ACOTAR One~shots [Discontinued, Will be deleted]

Pure Pleasure

Feyre has been thinking about Illyrian wings for a long time, now. Most specifically, Rhy's wing. She wants to know if it's possible to hit the right spots on them and...make Rhys love her even more, if possible. Two-in-one: read first Feyre's POV and then Rhy's.

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Pure Pleasure – Feyre POV’s

“I want to try something” I said against his lips.
“Try what?” asked Rhys, moving from my lips and planting small but powerful kisses along my jaw. He reached my neck and rasped my skin with his tongue and teeth. I lost my line of thought. “Feyre?” He called my attention, teasing. I could feel his lips smiling against my skin. He noticed that what he was doing was starting to affect me more and more.
I snapped free –barely- from the grip his kisses held on my body, and pushed him a little by the shoulder with my hands. Both to steady myself and give my thoughts a bit of room.
“Do you trust me?” I asked and he immediately look into my eyes.
“Yes.” There was no doubt in his voice. As I started smiling, he looked at me with a raised brow. “What are you thinking about, you wicked thing?”
I was a little wary of what I wanted to do with him, but I’d been thinking about it for so long now, and we were completely alone in the house, something that didn’t happen very often these days.
I leaned into his right side, and though he was still caressing my naked back with his hands, he went still when I asked him “Will you do as I say?”
“I’d do whatever you requested of me” Famine filled his eyes, and both my heart and my smile grew bigger.
“Then come” I commanded as I stepped away from his embrace and grabbed his hand, walking backwards to the bed. I could feel he was intrigued, but totally open to me, trusting in every step I gave with his big wings wide open in his back.
I sat on the bed, still holding his hand in mine, and brought him towards me as I laid on it. He held his weight with his arms, his hands on either side of my body. I parted my legs, allowing him to rest his between them. He went to make a move to position himself inside me, but I stopped him.
“No,” I said, and wrapped a hand around him to his back, “come here”. I made some pressure there to lower him onto me, and he did as I requested. He lowered till his forearms supported his weight and I removed my hand from him when his stomach touched mine. The silent command he obeyed, as well as the spoken one when I said “Kiss me”.
“How?”
I shouldn’t have expected less of him, playing along with this little game I had been scheming in my mind, fantasizing with it for some time now. I could still see in those vibrant violet eyes of his, a question as to what I really wanted to do with him, but he spoke nothing of it. Only followed me.
“Slowly” I said is a hushed voice, and he lowered his head till his lips brushed mine. Gently. We were both looking at each other’s eyes, not breaking contact. My hands were on his shoulders, but I didn’t move them one inch, giving him a little control, but for the last time. He, of course, didn’t know that.
Rhys kissed my lips as I had told him to do it, and gently pressed his tongue on my lips, asking for permission in. I closed my eyes and opened my mouth lo let him in, and he tenderly kissed me. Our lips were dancing, and I could tell he was aroused, by both the dancing and the game, the intrigue of not knowing what I was to do to him.
I peeked my eyes open and saw his were shut, dedicated to the kissing. I took my chance to start the game.
I gently moved my hands through his shoulder, slowly, as to not to make him aware of nothing more but the kiss. As to not to make him conscious of what I was about to do. I stretched my hands toward the base of his wings and brushed my fingertips on them.
He jerked at the contact with a barked “Feyre-”, but I didn’t let him finish as I put both my hands on his cheeks to stop him from getting too far away from me.
“Do you trust me?” I asked him again.
Rhys was breathing a little too fast now, and his wild eyes were locked on mine, fully understanding what all this was. I was open to him now, and he saw it there, my reason to be doing this.
I wanted to know if it was true what he had said, all those months ago. I wanted to know if it was possible for an Illyrian to reach orgasm by just caressing his wings. For him to find pure pleasure in the touch of my fingers on his wings.
He relaxed muscle by muscle, his eyes never leaving mine, and his answer came in a hushed breath: “Completely.”
I let go of my breath, unaware I had been holding it. His answer and the look in his eyes made my love for him grew more. I smiled at him, assuring him that I would not hurt him, that I only wanted to make him feel pleasure.
“If you want me to stop” I told him “just tell me and I’ll stop.” Despise everything, I wanted to reassure him that I knew the importance of his wings and what this meant to him.
He gave me a small nod.
A few seconds later, he was slowly lowering himself on me, once again. He was a bit nervous –Rhysand was nervous- so I stroked his cheeks and whispered “Kiss me” once again.
He started kissing me, slow, and brought a hand to my face, wanting to touch me more. I distracted him from what I was about to do: I caressed his tongue with mine, held his lower lip between my teeth as he started moving his hand towards my neck. It was now or never. If he continued to touch me and kiss me as he was doing right now, my hands may forget to do what they were supposed to be doing. I’d been already too nervous all day about doing this –I had been thinking about doing this all day long-. How do I do it? Will my hands be too cold, too hot? Will he hate the way I touch his wings? Will he hate me for trying to do it –do this- to his precious wings? I discarded my thoughts.
I reached again for the base of his wings and as I brushed them, he stiffed and stilled the kiss, though he didn’t push away this time. His breath was uneven against my lips and his eyes were on mine, looking me intently. Nothing even close to the hatred I’d been scared of. I took it as my signal and moved again.
I touched his wings, gently grabbing them and slowly moving my hands up.
I noticed his breath become deep, his tendrils open to let more air in, his eyes shut. I was looking at his face -separated a few inches from mine- the entire time, making sure he was feeling comfortable. His jaw clenched, and his length, that had been lying between his and my legs, began to harden. I realized, then, that he was starting to enjoying this more and more, despise my fear of him rejecting my touch.
I reached the membrane of his wings and slowly run my fingers up to his bones and down again. A groan escaped Rhys’ lips and his body trembled a bit. His arms and torso were still stiff, bearing the weight of his body and the pleasure of my touch.
I started to think this may be too much, feeling my hands shuddering, too. But Rhys opened his eyes and looked right into mine, making my heart jump in its ribcage at the realization. It wasn’t me that was trembling. His wings were.
My body began to respond to what I was doing to him. Rhys was sweating and his breath was ragged. And my pulse and breathing were speeding up and I was becoming wet.
I run my hands though the most sensitive places, realizing where they were by the spasms in Rhys body and wings. I made circles with my fingers on a particularly sensitive area near where his wings’ skin began and he swore in a long exhale.
It sent shivers down my spine knowing my touch could do this to him, was doing this to him; knowing his back was arching towards my hands asking for more, more, more.
His length was rock hard against me now, and he groaned again. Louder.
“Feyre...” he said my name in a long exhale, and I heard agony in his voice.
“Do you want me to stop?” I asked, and stilled my hands. The fear had managed to slither in me again, making me think that perhaps this was more like torture to him, that this wasn’t right.
“No” his voice rough, breath ragged and eyes fixed on mine. They had a ravenous glow, and I could see the plea in them, and then he voiced it in a low, growling way: “Please- Don’t stop.”
I was so, so wet, and I knew he knew it, too. Never taking my eyes off him, I saw he sniffed in between ragged breaths, and his cock twitched against me.
Rhys’ arms weakened and he had lo lower more to stand it all. And when he did, his chest brushed my nipples and I gasped. They became hard, harder than I ever knew it was possible. I slacken on my touch, and that gave him time to make a move, to rub them in the only possible way: with his own chest. I moaned, and he then moved his hips, rubbing his cock on my entrance. My eyes shut and a loud moan escaped my lips. He knew how to play, too.
I felt a low chuckle and his breath on my face and I snapped, returning my hands to its task. He instantly shuddered and laid his frown on mine, sharing my breaths. He rested his chest onto mine, too, no doubt aroused by my nipples as my chest rose and fell, my lungs hard to fill, but still unable to do anything but to tremble at the pleasure. His hands were fists in the sheets by my side.
With every growl, every shudder, every ragged breath, Rhys was losing control. It wasn’t just the sensitive spots, but also the way I moved my hands, the pressure I put on his skin, that gave him pleasure; his response to my touch. And I remembered every response, so that I could use it later to make this his most marvelous orgasm ever. He repeated my name again, and I realized it wasn’t pain I had heard in his voice the first time: it was satisfaction. He was so close to it, his cock throbbing against me. And I was so aroused that I knew I would lose it soon, too. The sound of my name in his lips was blood to my veins, it was my undoing.
He was a bit stiff but still trembling, panting, trying to bring air into his lungs for what he knew was about to come. He didn’t know, tough. He wasn’t even close to know. And still, he suddenly rose his head, pushing himself up a bit with his arms, and locked eyes with me. Color rose to both our faces as our orgasm was on the edge.
It hit me so hard then, the pleasure his body was enduring, the one I was the cause of, and that he wanted to finish this time with me, looking me in the eyes. And so, as I touched his wings, caressed them for the last time, he exploded, finishing on me and roaring like I’d never heard him do it before. I too, came, and clung to him, leaving my nails marked on his back.
Rhys collapsed on me, burying his head in the crook of my neck, his breathing uneven against my skin.
Several seconds passed, and when we were starting to catch out breaths, he spoke with his voice muffled, tired.
“You cruel-“ he began, but stopped and sucked in a breath as I caressed his wings again. I had seen him slowly moving them up again, and this time it only took two gentle strokes from my fingers to make him cum again. A rasped half-roar, half-cry erupted from deep down his throat, his teeth grazing my neck.
His hands clenched against my side and his talons scratched my arms as pleasure crippled him to the bed and to my side again. I lowered my hands.
Breathe. That was all we could do. Bring air into our burning lungs.
After some time, he finished saying what he hadn’t been able to say before:
“…beautiful thing…”
I chuckled, and felt him smile against my skin.
“You broke me apart and then put together every piece, bit by bit.” He said in a hushed voice, and my heart made a jump in my chest.
Slowly, almost painfully, Rhys removed his body from over mine after a long time of resting, tough he embraced me with his arm.
“I-“ as if he could barely do it, he raise his head until our eyes met. “I love you, Feyre.”
“I love you too, Rhys.”
Every time he and I made love, I was filled with ecstasy and happiness. But never before had I been so blissful –and tired-, and I somehow knew he felt the same way.
I locked my fingers with his, and as our bodies relaxed, the only other thing we were able to do that night, was fall sleep.