Against The Wall

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/8575504.

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category: F/M
Fandom: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Relationship: Feyre Archeron/Rhysand
Character: Feyre Archeron, Rhysand (ACoTaR)
Additional Tags: feysand, feysand smut, Feysand Smut Week, NSFW, Wing Kink, Plot
What Plot/Porn Without Plot, feysand drabbles, Smut, Wing job, is that a
thing?, if not it should be, and I'm making it a thing
Language: English
Series: Part 1 of We Are A Song
Stats: Published: 2016-11-17 Words: 884

Against The Wall

by accidentalrambler

Summary

After Rhys tortures her with that wicked tongue of his, Feyre decides to take matters - and
more - into her own hands. And boy, does she have a thing for wings.

Notes

A bit of Feysand smut written for Feysand Smut Week on tumblr. Theme : Wing Kink.

His wings were magnificent.

Strong yet delicate, their dark membranes melting into the night as Rhys hovered above me, his
lips curled in the most annoying smug grin after he’d made me fall apart on his tongue yet again
that night.

Smug Illyrian prick.

I could still see the traces of my own arousal glistening around his mouth and that tongue - oh, that
damn wicked tongue - darting out, licking, tasting me.

Heat pulled in my lower abdomen at the sight, afterwaves of my last orgasm still cursing through
my body. And I could feel myself falling into that place - that glorious state where I was lax and
pliant and spent and yet, I was ready for another chase, a slow torturous ascend to sensual oblivion
and the following fall into the arms of night.

All I could think of were his wings.

“Feyre, darling.” Rhys’ low purr reverberated against my clavicle and my skin sang in awareness,
every nerve ending tingling in anticipation.

And I wanted - no, I craved - to have him slip into me again, smooth and slow and to the hilt, to
feel so deliciously full and stretched and quivering, have his hands and lips and teeth trailing every
inch of my body but -

But he’d have to pay for that wicked tongue of his first.

Her lips were spectacular.

There was a kind of profound artistry in the way they curved, into this smile that was luscious and
mysterious and hungry, the accompanying gleam in her eyes making her look wicked and innocent
at the same time.

In other words, I was well and truly fucked.

Or would be, the thought had time to cross my mind before Feyre - surprisingly agile given her
relaxed post-orgasmic state - sprang to her knees and pressed my chest with her hand, pushing me
off the bed and leading us towards the nearest wall.

I could feel faint flickers of amusement, tinged heavily with flecks of desire and fascination, licking
at our bond, my already hard cock twitching painfully. I wanted - no, I craved - to take her here and
now, fast and hard and dirty, her heavy pants resting on my skin and her sharp teeth buried in my
shoulder.

But I wanted to find what she was up to more. So when she motioned for me to turn around, I did,
placing my hand on the cold surface as her whisper rang in my ear.

“Remember that promise you made me? How you’d fuck me against the wall?” I nodded
cautiously. “It’s my turn now,” Feyre said, her tone both teasing and demanding.

Cruel, beautiful thing.

I might be benevolent. I f you behave - her voice echoed in my mind through our bond and I
couldn’t help that playful grin which emerged on my face at her words.

Hands on the wall, came another demand.

Do your worst, darling. Play with me.

“Oh, I fully intend to.” Her teeth nipped at my earlobe and the twitch in my cock was back again as
I felt her breasts press against my wings.

She was going to be the death of me.

For a moment, the pressure subsided and I could take a breath again, even though my heart was
beating wildly against my chest. And then, my mate’s hands smoothed over my calves, her touch
burning, scorching to the bones as they glided - higher and higher - inch by agonizing inch. Little
circles on the backs of my knees, nails barely scraping on the inside of my thighs, one hand nearing
my throbbing length, the other brushing past my hips and up my spine.

My legs trembled as I rasped, “Feyre.”

I would last seconds if she kept that up, more desperate than a 18-year old Illyrian prick I'd once
been. Shit.

You’re still a prick, you know. Her voice chuckled in my head as her fingers slowly climbed up my
back, to the place at my shoulder blades, caressing the base of my wings with delicate but
deliberate touch.

“I knew,” I somehow managed to croak, “knew you were all - “, she gave another gentle press
against the membrane “ - about my wingspan.”

“So cocky.” I could almost see the smile on those spectacular lips of hers.

“I ha - “ My voice caught in my throat as Feyre reached for my cock with her other hand, closing
around the girth and dragging from base to the tip and back again.

And again.

Again.

Those deft fingers danced along the edges of my wings, careful and thorough, and for the longest
time, no words could get past my lips, only growls and pants and that hoarse roar stirring in my
chest.

Mate. My mate. Mine.

I couldn’t tell whose voice chanted those words like a prayer, mine or hers, or perhaps it was the
both of us, in the cacophony of moans and whispered promises. Her tongue flicking against the
softest, most sensitive corners of my wings and her thumb rubbing the tip of my cock until my
body tipped over the edge and shuddered to the rapid beats of my heart and it beat Feyre.

Feyre, Feyre, Feyre.

The taste of her name on my tongue was almost as sweet as the taste of her.

And I couldn’t wait to kiss my name off those spectacular lips of hers.

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