A Court of Smut and Song

Yes, High Lord (feyre x rhysand)

Summary: Rhysand comes home drunk one night and reminds Feyre just how great being with the High Lord of the Night Court can really be.

"Your pretty little cunt was all I could think about the whole time I was gone," Rhys murmurs against my lips, hands reaching down between my thighs. His fingers part my folds, sliding down my center gently. I shudder beneath his touch, and Rhys bites down on my bottom lip with a sigh, dragging his teeth and releasing it, pulling back to look at me.
"I thought about the way you taste, how pretty you look when I'm filling you. I thought about how wet you get for me, how you beg and whimper for me." His words heat my core, wetness again pooling at my center.

I lay in bed, dozing and vaguely aware of a sense of movement downstairs. My core heated at the thought of my mate stumbling up those steps any moment now, drunk and sappy. Footsteps echoed in the hallway as I continue to pretend to be asleep. He cracks the door open slowly as if not to wake me.

"Shit," he yelps as he stubs his toe on the corner of the dresser, unable to see where he was going in the dark. I can't help the snort that comes out of my mouth.

"Hi, my love," I say, wiping my eyes and turning over to face him.

Even in the dark, I can tell his cheeks are flushed. His raven hair drapes lazily into his eyes as he offers me a sly grin, pulling his shirt over his head and shoving off his pants. He stood completely naked before me and I bit my lip at the sight, feeling wetness pool at my center just at the sight of him.

He climbed up the bed gently, coming to settle himself between my legs, holding himself up by his arms to gaze down at me. I wrapped my hands around his arms, running them up and down, feeling the cords of his muscles under his tanned skin.

"Hello, Feyre darling," he grins down at me, eyes bleary and glazed. Gods, he was precious when drunk. But I wanted him wild.

I slide my hands slowly down the sides of his torso, fingers lightly grazing his skin. Goosebumps rose on his arms as I did, and his breath hitched in anticipation of my touch, letting me decide when and how this happens.

I pull his hips down against mine and his eyes go wide.

"Feyre," he groaned, leaning forward to kiss me. "Are you not wearing any underwear?" Lightning goes to my core at his words and he pulls back to see my reaction. I bite my lip up at him.

"I wanted to be ready for you when you got home."

He hums, moving his lips to my neck and grinding his hips down onto mine. His painfully hard cock slides through my folds, my wetness coating him.

"My good girl," he purrs into my neck, hand raising to squeeze the sides of my throat as he sensually licked my neck.

"Rhys," I sigh, my eyes fluttering closed and legs lifting to wrap around him to tug him closer to me, desperate to feel every single inch of him against me.

"Feyre darling, I want to make you feel good," he says, eyes locking into mine, waiting for my permission.

"Please," I beg and he groans slightly, moving down my body to kneel between my legs. He tugs the fabric of my skimpy nightgown up and over my head, tossing it to the side and lifting both hands to palm my breasts.

He bent his head to kiss the top of one of them, humming in delight against my skin. I writhed under him, desperate for something, anything.

His tongue circled my nipple slowly, teasing me. He pulled back, the air making his spit cold against my skin. I shivered as he repeated on the other side, tongue gliding around my nipple. Suddenly, he latched his mouth around it, lapping and suckling at me, rolling my nipple under his tongue. A deep groan escaped my lips as I attempted weakly to pull him to me, desperate for any pressure or friction against my pussy.