Work Text:
Feyre stood outside Lucien's door, her hand trembling as she raised it to knock. She had to ensure that her performance was believable; that she could convince Lucien about these nightmares that had plagued her for weeks. Nightmares that were relentless in their pursuit, leaving her shaken and exhausted. That Feyre needed someone, anyone, to chase away the shadows that lurked in the corners of her mind.
With a deep breath, she rapped on the door, the sound echoing in the quiet hallway. A moment later, the door swung open, revealing Lucien's concerned face. He was bare from the waist up, his golden skin bathed in the soft glow of candlelight. His eyes widened in shock as he took in the lace dress that did little to conceal Feyre’s body. Lucien swallowed hard before he spoke, his mouth suddenly dry as he took in the sight of her disheveled hair & lack of clothing.
"Feyre," he said, surprise, worry, & something else evident in his voice. "Are you alright?"
She shook her head, feigning that terror had gripped her heart, & made her unable to speak. Without a word, Lucien stepped aside, allowing her to enter his room. She sank onto the edge of his bed, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle over her like a suffocating blanket.
Lucien closed the door behind them while keeping his eyes on Feyre; his evident concern shown on his face. He stared at her trembling form, then slowly walked towards her & sat beside her on the bed. He reached out a hand, his fingers hovering uncertainly in the air before finally finding their mark on her trembling hand. His touch was gentle, as if to shield her from the tremors that coursed through her.
Feyre’s breath hitched at his touch, her heart stuttering in her chest as she felt the warmth of his hand enveloping hers. Lucien’s eyes softened, brushing a strand of hair away from her face, his touch sending a wave of comfort coursing through her veins. "What happened?" he asked softly, his voice a soothing balm to her frayed nerves.
Feyre swallowed the lump in her throat, her voice barely a whisper. "Nightmares," she admitted, feeling a sense of vulnerability wash over her. Lucien leaned towards Feyre, his lips lightly grazing her ear. "You're safe here," he whispered, his face closer than before. "I won't let anything harm you."
Feyre fluttered her eyes shut at his warmth, letting herself be enveloped by the comfort of his embrace. For the first time in weeks, she felt a sense of peace, like a beacon of light cutting through the suffocating darkness. She leaned into Lucien’s embrace, and rested her head on his strong shoulders, the scent of him filling her senses. “Lucien,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “How bad was it in my absence? Did Tamlin…” Her sentence faltered as Lucien wrapped a protective arm around her, pulling her into him. As Lucien drew her into his embrace, Feyre found herself acutely aware of the warmth of his skin against hers, sending a shiver down her spine. His muscles, sculpted by years of training and the rigors of battle, exuded a quiet strength that enveloped her, igniting a primal warmth deep within her core. Nestling closer to him, she couldn't help but recall the intimacy of their shared moments, the memory of their bodies entwined in a tent, alone, still fresh in her mind. The sensation of his touch lingered, a potent reminder of the unspoken bond that had formed between them—a bond that transcended mere friendship, hinting at something deeper, something infinitely more complex.
"My family," he began, his voice tinged with a rawness that echoed the scars of his past, "would torment me every single day, treating me with nothing but disdain and cruelty. I never felt like I had a home.” Feyre's heart ached at his words, her fingers intertwining with his. She could sense that Lucien's wounds ran far deeper than the physical, the ghosts of his past haunting him with every breath.
"I had days where I thought the Gods had forsaken me, condemned me to a life of endless suffering." Tears glistened in his eyes, a silent testament to the trauma he had endured since childhood. Feyre's touch was gentle as she cupped his face in her hands, her thumb brushing away the tears that threatened to spill over. "But then Tamlin took me in," Lucien whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "He offered me a home, a sanctuary from the horrors of my past. For the first time in a long while, someone saw me, truly saw me, and believed that I was worthy of more than the pain and misery that had defined my existence."
A tear trailed down Lucien's cheek, and Feyre's heart clenched at the sight, her fingers instinctively reaching out to wipe it away with a gentle touch. Her caress was a balm to his wounded soul, offering a momentary respite from the weight of his burdens. Lucien leaned into her hand, his lips brushing against the soft skin of her palm in a gesture that caught her by surprise. Her breath caught in her throat as she felt the warmth of his lips against her skin, a sensation that seemed to linger long after he had pulled away. Feyre's touch was gentle as she placed her hand on Lucien's back, her fingers tracing soothing patterns against his skin. With a quiet strength, Lucien composed himself, his gaze meeting hers with a depth of emotion that resonated in the silence between them.
"I felt like I owed Tamlin everything," he confessed, his voice a mixture of gratitude and remorse. "A debt that binds me to him, a debt that I can never fully repay him for." His words hung heavy in the air, a reminder of the complexities of their intertwined fates. "And then you came along, this exquisite, beautiful, stubborn, witty thing," Lucien continued, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "And you fought for us, Feyre. You freed us.” There was a certain magic in the way he spoke her name, a melody that resonated with the deepest parts of her soul.
“But then Tamlin got his powers back," he went on, his expression darkening with a shadow of sorrow. "And I began to notice... his paranoia, his possessiveness over you." Lucien's voice faltered, the weight of his words settling like a stone in the pit of Feyre's stomach as she remembered. "It was like Tamlin became a shadow of his former self," he murmured, his eyes clouded with pain. "And he couldn't process his trauma or pain anymore. And he took it out on me. But worst of all, he took it out on you." The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of their shared anguish, a silent plea for understanding in the face of unspeakable sorrow.
"I noticed," Lucien's voice was heavy with regret as he spoke, each word weighed down by the burden of his observations. "I noticed that you lost weight. I noticed the misery that lived in your eyes. I noticed the deep purple circles under your eyes." His gaze bore into hers, a silent plea for understanding, for forgiveness. "I saw you begging him," he continued, his voice raw with emotion, "begging him to allow you to hunt, to make you involved in the affairs of the court. And I tried. I tried to fight him, to beg him to stop this paranoia, to stop treating you like this." His words were a desperate plea, a futile attempt to break through the walls of Tamlin's madness and reclaim the man they had once known.
"But he wouldn't listen," Lucien murmured, his voice tinged with sorrow. "He was so hell-bent on breaking your bargain with Rhysand, on keeping you under his watch. And I felt his shift in character, I fully realized it then - how gaining his power back had changed him into a man I didn’t recognize.”
Lucien continued, his voice barely above a whisper, "I heard the windows break that night in the art room." Fear gripped his heart at the memory, a cold knot of dread tightening in his chest. "And I was terrified," he admitted, his voice trembling with emotion, "terrified that he would hurt you. The thought was so unbearable, unthinkable—but then he locked you in the house," Lucien continued, his voice thick with anguish, "and I snapped. I fought," Lucien confessed, his voice choked with tears, "I fought with Tamlin, begged him to see reason. And he looked at me," Lucien whispered, his voice breaking with sorrow, "with so much disappointment. I was afraid. I was afraid he would throw me out. That my brothers would find me, and torture me in all the ways they promised back Under the Mountain."
"I felt Tamlin's disapproval, his anger with me. And I felt like I was betraying him; the man that gave me my freedom. That I was forgetting the debt I owed him. And I was a coward," Lucien admitted, his voice trembling with shame, "I'm so sorry for making you think that I didn't notice. That I didn’t care." The words spilled from his lips like a confession, a desperate plea for absolution.
"I always noticed," he whispered, his voice barely above a whisper, "whenever it comes to you, I always notice. I'm so sorry, Feyre," Lucien choked out, his voice thick with tears, "I'm so fucking sorry." His lips quivered as he finished the sentence, the weight of his remorse bearing down on him like a crushing weight. He buried his face within the curve of Feyre's neck, seeking solace in the warmth of her embrace as he continued to unravel the tangled threads of his confession. Feyre's fingers threaded through his hair with a tender reassurance, patiently waiting as he continued. Lucien lowered his head, his breath warm against the sensitive spot at the curve of her neck. It was a moment teetering on the edge of something unspoken, a whisper of intimacy that hung in the air like a promise yet to be fulfilled., "When I heard that you had been taken, that you were with Rhysand, I was fucking relieved. "
"But then Tamlin lost it. He tore apart your room, desperate to reclaim what he lost." The memory was a jagged shard of glass, cutting deep into his heart with the realization of Tamlin's unraveling sanity. "He claims he loves you," Lucien whispered, his voice heavy with sorrow, "but his soul is becoming more wretched by the day. He would've made any bargain," Lucien confessed, his voice tinged with bitterness, "at the cost of his people, his land, to bring you back. By force, if necessary."
Lucien's gaze locked onto Feyre's with a newfound resolve, a glimmer of determination shining in the depths of his eyes. “I don't know what you've been through. The horrors that you’ve faced. But I know," he continued, his voice growing stronger with resolve, "what I must do now." He took Feyre's hand in his own, pressing his lips against her skin in a silent pledge of loyalty and devotion. "I will stand by you," he vowed, his voice ringing with determination, "I will protect you, even if it means deceiving Tamlin, facing his wrath. I will spend my entire lifetime begging for your forgiveness. And I will prove that my loyalty now lies with you."
"Tamlin doesn't deserve you," Lucien concluded, his voice filled with quiet resolve. "He never did."
Lucien's gaze bore into Feyre's with an intensity that betrayed his inner turmoil, his nerves laid bare in the trembling of his hands and the unspoken plea in his eyes. He waited with bated breath, every fiber of his being yearning for her response. "Please," he whispered, the word a desperate plea that hung in the air between them, heavy with emotion. "Say something." The words were barely more than a breath, a fragile thread of hope in the silence that enveloped them.
Feyre's gaze held a weight of determination as she met Lucien's eyes, her expression unwavering as she leaned in to brush her lips against his cheek. The contact made Lucien startle, his body freezing in response to the unexpected touch. "Thank you," she murmured, her voice soft but firm, "for sharing such intimate parts of your life with me. For trusting me with it." Her words carried a sincerity that resonated in the air between them, a silent acknowledgment of the trust they were rebuilding. "I'm still broken and healing," she continued, her voice tinged with vulnerability, "but I trust that you're telling me the truth. That you're sorry, and that you're going to do things differently."
Lucien swallowed, his gaze flickering with emotion as he listened to her words. "I will do anything," he began, his voice filled with determination. "If you want me to kneel before you, if you want me on my knees, just say the word." His gaze burned with a fierce intensity as he dropped his eyes to her lips and then back up to meet her gaze. "Let me prove my loyalty, let me show you how sorry I am." Feyre felt a warmth spread through her at the implication of his words, her heart quickening in response to the fire in his gaze. She shifted slightly from the growing tension in the room, at the heat pooling between her thighs at the intensity of their connection. But then Lucien's expression shifted, his smirk fading as he spoke with a seriousness that belied his earlier bravado.
"Feyre, before - if we begin," he said, his voice gentle but earnest, "I want you to know that we don't have to do this." His words were a reassurance, a reminder that her comfort and consent were paramount. "We can just lay in bed and lie together. I don't want to feel like I'm taking advantage of you after you've had a hard night."
Feyre smiled softly, a warmth spreading through her at his consideration. "The same could be said to you," she replied, her voice gentle but firm. "You laid your soul bare to me tonight. I came to you for comfort, not your body. I came for you." She met his gaze with a steady look, her eyes shining with sincerity. "We don't have to move forward if you're uncomfortable. I wouldn't want to push you either."
"But just know," she added, a teasing glint dancing in her eyes, "that the second you looked at me in this see-through lace gown and licked your lips, I was ready for you to take me." Lucien's eyes darkened with desire, a low growl escaping from his chest. "Are you trying to bring me to my knees?" he asked, his voice thick with desire. "You're okay with it? Are you sure?” Lucien's voice was a low murmur, laced with concern as he searched Feyre's eyes for any hint of hesitation. Feyre nodded as she smiled softly at him. She felt safe with him, and knew he would stop the second Lucien felt her hesitate. “I’ve wanted this the day I laid eyes on you,” Lucien began, his gaze dropping to Feyre’s lips.
Feyre tilted her head, her gaze unwavering as she met his eyes. "You said you would do anything for me?" she asked, a challenge in her tone. "Including getting on your knees?" Lucien nodded, his gaze unrelenting. "Then kneel," she commanded, her voice soft but firm.
Lucien rose from the bed, his movements slow and deliberate as he positioned himself between her legs. He lifted his hands to touch her, but Feyre stopped him by clicking her tongue. "Did I say you could touch me yet?" she asked, her voice teasing. He lowered his hands, his gaze fixed on her with unwavering intensity. "Feyre, let me touch you," he pleaded, his voice a low murmur. "At least let me graze my lips on your beautiful skin. Grant me the pleasure, and the honor."
Feyre smiled, a playful glint in her eyes. "Now, Lucien, where are your manners?" she teased. "You didn't say please."
Lucien's smile widened, a flicker of anticipation dancing in his eyes as he held Feyre's gaze and whispered, "Please." Feyre's heart skipped a beat at the word, her breath catching in her throat as she felt a surge of desire coursing through her veins. With trembling hands, she picked up Lucien's, guiding them to her thighs and urging him closer with a gentle pressure. As his fingers grazed her skin, tracing the contours of her legs, Lucien's eyes remained fixed on their joined hands, his mouth slightly parted in lust. He shifted in his kneeling position as he struggled to find comfort with the undeniable bulge straining against his pants, begging to be released. "Feyre," Lucien's voice was a low rasp, thick with desire as he pleaded with her, "please let me taste you, give me the privilege of fulfilling what I've been dreaming about for months."
His words sent a shiver down Feyre's spine, her core throbbing with anticipation at the intensity in his voice, the pleading look in his eyes. With a silent nod, she acquiesced to his request, her heart pounding in her chest as he took hold of her waist, lifting her effortlessly. Feyre wrapped her arms around Lucien's neck, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he carried her to the bed. Lucien climbed onto the mattress, his movements fluid as he shed his pants, leaving him clad only in his boxers. Feyre's breath caught in her throat as she took in the sight of him, her mouth watering at the prospect of feeling him stretch her to her limits. She licked her lips in anticipation as he positioned himself above her, placing his hands on either side of her head.
With a hunger that mirrored her own, Lucien lowered his face to hers, capturing her lips in a searing kiss that left her gasping for air. She groaned in response, her legs instinctively wrapping around him, pulling him closer. Lucien growled against her lips, realizing that she wasn’t wearing any underwear under the dress. The sound sent a shiver of anticipation down her spine as he ground his length against her, his arousal evident even through the fabric of his boxers. Lucien kissed her with renewed passion, his hand wrapping around her wrists and pinning them above her head.
As he trailed kisses down her neck, Feyre arched into his touch, her breath coming in ragged gasps as he reached her breasts. Gently, he cupped one, flicking his tongue over the hardened peak of the other, eliciting a moan from her lips. Feyre’s hands roamed over his muscled chest, earning a low moan from Lucien as her nails grazed over his sensitive skin. "Feyre," he whimpered, his voice husky with need, as her hand ventured lower, palming his arousal. "Feyre," he moaned, his hips arching into her touch as she continued to tease him, her own desire mounting with each passing moment.
Lucien raised his fingers to Feyre's lips, the touch feather-light as he traced them over the curve of her mouth. With deliberate intent, he prodded them gently against her parted lips, his gaze locked with hers in a silent exchange of desire. He slowly filled her mouth with two of his fingers, as Feyre responded eagerly and swirled her tongue around them, her eyes fluttering closed at the taste of him. In that moment, Lucien felt a surge of primal need wash over him, the urge to claim her overwhelming in its intensity.
Reluctantly, he withdrew his hand from her mouth, tracing a path over her skin, teasing her nipples as Feyre whimpered in response. Downward he trailed his touch, feeling the heat radiating from her core, the evidence of her arousal undeniable. With a low curse, Lucien began to rub her clit, his fingers slick with her wetness, her readiness evident in the way she arched into his touch. Feyre's pleas filled the air as Lucien continued his ministrations, his movements deliberate as he watched her writhe and moan beneath him. "Look at me," he commanded, his voice thick with desire, and Feyre obeyed, her eyes meeting his with a desperate longing. "More," she begged, her voice a husky whisper, "please, more."
With a determined gaze, Lucien curled his fingers while palming her clit, repeatedly fucking Feyre with his hand until Feyre elicited a scream of pleasure as she reached the peak of ecstasy. He maintained his rhythm, his fingers working her relentlessly until she rode out the waves of her orgasm, her body finally relaxing into the sheets. As Feyre stared up at him, her eyes heavy with satisfaction, Lucien began to lower himself, his lips trailing kisses down her stomach. But before he could continue, she halted him with a gentle touch. "Lucien, wait," she said, her voice filled with uncertainty.
He paused, meeting her gaze with concern. "Do you want to stop?" he asked, his voice gentle as he searched her eyes for any sign of discomfort. Feyre shook her head, her fingers threading through his hair as she reassured him. "I want this to be good for you too," she whispered, her voice filled with sincerity. "I want to touch you."
With a soft smile, Lucien continued his descent, his lips pressing against her thighs as he reassured her. "Trust me," he murmured against her skin, "this is better than every fantasy I’ve conjured up in my mind about you. I want to take my time with you." Feyre whimpered at his words, her body tensing with anticipation as he placed a kiss on her clit. “You're drenched, so wet and ready for me,” Lucien said with a rasp in his voice. Feyre watched as he began flicking his tongue on her clit, and slowly entered one finger into her entrance and curled it. “Ah, Lucien. You’re going to - LUCIEN!” Feyre swore as she almost snapped her back in half as her hips lifted off the bed. “Lucien, please. Please fuck me. I can’t wait any longer,” she pleaded.
Lucien continued torturing her as he added a second finger, and began curling it as he lightly sucked on her clit. Feyre's cries of pleasure echoed through the room, the sound seemed to reverberate against the walls, shaking the very foundations of their surroundings. With a predatory grace, Lucien slid up Feyre's quivering form, his lips glistening with anticipation as he captured her mouth in a kiss that left her breathless. The intensity of his passion sent a thrill coursing through her, her stomach flipping with a heady mix of anticipation and desire.
With a swift, almost impatient motion, Lucien tore away Feyre's dress, the fabric falling to the floor in a heap of discarded scraps. There was a primal hunger in his movements as he shed his own clothing, his arousal evident in the way his length strained against the fabric of his boxers. Feyre's mouth watered at the sight of him, her gaze fixed on the impressive size of him, the wetness glistening at the tip. It was a sight that stirred a fierce longing within her, a desperate craving for the intimate connection they were about to share. Feyre's touch was deliberate, teasing as she traced circles along the tip of Lucien's cock, eliciting a soft whimper from him as he lowered his head beside hers, his breath warm against her ear. "Feyre, I'm at my limit," he whispered, his voice thick with desire. Undeterred, she continued to pleasure him, her hand pumping up and down his length as he groaned, his hips bucking into her hand. Feyre cupped his balls with one hand, while continuing to stroke him with the other. "Please, Feyre," he begged, the desperation evident in his voice.
Aligning his cock with her entrance, Feyre rubbed the tip against her clit, a moan escaping her lips at the sensation. Wrapping her legs around him, she slowly pushed him inside, both of them moaning in unison as she felt herself stretched to the limit. Lucien allowed her to adjust to his size, his gaze never leaving her face as he began to slowly push into her, savoring every reaction. Lucien captured Feyre's moans with his mouth, his kisses consuming her as he deepened the connection between them. His tongue danced with hers, exploring every inch of her mouth, igniting a fire within her that burned with a fierce intensity. With each sensual stroke, he left her breathless, his touch setting her aflame with desire.
As he began to slam into her with a brutal rhythm, Feyre clutched onto him, her fingers digging into his shoulders as he reached for a pillow. Placing it under her lower back, he adjusted his angle, eliciting a series of screams and moans from her lips. Lucien lightly pressed on Feyre's stomach, his hand finding just the right angle to send her spiraling. As he lifted the back of one of her knees, her body responded with a primal urgency, her cries echoing in the room as she clutched at the sheets. Removing his hand from her stomach, Lucien brought two of his fingers to his lips, his movements deliberate as he teased her with his sensual display. Feyre watched, mesmerized, as his fingers danced in and out of his mouth before he lowered them to her clit, his touch igniting a fire within her that threatened to consume her entirely.
With each expert stroke of his fingers, Feyre's senses were overwhelmed, her mind clouded with desire as she reached the peak of pleasure once more. She arched her hips, her body trembling with ecstasy as she tumbled into the abyss of orgasmic bliss. As her body sank into the bed, her chest rising and falling with each ragged breath, she was consumed by the intensity of their connection, lost in the euphoria of the moment.
With a growl, Lucien removed the pillow, flipping Feyre onto her stomach and lightly slapping her ass. "Ass up, on all fours," he commanded, his voice rough with desire. Her knees wobbled as she could barely hold herself up. But as Feyre struggled to hold herself up, he adapted, coming up behind her and parting her legs, his movements fluid as he slightly lifted her hips and slid back into her. Feyre's moan was stifled against the bedding as Lucien drove into her with unbridled passion. The intensity of their connection was palpable, her body tightening around him as he fought to maintain control, desperate to prolong the ecstasy as long as possible.
With a primal urge, Lucien grabbed a handful of her hair, gently pulling her face from the bed as he continued to thrust into her with unrestrained fervor. Feyre bit down on her lip as she whimpered and trembled, attempting to suppress her cries of pleasure. "Let me hear you," Lucien commanded, his voice husky with desire as he delivered a sharp slap to her ass. "Don't hide your voice. I want them to hear. I want them all to hear how sweet you sound as I fuck you." As his hand found its way beneath her hips, caressing her clit with skilled precision, Feyre's grip on the sheets tightened, her body trembling with the approach of yet another climax. With a shuddering cry, she succumbed to the overwhelming wave of pleasure, her essence flooding the room as she reached the pinnacle of ecstasy once more.
With a primal roar, Lucien released inside her, the culmination of their passion leaving them both breathless as they collapsed together in a tangle of limbs and tangled sheets. Once their frantic breaths had subsided, Feyre murmured against the bed, "You're quite heavy." Lucien laughed softly, kissing the back of her neck as he slid off of her. Cleaning her up with a damp cloth, he flipped her onto her back and cradled her head against his chest. Lucien kissed her forehead and ran his fingers through her hair as Feyre began falling asleep. As she began to drift off to sleep, he smiled down at her, grateful for the proximity of their rooms.
Her eyes fluttered open once more, a sleepy smile playing on her lips. "Autumn court males really do have fire in their blood," she murmured. Lucien chuckled, his heart light as he replied, "And we fuck like it, too."