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separatist-apologist · 2 years

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You Should See Me In A Crown

Summary: Nesta Archeron is content with her small life in her quiet village. She doesn't mind if everyday is like the one before so long as she's left alone. Having sworn off all men, romance, and marriage, Nesta means to do exactly as she pleases without submitting to the whims of a husband who fancies himself a master.

The God of War and Vengeance aims to change that.

Part 1: Watch Me Make Them Bow | AO3

Companion to I Am Not A Woman, I'm A God

TW: Dubious consent; Threesome; every sexual act is dubious without God's light; Cassian being in characer

Nesta wasn’t sure what woke her that night. It had started like any other. She’d gone to see Feyre after receiving a letter from Elain regarding her now broken engagement. Elain was sad—a solid day’s journey from Feyre and Nesta’s village by the sea. Nesta and Feyre made a plan to bring her back, deciding Elain could stay with Nesta, who had a larger home, while they resettled her. Having decided that, Nesta had gone for some herbs that dotted the nearby cliffside before returning where Tomas was waiting on her.

He'd pulled her book from her wicker basket with a sneer. “Don’t you ever tire of your stories?”

She knew what he wanted. She’d been tempted once, into giving up a single life to be his wife. How had he repaid her? By pinning her inside his barn and trying to physically force her into marriage by ruining her reputation.

A bruised eye and the chunk missing from his ear did little to dissuade him. She knew what waited for her, should he ever manage to truly compromise her. So Nesta, eyes narrowed to slits, had replied, “Nope.”

And Tomas had slunk off before she could remind him he could barely read anyway. Insulting him was one of her passions. He would learn, one of those days, to leave her alone. It had been an utterly normal day, tucked away in her two-room cottage. Nesta had cooked soup, had read, cleaned and put herself to bed. Tomorrow would be a long journey and she wanted to be ready for it.

The air seemed to vibrate a warning. She laid there, eyes adjusting to the dark, blanket tangled around her waist. She wore only a white night dress, practically see through in the moonlight. Beams of silver poured over the blue of her bed, practically dancing in the air. She swallowed, counting in her mind. She’d had a nightmare, she told herself. One she couldn’t remember, one that had settled in her subconscious like a warning.

Her heart pounded against her chest, ears straining in the silence. Only crickets chirped their sweet night song. Everything was as it should be. Eyes heavy, Nesta nestled her face against her feathered pillow. She was fine, everything was fine.

The air went still just as her eyes fluttered shut. She almost didn’t notice how the crickets silenced, how even the soft hum of the waves nearby seemed dimmed. The only thing she could hear was the steady beating of wings overhead, from an animal far too large to be a bird. Nesta flung from her bed the moment the creature—whatever it was—landed roughly atop her roof.

For a moment neither of them moved. She tilted her head, waiting. She had the most uncomfortable feeling that whatever lay above was doing the same,

Darkness flooded beneath her floorboards, swirling like a fog that threatened to consume her. Nesta couldn’t move, even as a pair of violet, starry eyes seemed to wink into existence. The mist evaporated only a moment later and without knowing how, she knew that creature was looking for Feyre.

“All yours, brother,” a dark, masculine voice whispered against the wind. Boots on the roof, she realized with cold horror. The beast overtop her was, in some way, a man.

Nesta burst through her front door to scream a warning. “Feyre, run!”

She looked upwards at the beast, looking down at her with a dark, ancient smile. He was massive. Huge, leathery wings protruded from his shoulder blades, his chest, inked in the ancient, swirling language of the Gods, glowed softly in the silvery moonlight. He took a step and Nesta, hearing the sound of Feyre’s front door flying open, ran towards the water.

It was foolish, in retrospect. She recognized the beast for what he was the moment their eyes met. He wasn’t human, which made him otherworldly. A God, if she was lucky, a demon if she wasn’t. Gods were bound to obey the Mother and Nesta had been her acolyte her entire life, She was certain no son of the Mother could truly harm her.

He caught her where the grass met sand, sinking to the ground like something monstrous. As he rose, Nesta recognized him. He was one of the dark brothers—Chaos, Vengeance, Night and Death. It didn’t take a genius to figure out which one this man belonged to. He cocked his head, dark, wavy brown hair spilling around a face that would make even the angels weep. “You know who I am.”

“Whoever wronged you, it has nothing to do with me,” Nesta told him, stumbling back a step despite her level voice. Had Tomas called him as an act of revenge? Were the Gods now answering those kinds of summons?

He smiled, making up the step she took with one of his own. There would be no fighting this man. Though he had twin swords strapped to the back of his chest, theirs gleaming hilt peeking over his broad shoulders, Nesta knew he could kill her with one powerful blow of his large hands.

“I haven’t been wronged,” he told her, his deep voice rumbling through her. He spoke as if the entire thing amused him. Nesta fought her rising panic. If she could get to the water, she could outswim him, could use the tide to take her to an island offshore. He didn’t look as if he could swim. Perhaps she’d drown him out there. Gods, after all, could not die. “I was sent to retrieve you.”

That was news to Nesta. “Sent?”

His smile never waivered. “Your sister made a foolish bargain and her new master hopes to control her—” “Elain,” Nesta whispered. “What has she done?”

It was a rhetorical question. He didn’t bother to answer, not when he thought he had her. Nesta feigned resolve, letting her shoulders slump. She was willing to bet that man or God, they were all the same. She saw the way his hazel eyes flashed, how his eyes slid down her body in her clingy, ankle length night dress. Her hair was unbound, falling down her back in thick waves. He wouldn’t see anything but what he wanted to.

He walked towards her, hands outstretched. They fell heavy on her shoulders. “Perhaps I might have some fun with you, too.” Ignoring the implications of what was happening to Elain, Nesta didn’t move. She counted her breaths. “Fun?”

He wrapped a hand around her throat, letting it glide up her skin before tilting her chin to really look at him. “Surely you know the kind.” His eyes found her mouth, dipping his head. “I’m sure I don’t,” she relied softly, fingers balled to fists at her side.

“You will learn, then.” Nesta struck, her knee coming up hard and fast. He groaned when bone met his genitals. For good measure, she slammed her face into his. He stumbled backwards and Nesta, free of his grasp, darted around him. Bare feet sank into stand as she ran for her life. She hit the freezing water without a care just as a strong arm wrapped around her torso. Nesta screamed again, flailing her legs wildly.

“The more you fight, the more I think I like you,” he whispered, breath hot against her neck.

She bit him, teeth sinking into the muscle of his forearm. He only laughed, even when blood filled her mouth. “You’ll soon have the taste of it,” he warned, pressing a kiss to the side of her neck.

“Let me go,” Nesta gasped.

“I think not,” he replied. His wings unfurled around them, blanketing her for a moment. Nesta screamed again, her fear choking every other thought from her mind. A dark claw brushed against her cheek, scraping softly over her skin. She writhed for all the good it did. He was holding her with just one arm, laughing as if her fear amused him.

His wings beat against the wind, hauling her off the ground. “Don’t—”

“It’s too late,” he told her, letting her legs dangle towards the narrowing ground. Nesta, who’d never once left solid ground, realized she was more afraid of falling than she was of the monster holding her. She twisted, reaching for his neck until he used his other arm to hold her legs.

“My fearsome witch is afraid of heights?” he murmured with a chuckle. “I wonder what else scares you.”

“Just take me to Elain,” she told him, her cheek pressed to the burning skin of his chest. She screwed her eyes shut, determined not to look at anything. “And let Lucien have his fun? I think not,” he replied. Lucien. Nesta had to think carefully in her mind. Azriel was death…Rhysand…Night…which made Lucien chaos and this man…

“Cassian,” she murmured. She felt him shiver at the sound. “Yes. Cassian,” he agreed.

Ignoring the cool bite of the night air against her skin and the fear of where he took her, Nesta asked, “What did she do?”

Cassian chuckled again. “Mortals get into the silliest of trouble. She bound herself to my brother and he means to make her immortal. A wife,” Cassian added, as if Nesta couldn’t guess for herself. Nesta tried to imagine Elain as a Goddess, trapped forever with one of these cruel, horrible beasts.

“An accident,” Nesta tried to explain, as if these creatures would be reasoned with. “She was just engaged.” “That male is dead,” Cassian told her gleefully. “Lucien has an awful temper, you know.”

He was baiting her. To what end, Nesta could not understand. Cassian, it seemed, lacked any subtlety. “How come you don’t cry?”

“Do you want me to cry?” “I suspect if I said yes, you would refuse simply to spite me,” he replied. She hated his amusement. Hated him.

“He’s not as dumb as he looks,” she spat. She felt him bury his nose in her hair, inhaling deeply.

“I like your spirit,” he admitted. “I relish the thought of breaking you.”

“I won’t live long enough for that,” Nesta retorted, peeking open an eye. Thick clouds enveloped them; the ground utterly gone beneath them. It was as if they floated through time itself. Her stomach lurched, not against the height, but a nice idea that hadn’t occurred to her before. “Where are you taking me?”

“Home,” he replied simply. Home. The realm of the Gods belonged to them. Mortals to entered did not leave without their help. Nesta looked upwards, as if she’d see the Mother peering down at her.

Please help me, she thought silently, sending her prayer heavenward.

“My other sister…which of your brothers was looking for her.” “Only Rhysand,” Cassian assured her, as if he understood no one wanted to be subjected to Azriel’s attentions. It made her feel only the slightest bit better. “And he’s a sentimental fool.”

“And you’re not?” she challenged.

“You’ll see.”

It was the last thing Nesta heard before something metallic lodged itself in her nose. She shook her head, trying to clear the scent. She heard Cassian murmur a shushing sound as her eyes drooped against her will.

Magic, he’s subduing you with magic!

It didn’t matter. She couldn’t fight him.

The darkness took Nesta before she could even scream one last time for help.

~*~

Nesta woke to softness. Eyes closed, she inhaled the unfamiliar scent of eucalyptus and mint mingled with something distinctly masculine. She wasn’t naïve enough to think what happened to her was a dream and yet when Nesta opened her eyes, she was disappointed all the same. She was bound, chained to the bed not with rope but with heavy iron. A blanket was draped over her body, the softness of it telling her she wore nothing beneath.

He'd undressed her. She shivered at the thought of his hands on her body, revulsion mingling with something else…something too curious for her own liking. Nesta tugged anyway, surprised by a burst of hot flame against her palm. She twisted to look, catching sight of a long, bloody gash cut from her middle finger to her wrist.

Nesta didn’t move for a long time, her mind reeling. Elain had bound herself to a wild God, one who had demanded her sisters be brought to him. Was Cassian forced to obey? Lucien was certainly not their leader, as far as she’d ever known, anyway. Her knowledge of the Gods was theoretical at best.

Cool air blew from a nearby window, drawing her attention to her surroundings. The room was surprisingly elegant for a beast like Cassian, made of wood and ivory instead of the hard gray stone she might of assumed for him. Red dominated the color palate, from the blanket she lay beneath to the sheer curtains fluttering in the wind. The smell of pine danced along the wind, telling Nesta she was somewhere cold, somewhere surrounded by a forest.

The rounded door at the far end of the room pushed open, bringing the man himself into the room. He’d shed himself of his blades though it did nothing to make him seem less terrifying. Hazel eyes set in soft, golden-brown skin made him look almost human. That teasing smile on his full lips only added to the effect. He was absurdly lovely. She wished he wasn’t, wished she wasn’t staring at his muscled torso, of how even his rib cage appeared to be hidden beneath thick cords of it, of the veins in his biceps or how his thighs seemed to bulge in brown pants.

“You were asleep for a full day,” he told her, walking to the bed. Nesta scooted to the side, eyeing the chains holding her wrists. He sat anyway, resting a hand on her stomach. “Do you not sleep well among the humans?”

Nesta would have rather died than admit that she slept poorly, afraid one night Tomas would break in. She didn’t need him to know men frightened her. Especially one like him, with his cocked head and curious gaze. He watched her as if she were a bug in a glass.

When it was clear she wasn’t going to explain the source of her exhaustion, Cassian stood. “If I unchain you and provide you with a set of clothes, do you intend to run from me?”

“No,” she lied automatically. He smiled, looking towards the window.

“I confess, I do not feel the cold anymore. Mortals are such breakable things…so high up in the mountains, far from civilization…I wonder how far you might get before you froze to death.”

“Is this a game to you?” she whispered, hating him more by the moment.

“Yes,” he admitted, peering down at his palm. She noted he was also bleeding, an identical cut running down the length of his hand.

“What did you do?” she demanded. Blood oaths were made this way. Had he forced one on her? Could he, even?

“I’ve gone to see my brother,” he admitted, his eyes tracking her every movement.

“Okay,” Nesta prompted. “And what did you to do to the two of us?”

His grin was gleeful. “I have bound us…wife.” He said the last part as if testing the word, his eyes dancing with pleasure. “Wife.”

“You…take it back,” Nesta gasped, pulling against the chains. “That kind of magic is ancient, it’s—”

“It works,” he murmured, standing beside the bed. “Your sister seems quite pleased with her new status. Lovely, even. A Goddess of hearth and home.”

“Oh…oh no,” Nesta whispered softly. Surely Elain could not have been so stupid to make a devils bargain.

“I’ve never seen him quite so smitten,” Cassian continued. “I thought the knowledge that your sister was safe and well would please you.” “You have me chained to your bed and you’ve married me while I was asleep. Now you say my sister is a Goddess, and think all is forgiven?”

Cassian raised his brows. “Yes?”

“NO!” she screeched, thrashing against her chains. “Let me go!”

He raised a hand, releasing her from her bonds. “Stand up,” he all but purred. Nesta clutched the blanket to her body.

“Get out,” she whispered.

Cassian took a breath. “If you try and escape, something far worse than me will come looking for you. Hear me now, witch. If you bring that beast to my home, you will suffer both our wrath and you will suffer it gladly.”

Nesta met his stare, refusing to back down. She was resolved not to get caught, to figure a way to speak with the Mother herself and beg for protection. Nesta knew Cassian had guessed her plan. She wondered how much of him was hoping she’d try and just what suffering his wrath meant.

“If you need something, you merely have to ask,” he murmured, looking at the palm of his hand. Nesta curled her fingers into her own wounded flesh. He thought he could bind her to him and she’d, what? Fall gratefully at his feet? Is that what Elain had done?

“I need clothes for snow,” Nesta said carefully. She expected Cassian to burst back into the room, to yank off the blanket and dress her himself. Instead, a neat pile of clothes appeared on the edge of the bed though no one but her was in the room. Nesta looked up at the vaulted ceiling, eyes narrowed.

“And a heavy cloak.” A silvery blue cloak, complete with a fur lined hood, joined her pile.

“Boots?”

Brown boots, trimmed with more black fur, rested against the clothes. She scrambled, yanking on the warm under layers before quickly buttoning the blue dress up to her neck. Nesta was quick with her hair, braiding it in a crown around her head as she’d done every day of her life for the last decade. She didn’t need a mirror, could do it on feel alone.

Nesta pulled on the wool socks before sliding her feet in the warm boots. She draped her cloak over her arm and took a breath. She’d expected a fortress still, even in the wake of the bedroom he’d had her chained up in. Her mind couldn’t handle the herringbone wood floors or the soft chandeliers that threw glowing light over the red trimmed walls. She kept expecting Cassian to pop out behind a corner, grab her, and throw her back to that bed. No one stopped her—she didn’t see even a servant as she slid through the halls, her heart pounding roughly against her chest.

Nesta pushed open and door and suddenly understood why Cassian didn’t bother to guard her. Wind whipped around her face, dragging flurries of snow against a gray sky. When she stepped from the interior of his palace into the powder covered courtyard, she nearly sank to her knees. Her clothes were waterproof enough but Nesta was immediately reevaluating her plan. She could hardly see in any direction, had no idea where to even go.

Away from here, she decided. She was used to walking and used to snow…though not like this. Summoning her will, Nesta closed the door quietly behind her and took that first miserable step. Cold seeped through the cloth and she wondered if she shouldn’t have asked the magical house for something else. Food or fire, something besides just herself.

She couldn’t turn back now. Nesta could practically feel Cassian’s eyes on her, his laugh murmured on the wind. She’d go as far as she could and hope there was a village nearby that might take pity on her.

No matter which direction Nesta chose to walk, she was walking against the wind. Her nose was raw, her lips frozen and her body ached from the effort. She was walking just to walk by the time the palace, cut into the side of what she now realized was a trio of mountains she’d have to trek through in order to fully escape him. Nesta knew it must be possible or Cassian wouldn’t have warned her not to try.

The alternative was unthinkable. Elain might be happy being wed to a monster but she wouldn’t be. Nesta wanted no man, not as a husband, a lover, or a master. Men tended to skew towards the latter besides, not content merely to love and cherish. They demanded obedience, subservience. It was the lives of the women in every village she’d ever been to. Nesta had taught both Elain and Feyre to help midwife, watching as woman after woman fell in childbirth. Their husbands merely buried them and moved on, choosing another woman they might one day kill with little regards to her hopes or dreams.

Cassian was the embodiment of all those men, wrapped up in a too-appealing package. He had the face of the most handsome man she’d ever seen, as if he’d been made solely to her specifications. Tall, muscular, chiseled and rough…had he been a regular man she might have looked twice as he passed through the village. Might have fantasized about what being with him would have been like.

She knew what being with him would be like. He’d take and take and take until she was merely a husk of a person. She didn’t believe for a moment any of these beasts meant to make her or her sisters immortal beings. Elain was probably being held in some dungeon, used at the monsters chaotic will before thrown back into the darkness.

And Feyre…Nesta shivered, not from the cold but her imagination of what was happening to her youngest sister. She could withstand whatever Cassian threw at her but Elain and Feyre couldn’t. They’d break, become dust. She though…Nesta ducked her head, wishing she could lay down somewhere. There was nothing but an endless sea of white and she knew if she sat, she’d never get back up.

Nesta took another step, blowing out a breath of frustration. The world shifted, vanishing from beneath her. She barely had a moment to scream before she plummeted. It felt as if she fell forever before her body slammed hard back to the ground. Gravity pushed her through the snow, blanketing her until it covered her face. Nesta panicked, unable to breathe. She was pinned there, unable to reach above her. She’d always imagined snow to be a soft, weightless thing but now, Nesta might as well have a boulder atop her chest.

If it was panic or a lack of oxygen that sent Nesta back to the blackness, she’d never know. All Nesta knew was at some point cool air was touching her face, a mercy given how burning she was.

“My dress,” she mumbled, her frigid fingers reaching for the clasp of her cloak. “Too warm—”

“Don’t touch it,” a cold, deep voice demanded. She couldn’t open her eyes to look, didn’t care even. It wasn’t Cassian who held her, of that she was certain. The voice was different, smoother somehow. Like frigid water gliding over stone.

“What are you?” she asked, body curled against the warmth of his chest.

“Death,” he chuckled. Death. The word ought to have scared her more. What had Cassian warned her of? You will suffer both our wrath…and you will suffer it gladly.

She couldn’t ask anything else, too exhausted to do more than sleep. Nesta drifted in and out, even when she had the vaguest sense she was back indoor, enveloped by warmth.

“Fierce little witch,” Cassian’s voice murmured, his voice soft and hazy. “You had to try, didn’t you?”

“What will you do to me?” Nesta asked. She was shaking violently, laying on top of something. She reached out a hand, fisting a blanket. Back in bed. She was strangely grateful for it. The mattress dipped and the blanket shifted, pulling her beneath. Nesta found herself pressed against a warm slab of something.

“I warned you of my wrath, did I not?” he whispered, his fingers brushing wisps of her hair from her face.

“Is this it?” she couldn’t help but ask, teeth chattering so hard it made her head ache. Cassian’s hand skimmed over the side of her body. Nesta gasped. She was naked and when she opened her eyes to look, so was he. He was wrapped around her, one muscular arm thrown over her body.

“Not quite,” Cassian murmured, the pads of his fingertips brushing the cold peak of her breast. Nesta wasn’t sure her shivering was from his hands or the cold.

“No, Cassian,” she whispered, trying to push his hand off her.

“Yes,” he argued simply, resisting her poor attempt to push him off.

“I won’t be your wife,” she informed him, closing her eyes so she didn’t have to see the intensity of his gaze, watching her with a hunger that threatened to consume her.

“Then you’ll be my whore,” he promised. “I’ll have you any way I can.” She shook violently beneath the possession in his voice. “Cassian, please,” she whispered, pleasure starting to pool in her chest. He was plucking her nipples softly, tugging and teasing with expert practice. He shifted behind her, groaning softly. She could feel his erection pressing against the curve of her backside. “I’ve never…” “You will,” he insisted roughly. “With more than one man tonight.”

She went still. “What did you say?” “I warned you, wife,” he murmured, his lips brushing a trail of fire over her neck. “If you brought Death to my door, you would suffer both our wrath.”

“Cassian—” “If you keep saying my name like that, I’m going to come before you ever touch me,” he warned.

“I won’t touch you,” she snapped, eyes flying open. Cassian grabbed her wrist, hazel eyes flashing, and pulled her arm between them. Using his own hand, he wrapped her fingers around the thick length of him. Nesta froze for a moment, stunned. She had to look, had to shove the blanket back to see the large appendage now wrapped tightly in her fist, so large her fingers didn’t touch.

“See?” he murmured with a shaky breath. “You’re touching me.” “That…” he was unlike anything she’d ever imagined. Even with Tomas pressed against her, Nesta had known the relative size of him. Cassian outdid all mortal men without even trying.

“Pump,” he ordered, using his hand to guide her. Her fist slid up the length of him while she watched. Golden brown skin seemed to darken closer to the tip, glistening with moisture. She understood the mechanics, was almost fascinated by the sight.

Cassian buried his face in her hair, inhaling deeply. “Your thoughts betray you, witch. I can smell your arousal.”

“I’m not…” Nesta tried to lie but her legs pressed together all the same. He was still using her hand, dragging her slowly up and down his cock. She wiggled her thumb free, letting it glide over the head, dragging his own wetness back down with her.

“You’re stroking just like I like it,” Cassian ground out, letting her nails dig against his skin.

“You like pain?” Nesta couldn’t help but ask.

He flipped her to her back before she had a chance to catch her breath. “I love pain,” he whispered, disappointment flickering over his features when her hand dropped from his body. He stood, letting the blanket reveal every inch of his glorious, muscular body. Wings tucked tight against his back, making the markings on his chest starker by comparison.

“What do those mean?” she asked, watching him breathlessly. Cassian ran a hand over his chest, down his stomach before taking himself in his hand.

“They’re all my victories. I’ll add you right on the back, just as soon as I tame you. I’ll bet you mewl like a kitten when you’re pleased,” he crooned, stroking himself absently. Her breasts were barred, still cold from her attempted escape. Nesta reached for the blanket, screaming with frustration when her hands yanked over her head by invisible strings. Her iron manacles were back, holding her in place. Cassian grinned.

“Should I do your legs, too? I might like if you fight me.” “You’re disgusting,” she accused, hating the way he smiled. Cassian paced slowly to the foot of the bed, grabbing the blanket and yanking roughly. His eyes slid to the door, grinning wider at the air while Nesta crossed her knees, trying to keep him from seeing all of her. It hardly mattered. A moment later, both ankles were bound, spread apart for his viewing pleasure.

Cassian dropped his hold on his erect cock to crack his knuckles, as if she were something he relished breaking. “No one has ever touched any part of you?” he questioned, skimming his hands over her barred thighs.

Nesta pressed her lips together. If she told him about Tomas, he would rob her of her revenge. She didn’t have to—rage rippled over his features as he realized. “Tell me the mortals name.” “Go fuck yourself,” Nesta spat furiously, pulling against her restraint.

“You’ll tell me by the end,” Cassian decided, his anger unabated. “Right after you beg me to come.”

“I’ll never beg,” she assured him, hating the way his words warmed her. It was almost thrilling, to have so little control. Nesta was a person to prided herself on nothing but control. She’d had her iron will as a child with spine made of pure steel. No one did anything she didn’t allow…until today. She hated the relief that was starting to thread through her, heightening the excitement she already felt. There were no consequences now. Whatever she said or didn’t say, whatever she tried to do, all of it wouldn’t matter. Cassian decided.

And she was but a slave to his will.

She expected him to slide himself inside her. She’d heard the women in the village talk often enough of men who took their pleasure first, who didn’t care if their partners enjoyed it. Why should Cassian be any different. He lowered himself to the floor, kneeling in front of her spread open pussy. “Do you like the sight of me on my knees before you?” he whispered, breath hot on her thighs. “Bowing before my Queen?”

“I’m not…” she trailed off when she felt his nose nuzzle between her legs, inhaling softly.

“You are,” he insisted.

“Cassian—”

It was a mistake to say his name. Her words choked in her throat, hips bowing off the bed when his tongue slid up the length of her, swirling softly over her clit.

“Say it again,” he growled, his fingers digging into her thighs. “I dare you. Say my name again.”

She was defiantly silent, teeth biting so hard against her lower lip she could taste blood. She could never, ever admit that what she wanted in that moment was for him to put his mouth back on her.

He knew. Their eyes met and he realized he knew what she wanted. “Beg, wife,” he demanded. “Say my name and beg and I will grant you everything you ask.” It was a lie. He’d never let her go, not if she asked. Nesta wasn’t even sure she wanted him to. She opened her mouth to try anyway, eyes sliding back to his face. She was surprised to see his own unchecked need mingled among the arrogance of his features. He wanted this as badly as her.

It was strange to imagine any part of her having power of this creature but in that moment, Nesta felt powerful. “Cassian,” she whispered, laying her head back on the pillow. “Please.” She didn’t have to ask anything else. His lips closed around her clit before she finished the word, sucking softly. She gasped, arousal spiking through her body. His tongue was the softest part of him, lapping over and over in the most maddeningly slow circles.

She wanted more. Wanted something she didn’t know how to ask for. Part of her rebelled at the way her hips had begun to roll, the way she was letting herself practically pant so he knew she liked what he was doing. This is wrong! Her mind screamed at her. She was losing the war with her body, content to close her eyes and give in to the sensation.

Fingertips caressed her jaw, dragging Nesta from the stupor of pleasure. She’d seen the man now peering down at her, though she’d all but forgotten. It had been his beautiful face that had lifted her from the snow.

“Open your mouth,” he ordered, slapping her cheek just hard enough to sting. She recognized that cold voice. Death.

She pressed her lips together. His stony face erupted with amusement. Finger pinched her nose, head cocked as his hazel eyes waited for her to open her mouth for a breath. Cassian’s teeth nipped against her clit, causing her to gasp.

“Do as your told,” he ground out from between her legs. “Or I’ll stop.” In that moment, Cassian taking his mouth off her was a fate far crueler than anything she could imagine. It hardly mattered. The moment her lips parted, Azriel slid the tip of his own barred, hard cock against her lips, the head resting against her tongue. He wore a dark tunic over his chest though she could see his arms covered in the same black markings Cassian had on his chest. His lower half was utterly naked, his wings tucked just as tightly against his body as Cassian’s.

She wanted to ask where he’d come from. She hadn’t seen him. Her mind replayed how Cassian’s eyes kept cutting to the door as he’d teased her. Darkness seemed to swirl over Azriel, half hiding him from view. Her mouth widened to take a breath, giving him purchase to slide further and further. She gagged against him, soothed only by the careful, slow strokes of Cassian’s mouth. Azriel put a hand in her hair, holding her in place as she adjusted. She’d only taken half of him. He was just as thick as Cassian yet somehow longer, the proportions of him almost monstrous. “Just like that,” Azriel crooned when Nesta figured out how to breathe through her nose despite having him lodged so tightly in her mouth. “If you start to suffocate…tap my leg.” As if she could. Cassian chuckled between her thighs, the vibrations settling tightly in her clitoris. She moaned, eyes wide on Azriel’s face. His hazel eyes shuttered, other hand reaching for her face to caress her jaw.

“You’re pretty with my cock in your mouth,” he told her, his praise doing something for her. She squirmed, saliva pooling down her chin. The glide of him out of her mouth let her take another deep breath, her tongue running the thick length of him before swirling over his head. He groaned softly. “Will you be good for me, little witch?” he murmured, pushing himself an inch further into her throat. Nesta pulled against her restraints, moaning again when Cassian’s tongue pushed into her pussy, filling an ache she’d been trying to articulate. That’s what she’d been missing.

She wanted to be filled.

Nesta nodded, connecting her willingness to do as Azriel said to the pleasure between her thighs. Azriel groaned again, using his hands to hold her head completely still. He was doing all the work, his hips thrusting his cock gently into her throat. He’d hold her in place with each new inch, forcing her to fight against the gagging while Cassian used his tongue to fuck her, creating the strangest sensation between pain and pleasure. She liked when Azriel pushed another inch in, even though it made it harder to breathe, because it meant Cassian would drag his tongue from her clit, his fingers holding her wide open, and fuck her through the pain until she was relaxed and writhing against his face.

Only when Azriel’s stomach was flush against her, nose touching his taut abs, did Cassian replace his tongue with his fingers, his tongue working her clit harder and faster than before. It was exquisite, the space she existed in that moment. Cassian was moaning between her legs, eating her as if he were a wild animal while Azriel began to pump himself in and out of her throat. Nesta wanted it, even as her hands fisted against her restraints, pulling so hard she was chafing her skin. She would have screamed had any of them stopped, would have done exactly as Cassian warned her and begged him to keep going.

“Swallow it,” Azriel ordered, as if he sensed how close Nesta was building towards a peak she could do nothing but fall from. “Be a good girl and swallow my come.” She moaned, grinding hard against Cassian’s face. Nesta came just as Azriel did, her screaming muffled against his cock in her mouth, pouring salty, warm come straight down her throat. She couldn’t have spit it out if she’d wanted to. Nesta went limp as Azriel withdrew himself, gasping desperately for air. She pulled uselessly against her restraints only once, eyes closed as she floated. She’d never felt half as good in her life though she suspected she ought to feel used.

She could hear Cassian chuckle darkly. “What did I say?” he asked, his hands rough against her ankles.

She didn’t bother to speak. It was over now. They’d had their fun, would leave her to sleep and, if she was lucky, figure out a new plan for escape.

“She thinks we’re done,” Azriel murmured, his cold hands running up her thighs. Nesta’s eyes flew open just as he removed his shirt, his dripping cock still hard in his hand. Cassian had unbound her ankles and when Azriel stepped between her thighs, Nesta kicked him hard in the face.

Dark, cool shadow licked over her body as Azriel grinned, blood trickling from his nose. “Vicious little thing. Not so good now.”

“I know how to fix that,” Cassian growled. Azriels shadows tied around her shins and thighs, keeping her legs wide open and parted for their enjoyment. Azriel slid a long finger through her trembling, swollen pussy with delighted eyes.

“Tie her to the floor,” Azriel ordered. “I want her on my face.”

“Cassian—” Nesta began but it was no use. With a flick of his wrist he’d undone the iron shackling her and was dragging her down the bed by her waist. She couldn’t reach for anything, her wrists bound tightly by the same tickling shadows around her legs. Tendrils caressed her breasts, kissed over her pussy, before wrapping themselves around her neck. Nesta felt electric, like a live wire as they brought her to the floor to face the headboard. She was too curious about the dark tendrils holding her, dragging her arms back to their posts and binding her as Azriel slid between the wood and her body.

Cassian spread her legs, one hand flying towards her ass. He smacked roughly, eliciting a gasp as Azriel’s fingers tugged gently against her breast. It was the same game. Pain and pleasure, bound up inexorably until she craved them both. Another smack stung her backside just as Azriel pressed a kiss against her neck, fingers still tugging her sensitive nipples.

“You’re so pliant,” he murmured, his praise snaking through her. Cassian’s hand slid up her spin, bending her until her face was buried in the blanket. She was eye level with Azriels cock again and wondered if he didn’t mean to make her suck. The thought had some appeal.

He lowered himself, his eyes never leaving hers. They mocked her, as if to demand she recognize the honor it was to have them both kneel before her this way.

“I can’t fuck her,” Cassian murmured, his fingers sliding between her cheeks. “Not yet…not like this.”

“Sounds like your problem, not mine,” Azriel replied, hands on her thighs as he settled beneath her. She could feel his breath against her still trembling pussy, still far too sensitive to take any more touching.

“Please don’t—”

Azriel’s dark laugh silenced her. “Trust me. You’ll be grateful I’m here.”

“Warm her up,” Cassian ordered, his hand leaving her ass for only a moment. The feel of him was replaced by warmth—something far wetter than his mouth. Nesta couldn’t look over her shoulder and see what he did. The shadow around her neck tightened until she gasped, keeping her splayed out exactly as she was. At their mercy.

Azriel’s fingers began to play with the swollen bud apexed at her legs. Nesta tried to squirm away, unable to take even the softest of stimulation. Cassian chuckled, parting her ass cheeks. “Relax, wife.” “Cassian—” she was rendered silent, another thick band of shadow wrapping around her mouth. She could only grip the blankets against the intrusion of his fingers, her breath choking in her throat.

“Fucking tight,” Cassian moaned to himself, working another finger into the tight hole. “You will be the death of me.”

He slid his fingers in and out of her slowly, letting her adjust just as Azriel had. While he worked, Azriel’s own fingers carefully brushed over her clit, over her still drenched opening, teasing and touching until her sensitivity began to ebb and her hips began to press into the heel of his hand.

“So responsive,” Azriel purred. “Do you crave being touched like this?”

She couldn’t answer. Some part of her wondered why she didn’t feel more humiliation at being used for their pleasure. Perhaps it was the way they seemed bound and determined that she might enjoy herself right along with them. Azriel didn’t come until she did…and she suspected Cassian wouldn’t, either.

Azriel’s shadows had taken on a life of their own, splintering from her restraints to caress her, the cool bite against her now too hot skin drawing new moans from her. She hardly noticed when Cassian inserted a third finger, swearing softly to himself. She’d all but forgotten what he might be doing, why his hands might be necessary.

Cassian withdrew his fingers just as Azriel slid one of his own in, hissing when she tightened around him. His hand in her pussy felt right, didn’t have the unusual pushing feeling of an unwelcome intruder like Cassian had. Using only that finger, Azriel pumped lazy strokes, his tongue darting out to flick against her clit.

“I understand the obsession,” he murmured. “Do all mortal women taste this way?” “I wouldn’t know,” Cassian grunted. She felt the head of his cock slide between her ass. Nesta writhed, trying to avoid the inevitable

“I want to feel her on my cock,” Azriel groaned, working a second finger in as Cassian pushed the head of his cock into her clenched ass. He smacked her again, the sting immediately soothed by the soft touches of Azriel’s mouth. She wiggled against them both, trying to get away until the cord around her neck felt like fingertips, squeezing so tight the edges of her vision blurred.

“Relax,” Cassian crooned, rubbing a hand over the place he’d just slapped. “Just like that, fierce little wife. You don’t have to fight me. Let me make you feel pleasure.” It was utter surrender to do exactly as he said. She couldn’t fight any longer, too tired, too desperate. Nesta pushed out her hips until Azriels face was buried just as Cassian’s had once been. He wasn’t half as elegant, licking and fucking with a near manic purpose. It was clear he intended to make her come as quickly as he could, dragging her towards the edge with a precision that left her breathless and sobbing. She could only moan, taking Cassian’s cock inch by inch as Azriel worked over her. The pain stopped her from coming as quickly as she might have, balancing her on a knifes edge. Nesta didn’t think there could possibly be an inch more of Cassian, and still he pushed, giving her only a moment between each new movement of him to adjust to the stretch.

He bottomed out with a dig of his fingers in the flesh of her ass just as Nesta came, screaming a plea for Azriel to stop. Her legs shook, bound in place despite her desperation to close them. Azriel kept going, ignoring the way her body convulsed, determined to wring whatever he could get from her.

Everything became heightened the moment Cassian pulled himself only halfway, sliding back into her body. He groaned loud enough even the wind seemed to still, filling the room with the sounds of his pleasure. Nesta couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. She buried her face into the blanket, eyes screwed shut as a new orgasm rolled over her, more intense than the first two.

“Fuck me,” Azriel snarled, lifting himself from between her legs. His mouth was glossy and when he fisted a hand in her hair to kiss her, it wasn’t because he felt compelled to be sweet. His tongue pried open her teeth, delving into her throat so she might taste was he did.

Cassian never stopped thrusting, though they were careful—measured. It might have been sweet, had she not told him no more times than she could count.

Azriel slid up the bed, his cock practically twitching. In the warm glow of the lights, she noted the way the same markings on his shoulders and arms adorned the soft brown skin of his cock. He caught her staring. “You like?”

She didn’t know. It hardly mattered. Azriel was beckoning her, his shadows dragging her upwards slowly so Cassian wasn’t forced from her. Nesta crept carefully until she was straddling his thighs, her arms bound behind her back.

“Go carefully,” Cassian grunted, one hand resting on her shoulder. “She’s untouched.”

“Where did you find her?” Azriel demanded, using one hand to tease her oversensitive clit. Nesta couldn’t do anything but moan, certain if he put his massively thick cock into the rest of her she’d split in two.

“Go see Lucien after this. He’ll tell you exactly where to find these women.”

“I will,” Azriel groaned, using one hand to guide her down on him. Cassian stilled as Nesta worked to take them both, her head dropping to her chest. Azriel lifted a hand, removing the gag from her mouth but it was Cassian, mouth pressed to her ear, he spoke. “Is it good for you?” “Yes,” she agreed, hardly able to say another word.

“Are you in pain?” he demanded, as if she hadn’t been feeling some sort of pain the entire time they’d been together.

“No,” she breathed, wiggling her hips and clenching around them both to illustrate her point. Both Cassian and Azriel exhaled in unison, their hips moving as though they were speaking mind to mind. Perhaps they wore. Nesta was long past caring, not when shadow was still wrapped around her, caressing her tight breasts and licking airy kisses against her swollen clit. Pleasure mingled with her pain until Nesta couldn’t tell the difference anymore. And when Cassian pressed her back against his sweaty chest, using a hand to tilt her head so he might kiss her, she let him with enthusiasm. His tongue caressed her own, tasting and teasing until she was overwhelmed by sensation, lost to the moment. Whoever she’d been before this night was gone, replaced by a creature that lived and died by the touch of his hand, but the feel of his skin. “Wife,” he breathed, teeth biting sharply against her lower lip. Nesta was coming apart at the seams, struggling to accommodate the pair of them. She could feel the slide of their cocks, separated only by a thin membrane of skin. The sensation threatened to drive her wild, to make her mad with need. “Say it. Say you’re mine,” Cassian demanded.

“Yours,” she agreed, hips bucking against Azriel’s shadows still playing with her clit.

“You’re going to come for me,” he groaned, forehead resting against her shoulder. Azriel used both hands to held guide her on him, eyes half-lidded as he watched her. One hand reached for her breasts, alternating between her nipples and kneading the hot, slick flesh.

“It’s too much,” Nesta moaned, head thrown back. “I can’t, it’s too—” “You will,” he ordered, replacing the shadow around her neck with his hand. Cassian squeezed as the soft blowing on her clit intensified and Nesta came again, her screams filling the room. She was exhausted and spent, certain there was nothing left for her. Cassian came as she did, pulling back so Azriel, too, could finish on her skin. They let her collapse face first onto the mattress, the restraints vanishing from her limbs.

She was free and yet she couldn’t have moved an inch if she wanted to.

“I suppose I’ll visit our greedy brother,” she heard Azriel murmured, his voice thick and far away to her ears. Something warm touched her back where their come dripped, wiping her gently.

“Don’t return to my home,” Cassian ordered. “Keep a closer watch on your wife,” Azriel crooned. “She nearly died today. How very fortunate I arrived when I did.” Cassian’s snort betrayed that he knew exactly why and how Azriel intervened when he did. Azriel walked to the edge of the bed, lifting her chin with a finger. He pressed a kiss to her mouth, so sweet she almost forgot what he’d spent the last few hours doing to her. “See you soon, sweet witch.” The bed dipped beneath Cassians weight. Nesta didn’t fight him, letting his arm drag her against his chest.

“Now what?” she whispered, struggling to keep her eyes open. “Will you let me go now?”

He pressed a kiss to the nape of her neck,

“Not on your life, witch. Not on your life.”

#nessian #nesta x cassian #honestly feel like this is one of those things that should have stayed in the drafts #you asked and i answered #what would happen if cassian ever got his hands on nesta???#no one look me directly in the eye after this

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