Then Amarantha had forced him and his Court Under the Mountain and his body too was stripped from him.

Eyes roaming exposed skin, taking what didn't belong to it-

He just got his body back and now it was taken again. Now the love of his life was being taken from him a week a month.

Tamlin stormed to his room and locked the door. He then ran to his bed, grabbed the nearest pillow and screamed into it. He pulled back inhaled then screamed into again.

Then he threw the pillow to the floor like it was personally responsible for years of agony.

He wanted to destroy the entire room. Feel the thrill of shredding fabric and breaking furniture under his claws.

But he was fucking tired.

He collapsed onto his bed, grabbed another pillow and screamed into that as well. Before tossing it across the room, it hit the wall with a thud.

Tamlin closed his eyes, and for a brief moment, he hoped he never opened them.

There was a knock at his door.

"Go away!" Tamlin shouted.

"I wasn't going to come in." Ianthe answered, "I just wanted to tell you Feyre is safe in her room, but Rhysand will be collecting her tomorrow."

Oh shit.

Fuck no-

Tamlin sat up straight, but Ianthe called out, "Before you come rushing out this is a hallway with two closed doors at either end and no other women are here so let me leave first."

Tamlin huffed but sat back down, Ianthe then said, "She also doesn't want to see you, but I believe Lucien is waiting in the library."

Tamlin wanted to ask why he should care if Lucien was waiting in the library, but her heard her footsteps leaving and the door of the hallway opening and closing.

"Mother help me." Tamlin mumbled as he stood up and finally left.

He passed Feyre's room and at first his body screamed top open the door and see her. But Ianthe's warning came to mind. He sighed but left it alone.

Lucien was in fact in the library. Sprawled across the sae chair they had spent the week curled up together in. He was deeply entrenched in what he was reading. But he looked up at the sound of Tamlin's footsteps.

Lucien smiled, putting his book down he opened his arms, "Come here, baby."

"Fuck." Tamlin whispered under his breath before rushing to Lucien and falling into his arms, sobbing relentlessly into his dhoulder.

"I'm so fucking pathetic." He cried.

"No you're not, Tam, no you're not." Lucine murmured.

"I can't even protect the one person I'm supposed to protect."

"I know, Tam, I know." Lucien kept him wrapped in his warm arms. They stayed holding each other for hours, until Tamlin ran out of tears and fell into exhaustion, finally sleeping, despite the slightly awkward position.

At some point after Tamlin had fallen asleep someone knocked on the threshold and Lucien looked up to see Alis at the door, and behind her was Eris.

The eldest Vanserra walked in, needing no further introduction from Alis, who just nodded to Lucien before slipping away.

Eris sat in a lounge next to Lucien, simply saying, "I'll stay with him this week when you can't."

"Why do you care?" Lucien asked.

"Because he would do the same for me."

***

The week came and went. Same as ever. Except that this time Eris did stay.

As much as Tamlin just wanted to sleep for a week and wake up whenever Feyre was back, he was a High lord and lately one thing stood on the forefront of his mind. The bargain Feyre had made.

Books upon books were open on his desk. Scattered across the ground, papers scrunched littered the floor. Eris was sitting in the green lounge, also flipping through the old books they had taken from the library.

"Nothing." Eris stated, letting the book nag onto the coffee table.

"Could you at least try to be helpful?" Tamlin growled, though it did not sound the same in his female form it was just as intimidating. Though Eris, as per usual, was not impressed.

"I'd much rather be a nuisance." Eris said deadpan. Tamlin rolled his eyes.

"Gods above." Tamlin cursed.

Was there no way out of this?

Here is the link to chapter three!

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