Take Me With You

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/8534029.

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: F/M
Fandom: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Relationship: Feyre/Rhysand, Feysand - Relationship, Feyrhys - Relationship
Character: Feyre, Rhysand
Additional Tags: Mini Fic, Fluff, Chapter 55 Fluff, Rhys POV
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2016-11-12 Words: 736

Take Me With You

by illyriantremors

Summary

Just a quick look at how Rhys processed his time with Feyre while she sleeps after they've
mated in that glorious cabin of theirs. Lots of fluff and feels.

Rhysand wakes up first. Then again, he never quite fell asleep. Not really.

They were lucky to fall asleep at all. Back and forth they passed the night, two stars blurring and
burning their way across the sheets while the clock ticked down on their return to camp.

The queens were waiting.

He needs to get up. His mind tells him it’s nearly time to go. But his body doesn’t want to. His
body screams at him to stay with Feyre wrapped between his arms, his wings cocooning them
together in their nest.

Mates.

The word had been what really kept him awake for the pitiful hour Feyre slept. He didn’t want to
miss one single moment of her. Any second he might blink and find Amarantha looking back at
him, the illusion shattered.

So he focused on her hair, sticking with sweat or water from their bath together, he couldn’t tell
which.

He focused on her freckles, traced constellations between them until their story was written across
her skin, penned by his fingertips. She had four extra stars on her left cheek than the right.

He focused on the way her head leaned at an angle so it could rest against his bicep as she slept.
He brushed the hair away from her neck just to see the stretch of her muscles more times than he
could count.

He focused on her ears, now pointed and fae and exactly like his own. The same ears he’d seen
when he’d given her his spark and watched her wake up. The ones that told him she was a part of
him now.

He focused on her breathing, the subtle way her breasts rose and fell with each little breath sending
curls of air onto his chest. He could have warmed the world with that breath.

He focused on the way she held him tight, never imagining such a thing as letting go existed. Her
arm wrapped around his waist hanging in the void between his back and wings. Every now and
then if he breathed just right and pushed his wing just so, her fingertips would skim the membrane
unaware and he would bite his lip to keep from shuddering lest he wake her up.

He focused on the way her legs knotted with his right down to the tips of her toes. They were so
cold! He fidgeted going back and forth from foot to foot wrapping them in his own until he’d
warmed them up, taken all of her cold and absorbed it.

He focused on the heat where their stomachs connected, the skin smooth and whole not because
the scars of battles and victories lost were gone, but because they fit. They matched. They merged.

He focused on the scent of her. His scent. His mate. There was pine from when she had hunted,
grass from the days of Spring, wild spices from Velaris, and when he inhaled deeply at the crook of
her neck, he found the hint of himself hiding in the citrus and jasmine rolling off of her. And he
decided he wanted it all - every scent that spilled her blood upon the pages of history and sung the
story of who this woman had become.

But most of all, he focused on the calm peace of her face. There would be no nightmares tonight.
No waking up and running blindly for the bathroom. No need to hold her hair back or kiss away
the tears. Tonight Feyre was free of everything and everyone save herself. She had everything she
needed right there in front her and she dressed herself decadently in it, content never to move from
this spot. Never to let go again.

To never move from her mate.

Take me with you, Rhys weeps down the bond. To her past. To her present. To her future. Take me
with you.

The bond stirs - no longer just a feeble bargain disguised in tattoos and monthly visits. The mate
bond is alive between them, reborn out of ashes and flying wild through the skies, a phoenix taking
flight for the first time with every feather, bone, and muscle in its proper place and Rhysand felt
like he could soar to the highest peaks because of it.

Eyelashes fluttering. Heart beating. Fingers nimbly searching. A catch of his scent. A brush of his
touch.

And Feyre woke to her mate.

xx

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