A Court of Smut and Song

Three Batboys Walk into a Birchin (feyre x all 3 batboys)

Summary: Feyre actually decided to join all three batboys in the Birchin and realized she made the right choice.

"It's okay, my love. Az will be gentle... at first," Rhys murmurs from his seat across the birchin. I nod, stepping closer to Azriel. Taking a deep breath to still myself, I decide I am going to be brave. Swinging one leg at a time over him, I straddle Azriel's lap, mere inches from that beautiful mouth. He groans in quiet approval.

Azriel's hands snake up my thighs to grab my ass. In one rough motion, he pulls me down onto him. My core glides against the length of him and he shudders. One hand moves in between us and grips the sides of my throat, squeezing just enough that it sent a rush of euphoria to my head. He uses his grip on my throat to pull my face down so that our foreheads were touching. He pants into my mouth, attempting to control himself before moving.

"Are you always.." he growls, "this fucking wet, Feyre?"

"Azriel won. His one-hundred-ninety-ninth victory, apparently. The three of them had entered the cabin an hour later, dripping snow, skin splotched with red, grinning from ear to ear. Mor and I, snuggled together beneath a blanket on the couch, only rolled our eyes at them. Rhys just dropped a kiss atop my head, declared the three of them were going to take a steam in the cedar-lined shed attached to the house, and then they were gone. I blinked at Mor as they vanished, letting the image settle.

"Another tradition," she told me, the bottle of amber-colored alcohol mostly empty. And my head now spinning with it. "An Illyrian custom, actually—the heated sheds. The birchin. A bunch of naked warriors, sitting together in the steam, sweating."

I blinked again.

Mor's lips twitched. "About the only good custom the Illyrians ever came up with, to be honest."

I snorted. "So the three of them are just in there. Naked. Sweating." Mother above.

Interested in taking a look? The dark purr echoed into my mind.

Lech. Go back to your sweating.

There's room for one more in here.

I thought mates were territorial. I could feel him smile as if he were grinning against my neck.

I'm always eager to learn what sparks your interest, Feyre darling. "

— Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Frost and Starlight.

And if I were interested?

I would be happy to give you everything you could ever want, he says into my mind. Especially this.

Sounds like maybe it's you that wants it more, I joke. I can feel him purring like a cat through the bond.

Maybe so, Feyre Darling.

A shiver ran up my spine at the thought of the three huge illyrians I'd become so close with touching me, worshipping me. I would be lying if I said I wasn't at least a little bit intrigued. I tried to imagine the scene in my mind. Would their focus all be on sharing me? Would they share each other? Heat flooded my core at the thought of the three males entangled with one another.

We've been known to, on occasion, Rhys says into my mind with a dark chuckle.

My cheeks heat. I must have been so enthralled in the thought that it had sent down the mating bond. I decided then that I wouldn't let myself pass up this opportunity. I chose to trust the males huddled within the birchin to not ruin our friendship over a sharing of mutual pleasure. They had done this before, I tell myself. Their friendships all seem very much intact.