#a court of wings and ruin rp | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thewulf · 6 months ago

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Hidden Away || Rhysand

Summary: Request -hi if ur reqs are open, could you maybe write a fic with rhys where feyre is not his mate but reader? can r also be tamlins sister so when he locked feyre up in the manor, he also locked r with her? then r is just trying to break the barrier but shes draining her powers in the process so when mor and rhys arrive, r is just on the brink of passing out. thank you so so much! hope u have a good day!!

A/N: Rhys is challenging! Let me know how you like it below :) As always thank you for the requests!

Pairing: Rhysand x Female Reader (Spring Court Reader/Tamlin's Sister)

Word Count: 8.4k +

TW: Talks of abuse, use of magic

As Tamlin's nearly unknown sister your life within the Spring Court is shrouded in secrecy. Tucked away from the public eye, you roam the silent corridors of the manor with your presence barely acknowledged. The manor's ancient stones, cool under your fingertips, are the closest companions in your secluded existence. Each day bleeds into the next marked only by your secret practice of magic in the hidden corners of the lush gardens where the wildflowers refuse to be tamed.

Tamlin had his reasons for keeping you a secret though they were rooted in a misguided sense of protection and control rather than genuine care. From the moment you were born your existence was cloaked in secrecy. Tamlin was always wary of political machinations and potential threats from rival courts. He believed that hiding your presence would keep you safe from those who might seek to leverage you against him. As you grew older this excuse became a method to maintain control by suppressing any threat your emerging powers might pose to his authority.

Whenever important guests visited the Spring Court Tamlin would go to great lengths to conceal your existence. Often you were confined to the secluded parts of the manor. Your movements restricted. Your voice silenced. These actions weren't just physically isolating. They were deeply wounding, reinforcing a sense of imprisonment. Over time you learned that resistance was futile. After a century of struggling against Tamlin’s overpowering magic, a magic that you could never hope to match due to your suppressed knowledge and training, you ceased fighting back. Your spirit, dimmed by isolation and the relentless dampening of your will, began to fade.

Despite all this you’ve learned to cloak your discontent with a veneer of obedience by teaching yourself the subtle arts of magic from fragments of ancient texts and whispers of the wind. Each spell you cast is a silent rebellion against the isolation imposed upon you. It wasn’t much but it certainly was something.

Meanwhile, Rhysand had always felt an inexplicable pull towards the Spring Court. This sensation was particularly strong whenever he visited Tamlin's lands. Each step within its borders intensified a feeling of latent connection. A thread of destiny that seemed to tug at his very soul. For years he couldn't decipher this feeling instead attributing it to political tensions or his natural distrust of Tamlin. However, he knew the sensation was far deeper. He just didn’t know he was connected to the bond that lay dormant between him and you waiting for the right moment to awaken.

This mysterious pull was part of the mating bond that neither of you were aware of yet. Rhysand’s visits to the Spring Court were unknowingly steps towards his destiny, towards you. His soul recognized what his mind could not yet understand. That his mate was hidden within the very walls of the Spring Court suppressed under Tamlin’s rule. It was a bond that defied explanation, woven by the threads of fate, magic, and a longing that transcended Rhysand's conscious understanding.

The monotony of your hidden life breaks when Feyre returns from Under the Mountain, changed. No longer the mortal girl who once crossed into the fae lands she now carries the weight of her new immortal form along with the haunting shadows of her trials. Initially your interactions are tentative. The air between you charged with the unsaid. However, as time weaves its slow dance you find in her a kindred spirit. Another soul chafing against the constraints of Tamlin’s overprotective nature.

Under the cover of night where the moon casts silver slivers through the windowpanes you and Feyre meet quietly. There in the tranquility of darkness, you share fragments of your lives. Your years spent hidden within these walls and her days under the mountain and the heavy price of her return. Each story shared tightens the thread of understanding between you.

In these stolen moments you reveal to Feyre the secret magic you’ve nurtured. Her eyes, reflecting the glow of your spells, flicker with a mix of surprise and a burgeoning sense of solidarity. Encouraged by her interest you find the courage to dream of more than just secretive practices. Together you whisper of freedom and plot beneath the starry sky. Your magic mingling with her newfound strength.

Tamlin had cast a powerful and intricate spell around the manor. Not just as a means of protection from external threats but also as a method of control over those within its walls. This spell was multi-layered, designed to enforce Tamlin's rule and suppress any dissent. For you it was a tangible manifestation of your confinement. An ever-present force that limited your movements and dampened your inherent magical abilities.

The spell was woven into the very foundations of the manor. Invisible yet oppressively palpable. It acted as a barrier not just against physical entry but against magical influence from outside. And crucially it curbed the magical potential of those it enclosed. For someone like you whose powers had been stifled and knowledge kept minimal the spell represented a severe handicap. A chain around the very essence of your being.

On a stormy night, you and Feyre found yourselves poring over ancient texts and forbidden scrolls. These documents were hidden away in the darkest corners of the library and contained arcane knowledge that Tamlin had likely never intended for you to find. They spoke of old magic, powerful and untamed, the kind that could potentially unravel the complex web of spells Tamlin had cast.

The air in the library was heavy with the scent of old parchment and an undercurrent of desperation. Each incantation you attempted, every ritual you performed to try and dismantle Tamlin’s barriers, drained you more profoundly than the last. The magical exertion pulled at the very essence of your being. Proof to the spell's strength and your own nascent powers trying to break free.

Feyre who was transformed and strengthened by her ordeal under the mountain was exactly what you needed beside you. She lent her newfound powers to your cause. Yet, as the night unfolded and the storm outside mirrored the tumult within her concern for you deepened. She saw the physical and magical toll the efforts took on you. The color draining from your face. Your hands trembling with the strain. But still, you wouldn’t give up. Couldn’t give up.

Despite the risk the need to break free from the suffocating constraints of Tamlin’s spell pushed you both forward. It wasn't just about escape. It was about reclaiming your right to autonomy, to magic, to life itself. The friendship that grew between you and Feyre was cemented not just by shared secrets but by this mutual struggle for liberation. A struggle against the literal and figurative walls that Tamlin had erected around you.

As dawn approached with the storm still raging outside you and Feyre reached a critical point in your efforts. A breakthrough seemed tantalizingly within reach. The words on the ancient scrolls beginning to resonate with the energy you both channeled. The walls of the manor groaned under the pressure of your combined powers. A sure sign that Tamlin's spell was finally beginning to falter.

Determined to break the oppressive chains once and for all you both head into the heart of the storm where the barrier's energy pulses strongest. The rain beats down mercilessly mingling with the energy of your combined spell. A desperate, powerful incantation aimed at shattering the bonds. The backlash is swift and fierce. A surge of raw, antagonistic energy from the barrier meets your spell head-on. The impact is like a physical blow, knocking the breath from your lungs and sending sharp tendrils of pain coursing through your veins. The world tilts dangerously with your vision narrowing.

Feyre grips your hands as her own powers flared around you both in a protective embrace. "We can do this, Y/N, just a bit more—"

But her encouragement turns to a scream of horror as your legs give out completely. Your strength finally failing. As you collapse into her arms, your consciousness fading, her fear peaks. "No! Y/N, no, stay with me, please!" The raw panic in her voice is palpable. Her plea filled with a primal terror that she cannot contain. Her scream is not just vocal. It's a surge of emotional energy that travels through the bargain she shares with Rhysand.

At that moment, in the distant Night Court, Rhysand feels a jolt. A sharp, unbidden intrusion into his thoughts. Feyre’s voice was distorted by panic and edged with despair, echoes in his mind. "No! Y/N, no, stay with me, please!" The words hit him with the force of a physical blow. His heart races. His instincts scream. Without a second thought he’s on his feet. The protective and commanding part of him taking over. Mor sensed the urgency. She looks up from her work with alarm spreading across her face.

"We need to go to the Spring Court. We must go now." Rhysand barks out. His voice brooking no argument. He can't explain how he knows only that the terror in Feyre's voice has triggered something primal in him. Something fiercely protective. As he and Mor prepare to leave Rhysand's mind races with possibilities. His worry mounting with each passing second. The bargain was not one of mates but has acted as a lifeline in this critical moment. He is driven by a deep-seated need to respond, to protect, to arrive in time.

In the dim light of the storm-lashed evening back in the confines of the Spring Court, Feyre cradled you against her as her arms forming a protective barrier against the unrelenting winds and rain that battered the walls of the manor. The spells that Tamlin had woven around the estate groaned under the strain, resonating with the fury of the storm.

As you lay there nearly depleted by your attempts to break through Tamlin’s magical barriers you found every breath to be a battle. Feyre leaned close. Her voice barely audible above the howl of the wind. "Help is coming, Y/N. Just hold on. Please, hold on." Her words were infused with a mixture of determination and desperation. A fervent plea cast into the chaos of the night.

Despite her assurances you knew that Feyre had no way of knowing if help would truly come. She wasn't versed in the intricacies of the bargain she made, nor did she understand the silent, unseen forces that might be at play beyond the reach of Tamlin’s spells. Her faith was not based on certainty but on hope. A hope that Rhysand was somehow attuned to the peril you faced and would sense your need and find a way to breach the seemingly impenetrable defenses of the Spring Court.

As the minutes stretched into what felt like hours, the storm outside seemed to mirror the tumult of your emotions. With every gust of wind, with every crack of thunder, you felt the edges of your resolve fray. Yet with Feyre’s presence and her unwavering support it fortified you. Together you were wrapped in the scant warmth her body provided against the chill of the rain. You waited silently hoping.

Feyre continued to whisper into the storm. Words of encouragement and silent prayers mingled with the rain reaching out into the night as if the very force of her will could summon the help you so desperately needed.

As Rhysand and Mor race through the turbulent night sky the urgency of Feyre's distress call pulses within Rhysand. However, the formidable magical barrier erected by Tamlin at the Spring Court looms as a daunting obstacle. As they approach the boundary Rhysand's expression turns contemplative knowing they must penetrate the shield without triggering a violent magical backlash that could harm those inside.

"We can't just break through. It could harm them," Rhysand says. His thoughts on Feyre and the unknown others who might be caught in Tamlin’s protective snare. He suspects there are more secrets hidden within the Spring Court than Feyre alone.

Mor nods before pointing towards a section of the barrier shimmering less steadily than the rest—a weak point. "Here, let me," she offers, her hands glowing with a soft, probing light.

Together, they carefully manipulate the energies. Mor’s magic coaxing the threads of the barrier apart while Rhysand supports and stabilizes the surrounding spells to prevent a sudden collapse. The barrier relents under their skilled hands. Parting just enough to allow them a silent passage.

Once inside they quickly make their way towards the garden guided by the unerring pull of Rhysand's intuition, which grows stronger with each step. The night air is heavy with the scent of rain-soaked earth and the lingering traces of magic.

There, under an ancient oak, they find you lying in Feyre's protective embrace. Your appearance is startling to Rhysand. You were someone he's heard of but never met. A whispered secret of the Spring Court. Feyre’s eyes were wide with fear and relief. She meets their stares as they approach.

Rhysand’s initial intent to aid Feyre shifts as he catches your gaze. Something profound stirs within him as your eyes lock. There’s an unexpected jolt. A powerful surge of protectiveness that grips him. His knees nearly buckle under the sudden intensity of the emotion. His breath catching in his throat. The connection is unexpected, overwhelming, and in that moment, the significance of your presence begins to dawn on him.

"We will get you both out of here," Rhysand finds himself saying, the words carrying a weight he hadn't anticipated. His voice is gentle. Meant to reassure as he reaches out to steady you. His own magic instinctively flaring to envelop you in a warm, healing glow.

The touch confirms what his heart has already started to suspect. The mating bond, still new and unexplored, thrums with a rightness that transcends his understanding. It’s only when he helps lift you, his arms secure around you, that the realization fully settles in… his fate is irrevocably tied to yours.

With Mor and Feyre's assistance they carefully navigate back through the garden. Rhysand carrying you with an ease that belies the turmoil brewing within him. Each step back through the breach in the barrier is a step towards a new unknown, a journey he hadn't planned but now cannot imagine avoiding. As they slip back into the night heading towards the sanctuary of the Night Court Rhysand is quiet. His thoughts a whirl of possibilities and new realities. Beside him Mor watches thoughtfully. She was acutely aware that the High Lord of the Night Court was about to embark on a profoundly personal journey.

The night was deep and still when Rhysand was abruptly torn from his sleep. A sharp, jarring pulse of panic surged through the bond—a connection still new and startling in its intensity. It was you, finally waking from your long, enforced slumber, and the raw fear that washed over him from your end of the bond had him on his feet before he fully registered moving.

His heart raced as he crossed the space between his private chambers and the room where you rested. The halls of his residence silent save for the quiet thud of his bare feet on the cool marble floor. The bond pulsed with each heartbeat guiding him directly to you underscoring the urgency of your distress with every step he took.

As Rhysand approached the door to your room, he paused, taking a deep breath to calm the storm of his emotions. He needed to be a presence of peace for you not one of turmoil. Gently pushing the door open he stepped inside. His eyes quickly adjusting to the low light that bathed the room in gentle silvers and blues.

There you were attempting to sit up, your movements clumsy with weakness and disorientation. The room's luxuriousness that meant to comfort seemed only to add to your confusion. You grasped at the sheets. Your breathing quick and shallow as if the soft fabrics were the only things tethering you to reality.

Rhysand’s heart clenched at the sight. It was one thing to feel your panic through the bond, but quite another to see it etched so clearly across your features. He approached slowly. His presence commanding yet gentle, stopping a respectful distance away to not overwhelm you. His deep-set eyes, usually a striking shade of violet were clouded with concern.

"It’s okay, you’re safe here," Rhysand said. His voice a soft yet firm anchor in the swirling uncertainty you felt. His relief at seeing you awake, even in such a state, was palpable in his tone. Despite the fear there was an underlying gratitude that you were finally conscious. That there was a beginning of recovery however fraught it might be. "You're in Velaris, the heart of the Night Court." He adds hopping to provide you some comfort.

"Velaris?" you repeat. The name unfamiliar and puzzling. You squint at him trying to place the city that sounds more like a myth than reality.

"Yes, Velaris," he continues noting your confusion. "It's a city unlike any in the fae realms, hidden and protected by powerful spells. It's a place of peace and freedom. It is far from the reach of those who would impose their will unjustly." His voice holds a note of pride when he speaks of the city, and his explanation paints a picture of a safe haven. A contrast to the oppressive atmosphere of the Spring Court.

Seeing your slightly eased expression he decided to introduce himself, "I'm Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court." He keeps his tone even giving you space to process the flood of new information. "You were very ill, so we brought you here to recover. Tamlin cannot reach you here. Our city's protections are strong."

His explanation about Tamlin brings a different kind of tightness to your chest—the fear of pursuit and retribution. Feeling and seeing your growing anxiety, Rhysand adds, "Tamlin has no power here. You and Feyre are both safe and you will always have a place in Velaris."

As Rhysand speaks of Velaris and its protections you find yourself momentarily comforted by his description of the city as a safe haven. Yet, another concern quickly surfaces, tugging at your thoughts with earnest sincerity.

"And Feyre?" you ask. Your voice carrying the weight of genuine worry. "Is she okay?" Your expression reveals the depth of your concern not just for your own situation but also for Feyre who had been entangled in your fate by association.

Rhysand’s expression softens further at your question. His smile tinged with a mix of admiration and surprise. He steps closer, his presence comforting rather than overwhelming. "She is doing well," he assures you, leaning down slightly to meet your gaze more directly. "Are you going to ask about everyone but yourself?" His tone is light and teasing yet it carries an undercurrent of deep respect for your altruism.

He finds it endearing how your first thoughts are for others even in your own time of uncertainty and recovery. It’s a trait he notes is incredibly sweet. Almost too kind for someone who grew up under Tamlin's strict and often harsh rule as his sister, no less.

A faint smile flickers across your face at Rhysand’s light teasing before it quickly fades. You glance away looking out over the vista that the Night Court offers feeling a sudden tightness in your chest. "I... it's just easier to worry about others," you murmur. Your voice barely above a whisper. The unfamiliar concern in his eyes makes you unexpectedly uncomfortable. A reminder of how long you've had to rely solely on yourself. You shift away slightly putting a small distance between you and Rhysand as if the space could help you regain some control. "I'm not used to being someone's concern," you add while keeping your gaze averted. "It feels strange I guess. Not having to fend for myself."

Your words hang in the air showing the walls you've built from years under Tamlin's rule. The Spring Court was a place where self-reliance wasn't just a trait but a necessity for survival. The vulnerability of relying on someone else, even someone as seemingly gentle as Rhysand, feels as foreign as the magical landscape of Velaris itself.

Rhysand senses a subtle shift in your emotions through the bond. A twinge of discomfort, a whisper of withdrawal. He understands too well the complexities of adjusting to new dynamics of care and concern. As you glance away he gives you a moment. He respects your need for space before responding himself.

With a slight adjustment in his stance, Rhysand maintains his gentle smile, hoping to ease the tension. "Feyre visits often," he begins, his voice soft, an attempt to gently steer the conversation towards a more comfortable topic. "She's taken quite well to her roles here. She worries about you too, you know," he adds trying to build a connection through your shared concern for Feyre.

His words bring a small comfort, and you nod to him feeling a thread of relief woven through the lingering disquiet. "That's good to hear," you murmur giving yourself a moment to absorb the reassurances about Feyre's well-being.

Rhysand watches you with a thoughtful expression appreciating the selflessness displayed in your first waking moments. "Now, let’s focus a bit on you," he suggests kindly. "You’ve been through a lot and while Velaris is safe… I imagine it's quite a lot to take in."

Rhysand's words wash over you and you pause to absorb them feeling both comforted and overwhelmed by his understanding. "It is a lot," you agree softly, your gaze drifting around the unfamiliar yet beautiful room. "Everything here is so different. So overwhelming but not in a bad way."

You take a deep breath making sure to gather your thoughts before continuing. "I appreciate the safety and the peace here, Rhysand. It's just... I'm still figuring out where I fit into all of this." Your voice is tentative, reflecting your uncertainty about the future.

Rhysand nods. His expression empathetic. "And that's perfectly okay," he reassures you gently. "Take all the time you need to feel comfortable. There’s no pressure for you to decide anything right now."

Feeling a mix of reassurance and nascent courage from his support you decide to push yourself a bit. Attempting to rise from the bed, your movements are unsteady. A reminder of the physical and emotional tolls from your past. You pause, placing a hand on the mattress to steady yourself.

Rhysand notices your struggle immediately. His sharp gaze softening with concern. "You shouldn't be on your feet just yet," he cautions with his voice gentle yet firm.

You steady yourself with a hand against the soft bedding and look up at him. Your eyes were wide and earnest, silently pleading for understanding before you voice your deep-seated longing. "Please, I've... I’ve never left the Spring Court. I wish to see what other courts look like."

The raw honesty in your words strikes Rhysand deeply. He hesitates aware of the physical contact you might need to stand and walk, yet also conscious of the trauma you’ve likely endured under Tamlin's watch. His heart clenches at the thought of your centuries-long confinement. A life that wasn’t meant to be spent caged within a single court's borders.

As you continue to gaze at him with a mix of hope and vulnerability in your eyes Rhysand's resolve softens. "Alright," he murmurs. His expression a mix of encouragement and a hint of sadness for your past suffering. He steps forward offering his arm for support being careful to let you decide the level of contact you're comfortable with.

When you gratefully accept his help you leant slightly into his strength. Rhysand carefully supports you, mindful of your frailty. As he guides you slowly around the room his mind races. He was appalled by the reality that you, centuries old, have been essentially a prisoner for just as long.

"We’ll start with Velaris," Rhysand says as you take tentative steps towards the balcony. "It’s beautiful this time of year. The city is alive with lights and the people are free. You'll see, it’s a world away from what you've known."

Your curiosity brightens your features as each small detail of the room you now notice seeming to intrigue you. Rhysand watches this small transformation with a protective fierceness settling in his chest. He makes a silent vow then, to not only show you the beauty of the Night Court but to gradually introduce you to the freedoms and wonders of each of the courts ensuring you experience everything you've been denied.

With each step you take leaning on Rhysand a surprising sense of security begins to wash over you. There’s an inexplicable comfort in his presence. A safety that seems to emanate from him directly. You can't quite pinpoint why he feels so safe, why every instinct isn’t screaming for you to run from the unknown. But as you lean more heavily against him while navigating through the unfamiliar room it felt right.

Rhysand notices the subtle shift in your demeanor. The slight relaxation in your posture as you trust him more with each tentative step. It’s a trust he doesn’t take lightly as he was acutely aware of the preciousness of it given your past. He guides you gently, ensuring each movement is steady and unhurried.

“Just a little further,” he encourages softly as you approach the grand doors leading to the balcony. As he pushes the doors open a gentle breeze wafts in carrying with it the unique scents of Velaris. The crisp, clean air mingled with distant sea salt and the vibrant aroma of night-blooming flowers.

You step onto the balcony and the view that unfolds before you steals your breath away. The city of Velaris stretches out beneath a sky littered with stars. Its buildings adorned with luminescent glyphs and streets alive with softly glowing lanterns. The Sidra River reflects the lights creating a sparkling path that leads to the heart of the city. Your eyes dart from spot to spot taking in the sight of sprawling bridges. From the artistic sculptures that line the walkways to the fae moving about with an ease and freedom so alien to what you’ve known. Everything is so vibrant, so vividly alive. It's like stepping into a dream.

Rhysand watches you. His expression a mix of pride and gentle amusement. “It’s a lot to take in,” he say as his voice is barely above a whisper not wanting to break the enchantment of the moment.

“It’s beautiful,” you breathe out as your voice was filled with wonder. "I never imagined..." Your words trail off as you continue to soak in the sight, the reality of Velaris surpassing any tale or description of the Night Court you had ever heard in the Spring Court.

As you stand there, awestruck, Rhysand stands close. He was ready to offer support if needed but giving you space to experience this revelation on your own terms. There’s a warmth in his gaze. A certain softness when he looks at you, moved by your reaction, understanding just how transformative this moment is for you. “This is only a part of what the world has to offer,” Rhysand finally says, his voice low and encouraging. “And you’re free to explore all of it at your own pace. You’re not confined here, or anywhere anymore.”

As his words wash over you a new fear prickles at the edges of your newfound sense of wonder. "But Tamlin..." you start. His name a dark cloud threatening to overshadow the bright promise of freedom.

Rhysand’s reaction is immediate though. He shakes his head, cutting off your spiraling worry with a firmness that is both surprising and comforting. "Tamlin will never touch another hair on your head, darling. I will ensure it." His voice is resolute as it leaves no room for doubt. The sincerity in his tone and the warmth of his smile are reassuring, conveying a depth of commitment that makes you believe him. He’s telling the truth. You can feel it not just in his words but in the protective energy that seems to radiate from him.

As you stand there on the balcony looking out over the luminous city a confusion mingles with your gratitude. He is the High Lord of the Night Court. A figure of immense power and responsibility. Why would he extend such kindness, such personal assurance, to you? His station alone would suggest a detachment from individual affairs, yet here he is, offering not just his protection but his personal attention.

"Why?" The question escapes you before you can think better of it. Your gaze turning from the cityscape to meet his eyes. "Why would you do this for me? You're the High Lord, and yet..."

Rhysand’s expression softens understanding the root of your bewilderment. "Because everyone deserves freedom and safety," he begins, his gaze steady and earnest. "And because, despite my title I see no one as beneath my care. Especially not someone who has suffered as you have under such tyranny."

His words hint at a broader philosophy. One that governs his rule, a complete difference to the oppressive leadership of Tamlin. "Here in Velaris we protect our own and now that includes you. You’re not just under my protection because of duty but because I believe in a world where everyone has the right to choose their own path, free from fear."

His explanation resonates with you. The sincerity and conviction in his voice weaving a stronger thread of trust between you. The High Lord of the Night Court you realize is not just a ruler but a protector. He was guided by a compassion that perhaps defines his reign more than his power. As you absorb his words the city of Velaris seems to glow a little brighter. Its lights a hope of the promise Rhysand offers. A promise not just of shelter but of a life reclaimed and respected.

As Rhysand's words and the gentle sincerity behind them settle over you something shifts inside you. The fear that had been a constant companion starts to ebb away instead replaced by a sense of security you hadn’t felt in a very long time. Standing beside him, overlooking the luminous city of Velaris, you allow yourself a moment to truly take in his presence. A protector not just in title but in spirit.

The tension that had knotted your shoulders begins to unwind and without fully realizing it a small smile curves your lips. It's slight but it's the first genuine smile you’ve allowed yourself in what feels like centuries. "You know, my brother made you seem terrifying," you confess as the smile growing a bit as you speak. "You're anything but that though."

Rhysand catches the change in your expression and his eyes light up with amusement. In response he flashes you a devastatingly handsome smirk, one that's known to both unsettle and charm. "Did he now?" he says lowly. His voice laced with mock severity before it softens into warmth. "Perhaps I should be offended but coming from Tamlin I'll take it as a compliment."

His response was light and teasing. Spoken to ease the atmosphere, to let you know that it's okay to relax, to laugh, to feel safe. "Tamlin has always had a flair for the dramatic," Rhysand continues. His tone playful now. "But I hope that here in Velaris you’ll see me as I am. And perhaps find that the 'terrifying' High Lord of the Night Court can also be a friend." His words were spoken with a gentle candor and encourage a lighter heart. The warmth in his voice, the open invitation to view him as more than just a lord but as a person, deepens the budding trust and comfort you feel in his presence.

As the night air swirls around you carrying with it the vibrant energies of Velaris you find yourself more receptive to the idea of a new start. Rhysand with his easy charm and sincere protection seems not just a guardian but a companion on this journey of rediscovery. His ability to blend strength with kindness, authority with empathy, makes you believe that maybe, just maybe, you can truly start anew here.

"You make it sound almost easy," you reply. The smile now firmly in place, feeling more natural than it has for ages.

Rhysand's smirk softens into a genuine smile. "I'll do my best to make it feel that way," he assures you. "You’ve had enough of the hard path. It’s time for you to experience the peace you deserve."

In the weeks following your awakening Rhys had been a constant, reassuring presence by your side as you navigated the complexities of the Night Court. The city of Velaris had begun to feel less like a foreign land and more like a potential home. Rhys had carefully gauged when you might be ready to meet more people. He was intentionally keeping even his closest friends, Cassian and Azriel, at a distance to allow you time to adjust. He mentioned plans to introduce them soon ensuring that you felt comfortable with each new step.

During this time your days were filled with activities that gradually stitched you into the fabric of this new life. Rhys guided you through physical training sessions aiming to strengthen both your body and spirit. But it wasn’t all rigorous. You spent serene afternoons with Feyre, dabbling in painting. Despite your initial lack of skill Feyre was a patient teacher, encouraging every brushstroke. In exchange you helped her continue learning to read turning each session into a mutual exchange of growth and laughter.

It was a clear, crisp day in Velaris. The kind of day that made the light seem to dance off every surface, imbuing the world with a vivid sharpness. You were in the middle of a training session with Rhysand in one of the secluded gardens of the Night Court practicing your swordplay. The metal felt cool and heavy in your hands as it slowly became more familiar with each controlled swing and parry.

Rhys was ever the patient instructor. He watched and guided you, his instructions both precise and encouraging. As you moved to execute a particularly complex maneuver, something unexpected happened. Amidst the focus on your movements and the rhythm of the blades, a sudden surge of warmth blossomed deep within your chest radiating outwards like the morning sun cresting the horizon.

It was an intense, engulfing wave that seemed to momentarily still the world around you. The sensation was as if a veil had been lifted, connecting you to Rhysand in an indescribably profound way. It felt as though your very souls had reached out and intertwined creating a bond that pulsed with life and energy.

"What... what was that?" you gasped, lowering your sword as you looked up at Rhysand, your heart pounding not from exertion but from the shock of the unexpected connection. The air between you seemed charged, heavy with a significance that you struggled to comprehend.

Rhysand’s eyes met yours with a spark of recognition and perhaps something akin to relief flashing across his features. His stance softened, and the world seemed to resume its usual pace, but the atmosphere remained changed. It was thick with the newfound awareness between you.

"That," Rhysand said softly. His voice steady yet filled with a warmth that echoed the sensation in your chest, "was the mating bond. It's rare, profound. A connection of souls that can occur between two individuals. It seems it has chosen to manifest between us now."

His words sank in, each one laden with meaning as you tried to process the enormity of what had just occurred. The bond, this deep and intrinsic link, had unveiled itself without warning. It aligned you with Rhysand in a way that went beyond mere physical presence or shared goals. It was as if a part of you had known him, deeply and irrevocably, for much longer than you physically had.

The weight of his confession hung in the air. Heavy with the realization of how deeply the bond affected him from the very beginning. “You mean, we’re..." you started, the reality of his words slowly sinking in.

"Mates," Rhysand confirmed gently. "Yes. And while that might mean many things, know this—you're not bound by it against your will. We can explore what it means together, at your pace." The reassurance in his words allowed you to smile, feeling a genuine connection to the path unfolding before you. The bond was no longer just an abstract force. It was a tangible link between your present recovery and a future filled with possibilities.

Rhysand watched you with something akin to awe as you carefully practiced the sword techniques he had shown you. "We have all the time in the world," he said softly. His eyes never leaving yours. "There's no rush. You’re safe here, with me, with us, in Velaris."

His words seemed to only deepen the stir of emotions within you. Pausing, the sword momentarily forgotten in your hand, you met his gaze, vulnerability shadowing your features. "And... are you okay with that? A bond with me of all people?" Your voice was tinged with disbelief as though the very idea of someone like Rhysand being tied to you was something unfathomable.

The sadness that flickered across Rhysand’s face was swift, a passing cloud on a sunny day, but it was enough to reveal the depth of his feelings. He set aside his own weapon and stepped closer with his expression turning earnest. "I can't think of anything I'd want more," he said quietly while reaching for your hand to provide a tangible reassurance. "These past few weeks of getting to know you, seeing your strength and your kindness. It's not just the bond that makes me feel this way. I... I already care about you, deeply."

His confession hung in the air between you, sincere and heartfelt. The way he looked at you in that moment, his eyes filled with a gentle intensity, made it clear that his words were not merely spoken out of obligation or a sense of duty that the bond might impose. They were rooted in genuine affection and respect for the person you were.

Rhysand gently squeezed your hand, his touch warm and encouraging. "I consider myself incredibly fortunate to have this bond with you," he continued with a soft smile touching his lips as he tried to alleviate the heavy atmosphere. "You're remarkable darling. And yes, I am more than okay with it. I’m grateful."

His reassurance was spoken with such candor and helped ease some of the uncertainty that weighed on you. The bond was once a source of confusion and a reminder of your past constraints but began to feel more like a gift. An unexpected but precious connection to someone who not only promised safety but offered understanding and companionship.

As Rhysand released your hand and stepped back, giving you the space to process his heartfelt words, a sense of warmth unfurled within you. The weight of uncertainties began to lift replaced by a burgeoning sense of connection to this man who was both your protector and, unexpectedly, your confidant.

Mirroring the soft smile that graced Rhysand's lips you found the courage to voice your own budding feelings, simple yet profound. "I like you too, Rhysand," you said. Your voice carrying a tender sincerity that made his smile widen. "More than I thought I would." The admission was shy, sweet. A genuine acknowledgment of the bond growing between you both not just magically but emotionally.

His eyes lit up with a mixture of relief and happiness. The atmosphere around you charged with a gentle, joyful energy. The training session resumed but now there was a lightness to your movements. A reflection of the ease settling in your heart. The conversation with Rhysand, though brief, lingered in your mind like a cherished melody. It was a powerful reminder of the new beginnings and genuine connections now possible in your life with Rhysand and the Night Court. A life that was slowly but surely becoming your own.

As you navigated through each day your confidence grew and the tapestry of your new life in Velaris began to weave itself more vividly. Each encounter, each lesson with Rhysand, and every quiet moment spent under the stars of the Night Court fortified your sense of belonging. These experiences were threads in a vibrant, ever-expanding fabric, each one adding strength and color to your life.

One evening as you stood beside Rhysand on the quiet sanctuary of your favorite balcony overlooking Velaris, you felt a calm certainty settle over you. Below, the city sparkled. A tapestry of light and life that seemed to pulse with the same vibrant energy that now flowed through your veins. Rhysand's gaze was fixed on the horizon, the soft glow of the city lights casting shadows across his strong features when you turned to him ready to voice the thoughts that had been crystallizing in your mind.

"You know," you began. Your voice steady and clear, "I've spent a lot of time thinking about what all of this means. The mating bond, this new life, everything."

Rhysand turned to you with his expression open and attentive. The bond between you hummed softly. It was a growing and comforting presence at the back of your mind.

"I've realized that this bond... it's not just a tie to you. It's a connection to myself. To a life I didn't think was possible," you continued. The words flowing more freely than you expected. "I accept it, Rhysand. Not just accept it… I'm grateful for it. For you."

A slow smile spread across Rhysand's face. That beautiful smile you were slowly coming to cherish. "I can't tell you what it means to hear you say that," he said as his voice was thick with emotion. "You've become a part of this world. A part of my world in a way I always hoped but never dared to expect."

Encouraged by your acceptance and the growth you had shown Rhys felt that the time was right for a significant next step. As the days progressed and you continued to integrate more deeply into the fabric of the Night Court he planned an upcoming evening that would mark a new chapter in your life. The occasion was chosen with care. Not rushed but timed perfectly to coincide with your readiness to meet new faces and embrace the wider community of the Night Court. It was a testament to your journey thus far and a celebration of the future you were building together.

With the day finally set, a gentle breeze whispering promises through the halls, the stars above Velaris began to unveil themselves in the twilight sky. The air was charged with a sense of anticipation. Rhysand who was usually the epitome of composure carried a subtle excitement mixed with nerves as he prepared to introduce you to Cassian, Azriel, and the rest of the Inner Circle. This evening was not just another night. It was a milestone, a true celebration of your integration into his world and the bonds you would soon form with those closest to him.

You had spent the afternoon with Feyre who had helped you select a gown for the evening. The dress was a deep shade of midnight blue and adorned with silver threads that mimicked the starlit sky of Velaris. It perfectly embodied the essence of the Night Court. As you descended the grand staircase the gown flowed around you like a night shadow brought to life.

At the base of the steps Rhysand waited. His usual composure shaken as he caught sight of you. The world seemed to pause, his breath caught in his throat, his heart raced rapidly. There, in the soft glow of the House of Wind you looked not just a part of the Night Court but as if you were its very spirit. The realization that you were his mate, utterly beautiful and resplendent in the regalia of his court, struck him with renewed force.

Rhysand who was ever mindful of the boundaries and comfort of those around him had been particularly cautious about not overwhelming you with the intimate connection that mind-speaking entails. Despite this, the sight of you this evening descending the grand staircase dressed for the event was simply too much for him to resist. The gown you wore reflected the starlit sky of Velaris and accentuated your presence. It made you seem as ethereal as the city itself. Overcome with admiration, he reached out with his mind. "You look breathtaking, darling," his voice echoed in your thoughts for the first time in a while, startling you slightly with its warmth and closeness.

The mental whisper drew a surprised laugh from you. A sound that delighted him to no end. Rhysand's smile broadened. His eyes twinkling with mischief as he observed your reaction. "I see we still need to work on your shields, won't we?" he added playfully. His tone warm and teasing. It was moments like these he cherished deeply. Ones that always kept you on your toes. A trait you’d come to love about him.

Blushing slightly at the intimacy of his mental caress you couldn't help but respond in kind. Your newfound boldness surprising even yourself. "Perhaps I left them down on purpose Rhysand," you flirted back. Your mental voice a soft murmur that only he could hear.

Rhysand’s eyebrows shot up in amused surprise. A rich laugh escaping him that resonated deeply in the space around you. "Is that so? Well, in that case, I might have to keep complimenting you just to see what else you intentionally leave unguarded," he teased back, the affection in his voice unmistakable.

His impulsive act, born from a burst of admiration, turned into a playful exchange that highlighted the growing ease and affection between you. Rhysand quickly added sensing your enjoyment yet still cautious of overstepping, "Apologies if that was too much, but seeing you tonight, I couldn't help myself."

This flirty banter, interwoven with moments of laughter and shared glances, underscored the deepening connection between you both. Even as Rhys continued to respect your boundaries. He also found joy in these light-hearted exchanges, each one building upon the last. You couldn't help but smile, feeling a mix of amusement and warmth from his words. This gentle mental whisper was another sign of how your relationship with Rhysand was deepening, weaving together both profound moments and light-hearted banter.

As you reached the bottom of the stairs Rhysand gently took your hand helping you to navigate the last step. His presence was comforting and his proximity a reminder of how much had changed between you. The grandeur of the staircase faded into the background as you focused solely on him.

You couldn't help the smile that danced across your lips, nor the lightness in your heart from his words. "No need to apologize, Rhys," you responded. Your voice a blend of amusement and reassurance. "I quite liked it. It's... nice, hearing your thoughts sometimes."

"We’ll make quite the team, you and I," Rhysand said, his voice now audible. A soft yet clear tone that carried through the grand space. "With or without your shields up, darling."

The playful banter that had begun in the privacy of your minds seamlessly flowed into the verbal exchange adding layers to your communication and highlighting the ease and comfort developing between you both. As you looked up into his eyes, still sparkling with that same affectionate mischief, you felt that profound connection. The bond was not just magical but deeply personal, spanning the quiet thoughts shared in whispers and the words spoken in the open.

This moment, under the soft lights and the eyes of the Night Court, solidified something essential between you and Rhysand. A partnership built on mutual respect, affection, and a delightful undercurrent of flirtation that promised many more such exchanges in the days to come.

Rhysand led you through the lush, starlit gardens of the Night Court where Cassian, Azriel, and others from the Inner Circle awaited. As you approached the atmosphere was charged with an understated anticipation. Both Cassian and Azriel rose to greet you both their expressions blending curiosity and respect.

Cassian's greeting was robust yet heartfelt. "Rhys didn't prepare us for someone quite so captivating," he remarked with a friendly nod. His tone genuine and devoid of any overstatement. His smile was infectious. He quickly added in a more casual tone, "And I hear you're as quick-witted as you are graceful. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

Azriel who Rhys described as more reserved offered a calm nod. His deep-set eyes thoughtful as he assessed you with a discerning gaze. "Welcome to the Night Court," he said. His voice soft yet carrying a warmth that invited trust. During the evening as you engaged in a discussion about the strategic intricacies of the court’s defenses Azriel's respect visibly deepened. Later, he quietly shared with Rhysand, "She has a keen sense for the nuances of strategy. You've chosen well. She’s not just impressive in demeanor but in intellect."

Throughout the evening laughter and substantive conversations filled the garden. Cassian's heartier chuckles complemented your more measured humor. While Azriel engaged you with discussions that tested your insight into the court’s history and its future.

Rhysand watched these exchanges with a sense of deep satisfaction. The way you engaged with his friends. Not just with politeness but with a genuine interest and understanding solidified your place among them. Cassian’s easy camaraderie and Azriel’s quiet approval spoke volumes of their acceptance.

As the night progressed under the expansive, star-filled sky of Velaris your initial sense of being an outsider slowly dissipated. You found yourself woven into the evening’s tapestry as seamlessly as the shadows melded into the night. Each shared story, each moment of laughter, helped stitch you further into the fabric of this vibrant community.

Standing there among new friends you experienced yet another profound shift within. With Rhysand at your side and the bond between you growing stronger by the day you realized you had discovered much more than a haven. You had found a new family, a purpose, and a place where you truly belonged. The night ended not just with a feeling of contentment but with a renewed sense of anticipation for the future.

ACOTAR Permanent Taglist (Message me or comment below if you want to be added!) : @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @kenn-spencerswifey @guacam011y @illisea @hiireadstuff @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @lilah-asteria

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the-mad-starker · 5 years ago

Text

Paint My Wings With Your Heat (2/?)

Chapter 2: Show me.

Mads💗: the amount of love this fic got has blown my mind. We also got amazing fanart 💗😭

Keyz 💖: This rp is still so fun and I'm glad you all seem to like it as much as us! Well, for now, we'll see how charitable you are after this next part 🤣

Notes: ABO dynamics, intersex omegas, wing kink, in-flight fucking, knotting, courting, soulmate au

WC: 3913

Links:

AO3 Link: Part 1 | Part 2

Tumblr Link: Part 1

Artsy Links: Fanart Link | Keyz's Moodboard

💗💗💗

Peter had run for what he believes is a logical reason. But as soon as his shoes thud against the floor, instinct takes over.

He doesn't need to look back. The hairs at the back of his neck tell him all he needs to know.

He's being chased.

Tony flares his wings and skids over the top of a desk, sending papers and a stapler flying, before tackling his young mentee to the ground. He grips Peter’s wings and pins them, pressing his groin into a firm ass with his wings postured high above his back; high enough the gold ends knocked lights and ceiling tiles alike.

There's a muffled whimper when they go down. Peter's wings flounder in the air, stretching out and trying to move this way and that. They test the alpha's hold, only to find it secure.

The wings fall limp. Peter's entire body goes soft and pliant as his instincts take over. He feels the alpha's cock against his ass and instinctively, his legs try to spread apart.

"Mr. Stark–" It's muffled with his hand pressing against his mouth as he tries not to grind back.

“Honestly, not the worst first mating flight I’ve seen. College was a doozy for some people.” Tony’s words are light but his tone is dark honey whispered over Peter’s nape. Tony pushes him down harder, just because he can and he wants to and then-

Tony gets up and takes three steps away from Peter. He curls his wings back up and takes a deep, calming breath. After settling himself, he moves close enough to help him up and holds a hand out to Peter to tug him back on his feet.

Then, Tony pulls Peter closer and smiles.

“If you want to try again, I’ll let you get into the air this time. If you don’t want me pinning you down again, walk to the elevator, slowly.” Tony’s words come out husky and pure alpha.

Peter's world has been turned upside down in a matter of minutes. His breath is cut short and with Tony still gripping his hand, he feels dazed.

Dazed enough that when he tries to take a step, he stumbles on nothing and ends up against the older man. His wings flutter, trying to regain balance, but they're useless.

Chest to chest, he looks up at the alpha, brown eyes blown with very little color left. A flush sits heavy on his cheeks and his hands press against Tony's chest.

Tony’s hands come up to cover Peter’s. His thumbs rub against his wrists as he waits.

"I don't think I can fly," Peter says, tone shaky as his fingers drag down Tony's chest.

Tony furrows his brows and looks over at Peter's wings. Had he grabbed too hard? Hurt him in some way?

A wing curves out, reaching for the bright red and gold of his mentor's wing.

Red and gold stretch out to meet him and reassure Tony that the smaller wings were undamaged by his display. A shudder knocks itself down each of his vertebra like a pinball; electricity sparking up everywhere their feathers brush.

"I felt– You're…"

Peter's not thinking right. There's no other sane explanation why he'd do what he's doing now. His hand skims down, lower and lower until he touches it. Hot, hard flesh… His mentor's hard cock that he couldn't deny feeling when he was pinned to the floor.

"You're hard," Peter breathes out. "Was it the… the flight?"

“No.” Tony’s voice is ragged.

His wings spread out and around Peter, red and gold cupping his body closer to Tony and shielding him from the sight of any potential rivals. Tony’s gaze is as heavy and hot as a hand on the nape of his young mate’s neck.

“I was hard before that,” Tony says honestly.

At the same time, he grinds himself into Peter’s palm. He’s holding Peter’s other hand with both of his now, pinning it down to his chest so he can feel how quickly Tony’s heart is pounding away.

“Kid- Peter… This is what I meant. The feather did it. Your beacon feather.”

The revelation has Peter's lashes flutter in excitement. His fingers curve around the nice, thick girth of Tony's cock but he doesn't do anything more than just applying some pressure.

He can barely believe that he's doing this at all.

Tony feels so hard and solid beneath his hand. Hot and– Peter presses his thighs together, biting back a soft whimper because the chase had distracted him but only for a moment.

Being held close with Tony's wings cutting them off from the outside world, Peter feels the stirring of something dark and primal in his own body. And yet, compared to earlier, he doesn't want to run from the alpha.

With Tony's wings surrounding them, he understands why. The alpha has already caught him. He was fast and strong, pinned Peter in place like it was effortless. And his omega side purred at the thought of having such an alpha so why would he run….?

Tony produces the feather one-handed from where he’d tucked it away, somewhere between Peter taking off and Tony catching him. It’s a little worse for wear but the longer Tony holds it, the more Peter’s potent mate scent fills the small private bubble created by Tony’s wings.

“The scent is incredible. Your omega scent is coming in healthy and strong and God, Peter. You smell so good.” Tony’s voice is a groan and there’s no way Peter doesn’t feel the way Tony’s cock just jumped in arousal.

Peter wants to purr in satisfaction. The worry that Tony would find his scent pungent or his feathers unappealing quickly melts away.

He manages to stop himself from doing it but what he can't stop is how his fingers start to stroke very gently. Up and down the alpha's erect cock, slowly and with care, as though he wants to reassure himself that this is really happening.

Tony’s hips start moving just as gently as Peter’s stroking hand, meeting him and thrusting against his fingers. It’s like his cock has a mind of its own and it wants Peter to keep going, please.

“You can take it back. I won’t force you. I won’t stop you. But if you let me keep this feather, I’m going to be compelled to court you. To chase you. To pin you and mount you again. And it’ll only happen more often the closer we get to mating season and the better you smell.” Tony says it as he holds out the feather in the nonexistent space between them.

He squeezes Peter’s wrist and then relaxes his hand on his chest; giving him the choice.

Take it or leave it.

Peter has remained silent throughout Tony's speech. The offer to take back the feather has Peter pressing his lips together in a firm line.

He has a better plan.

As much as he doesn't want to, Peter releases his grip on Tony's hard cock. He reaches for the feather, taking it carefully by the end of the shaft.

Tony tries to shutter his expression and lets the feather go. It’s Peter’s and he’d offered. No matter how much it would hurt, he’d have to let Peter go.

Peter leans his head against the other's chest, cheek against their joined hands. His eyes are hooded and he glances down their bodies where his hand drifts, feather still grasped between two fingers.

With his breath coming in shallow, he runs the tip of the beacon feather over the prominent bulge of his mentor's cock.

Tony’s breath sucks in, noisy and loud in the quiet between them. His wings rustle and shift as they close in tighter around them, red shafts and golden tips pushing between Peter’s shoulder blades greedily.

Cocooned in this warmth, surrounded by the vibrant red of Tony's wings, Peter feels safe and maybe… maybe a bit reckless.

"I want… I want all that, Mr. Stark," Peter tells him softly. "I don't– I wouldn't stop you if… if you wanted to do any of that to me. I trust you, sir, and I know you care about me or else… You wouldn't have let me go earlier."

“Don’t trust me to be a good man about this. I care about you and I want to protect you. It’s a dangerous combination, kid.” Tony’s words are lighter with concern and he doesn’t know why he’s trying so hard to stop something he wants. Maybe an ingrained response to how many times he’s ruined things only half as precious as Peter.

Peter swallows the lump that wants to form in his throat. He wants Tony to do more than care for him. He wants Tony to ache for him, to be driven crazy for his scent… He wants Tony to want him as a mate.

"Teach me?" Peter asks, the words coming out breathless and eager. “I want to be… a good omega. Want to be an omega you'd find… good and sexy and irresistible."

“Peter- fuck. Of course, I’ll teach you. Hardly have to do a thing since you’re already such a good omega. You picked the best alpha available to teach you, didn’t you, baby?” Tony’s voice deepens as he speaks, giving in.

He wants to do this for Peter and Peter wants him to do it, too. Why not let the both of them just have something they want for a change?

Peter lets the feather go, not even watching as it drifts to the floor. He'll have more, but he wants to show Tony he can be good.

He fumbles with the alpha's belt, cheeks red as he tries to undo it so he can touch Tony directly.

Tony lets Peter undo his clothing in favor of reaching for and tugging on the omega’s wings, pulling them down and under his own. The size of his wings interlacing with Peter’s own nearly blots out the artificial sun of the lab space they’ve commandeered.

It casts the clinking of his undone belt in red-tinted shadow.

Peter lets out a soft whimper at the touch and his wing muscles spasm. As a result, the feathers rustle and spread out, allowing more room for the alpha.

His wings have never made him feel like this before. They're like any other appendage, his hands, his legs… Why do they make him want to melt now? A little bit of attention and Peter's ready to drop to his knees...

The answer is Tony. He's never been touched like this before and Peter knows with certainty that if Tony had brushed his hand or wrapped an arm around his waist, he would've reacted just as strongly.

“What do you think being a good omega means, Pete?” Tony’s words are soft. He slips his fingers through the omega’s feathers as he speaks. Stroking through the rich grey-white as slow and gentle as Peter’s hand had been on his cock, earlier.

Tony’s wings layer over Peter’s, pinning them under his weight.

It feels so good, the weight of Tony's wings on top of his. It floods Peter's brain with a mix of dopamine and oxytocin and the omega curls closer. The words are just as hypnotic. The tone, soft and arousing, just like the sensual slide of the alpha's wings over his own.

“What do you think being my good omega means?” Tony’s lips are parted and his eyes glitter. He finds the unshed beacon feathers hidden within the other more innocent feathers and rubs the heady oils into his fingertips.

He imagines swirling the scent of mate-heat-omega-Peter all across his chest and groin and neck and lets out a shameless moan.

Peter nuzzles closer. Arousal prickles along his skin and the alpha's moan sends heat shuddering through his entire body. He wants to take in more of that delicious scent like it's a drug but Tony's asked him a question. He opens his eyes, the pupils trying to focus on the alpha.

Tony watches Peter’s dark eyes skate around, unfocused, and resists the urge to kiss him. The younger man’s skin is flushed a pretty pink edging into a bright red that he wants to taste from the hollow of his collarbones.

The scent of arousal, alpha and omega, is so strong…

“Show me what good omegas do, Peter. Show me.” Tony orders, his voice thick and heady like the musk and heat swirling in the air between them like heat vapors.

Peter’s knees feel weak from their combining scents and he follows his instincts.

It has him sinking to his knees. His wings, regrettably, slip free from the alpha's to pool around him in a cloak of white and grey.

"Good omegas… please their alphas," Peter finally answers when he's where he belongs. His heart races and his wings tremble, eager and all too easily excited. "I want to do that for you, sir…"

He wants to be Tony's good omega...

“Peter… Only if you want,” Tony purrs, reluctant to end it but compelled to give Peter an out, even as his wings shelter them more soundly. It feels like a glimpse of sanity, or a last breath of fresh air, to remember responsibilities and ethics.

His wings flex more securely around them and Tony feels himself slipping under. His pulse so loud in his ears.

No rival will get even a glimpse of Peter. This beauty is all for him and Tony has never been ashamed of being greedy.

Tony's belt is open, unbuckled already, and his dark underwear peeks through in the open 'v' of his pants. Peter pets the heavy bulge between the alpha's legs, leaning close until he could press his cheek against it. The heavy scent of alpha arousal nearly overwhelms him.

He looks up at the alpha, eyes eager and pleading for approval.

"I… I don't know what I'm doing..." Peter admits with another rub of his cheek. It's a soft whine, an entreaty for guidance. "Good omegas… take care of their alphas."

The pressure of his future mate’s cheek against his erection feels electrifying.

“Good omega’s ask for what they want, too. I want you to want this,” Tony says with a voice deep and smooth as the night sky under his wings. He thinks, ‘I want you to want me’ but keeps it to himself. “I want you to want my cock in your mouth just as much as me. I don’t want it to be… a chore.”

He puts a hand in Peter’s hair instead and finds he can’t look away. Peter is so beautiful. On his knees with the lab lights filtering red and gold over his pale skin and grey-white feathers, he looks like a renaissance painting come to life.

Peter barely keeps his eyes from slipping shut when he feels Tony's fingers, so strong and so sure, in his hair. His eyes flutter in pleasure.

A chore…? Doing this for Tony would be anything but that. It'd be a dream come true to have Tony look at him with pleasure, with want, and with need.

Peter’s fingers creep over the band of his underwear and his wings give a soft flutter of excitement.

"I–I want this, God, I want it... I want to do that for you, Mr. Stark," Peter breathes out as he drags the underwear down the hard length of his boss' cock. "Take care of you… Take care of your cock…"

“Good boy. I told you I wouldn’t have to train you much,” Tony says with an approving squeeze of the fingers in Peter’s curls.

This isn’t anything like how he’d imagined this going. Nothing ever goes how he imagines it will with Peter. That’s part of what draws Tony in so much- Peter is unpredictable, no matter how much Tony gets to know him.

Tony cups Peter’s cheek with his free hand and watches his expressions hungrily as he undresses Tony for the first time, memorizing this in case Peter gets cold feet after the fact.

Peter’s mouth waters as Tony's cock is revealed, inch by inch, until finally, it slips off the thick, swollen tip of his cock. Peter outright moans when he finally sees the whole thing. The length and sheer girth make his insides clench down in a mix of excitement and anticipation.

He touches it, palm pressing against naked hot flesh as he levels it with his mouth.

"Can I…?" Peter nearly begs, lips parted and face as red as the alpha's feathers.

“Of course. I’ll always give you what you want,” Tony says, dropping his hand away from Peter’s cheek to grip himself instead, lacing his fingers with his future mate’s over the thick heft of the shaft.

Peter sucks in a breath but he feels like it's not enough. He feels like that time he flew too high up where the oxygen runs thin. He knows that isn't the case here but being so close to what he desperately wants is making him lightheaded.

Touching Tony like this… The shape and girth of his cock makes something ache fiercely in Peter's body.

The omega blinks, gaze fixed on Tony's handsome face as he waits for more of his mentor's guidance.

“All you have to do is ask.”

Tony pulls their hands up and down, once and then twice, taking the edge off and bumping his sensitive glans against Peter’s bottom lip in the process. He grins at the dancing fire that skitters through his pelvis and thighs from the action.

Peter gives a silent moan and instinctively tilts his face so that his mouth is at a better angle to take the tip in. Tony doesn't make it that easy for him though. The alpha continues with the slow tease and Peter shivers, willing to play the game.

“I’ll let you know some of what I want since you’ve been so good for me,” Tony says with promise.

Tony uses Peter’s own hand to squeeze and stroke himself as he continues talking. He knocks the swollen tip of himself against his mentee’s lips for emphasis as he speaks and grins wider each time his cock slaps down on the younger man’s cherry skin.

“I want to sink my cock into this pretty mouth you’re offering me.”

-Tap-

“I want to get you into the air and try that mating flight again after.”

-Tap-

“I want to pin you down and play mate you for real when I catch you.”

-Tap-

“I want to show you how fun being my good omega can be.”

-Tap, tap-

“Are you ready to get what you want, Peter?” Tony asks with his cock poised, both of their hands holding it steady. Peter hasn’t sucked any inch of it yet and his lips look abused and swollen already. Tony’s stomach ignites and twists in anticipation.

Peter is good. No matter how much his instincts urge him to chase after the alpha's cock, he waits. It almost feels like agony to have Tony's cock right there and still be denied.

Tony had given him the answer earlier though. He said Peter's already a good omega so now Peter just has to prove it.

"I want everything you wanna give me," Peter says breathlessly. The words come out clear and so sure, not a stutter or sign of hesitation. It is what he wants, both heart and body crave for everything Tony offers.

He just has to ask for it.

Tony groans softly at the implications, at the yearning eagerness that laces Peter’s words. His cock twitches and he automatically squeezes it, squeezing Peter’s fingers at the same time.

Beneath Tony's firm hand, Peter moves his own and takes over. He strokes the alpha's hard cock, exactly how Tony had done it. The grip, the pressure… Just like how Tony enjoys it.

He's proven to be a quick learner and this, he picks up just as fast. His eagerness to learn everything about the alpha helps him, too.

“Peter, sweetheart… you’re a fast learner.” Tony pants the words out past flashing teeth and a smile made sloppy from the warm bliss of another person stroking him.

His hips rock gently and he lets go of Peter’s hand on his cock, dropping his hand on top of Peter’s wing instead, leaving the omega to hold him and attend to the thick alpha length alone. Somehow, that knowledge makes the experience even hotter, frissons of sensation shooting through his belly and inner thighs.

Peter presses even closer and lets the crown rest against his lips, smearing the alpha precum over his lips.

"I want this," Peter says, his lips teasing along the wet tip. "Want this in my mouth."

Tony’s wings flex and his flanks clench to hold back from thrusting in, right then and there. God, he wants to be inside that mouth so badly...

Peter’s wings tremble but they arch, spreading softly in offering. The length of his wings are no match for Tony's. He is omega, after all.

"I want to fly," Peter tells him, "knowing you're behind me."

Tony’s loose hand moves to run along the bone of Peter’s wing, brushing his feathers but not impeding his movements. The feathers are just as soft and fluffy as Peter’s hair and Tony is thrilled that he finally has the chance to compare.

Peter stretches his wings out and the tips of his primaries brush against the shield of soft feathers that make up their closed off little world. Teasing. He lowers them just as carefully.

"And if you catch me…" Peter's lips curve into an almost daring smile. "You can do whatever you want with me…"

Tony’s hand is still cupping the delicate top of Peter’s wing, holding him gently so he can rub his thumb over his feathers in small, sweeping strokes as he listens and waits.

At the words, his wings tighten, closing in around them so it's even darker and more intimate. The lights coming through his feathers look almost like the hue of a sunset and Tony wishes they were somewhere private to watch one together.

“Whatever I want, huh. That’s pretty open-ended,” Tony says with a deep exhale and parting of his lips.

Tony’s tongue licks across his bottom lip with desire.

The omega shivers at the words but he doesn't take them back.

Peter doesn't know where any of this is coming from. But here, on his knees, surrounded by Tony's wings, he already feels wanted. He already feels like the sexy, confident omega that can get the alpha of their choice.

And Peter knows who he wants.

"Show me, Mr. Stark," Peter asks, just as Tony told him to. He kisses the alpha's tip. "Tell me what to do… Show me what an alpha like you would do to… to an omega like me…"

The spark in his belly has been ignited and an inferno burns inside him. It's not his heat and it's that crystal clear thought that makes Peter realize just how deep he's in. if Tony makes him feel like this before he's even taken his first mating flight… He's not sure if he'll make it through the season.

The heat, this… insatiable hunger he has for his mentor may just very well burn him up from the inside out.

And then Peter realizes just how fucked he is.

He wraps his lips around Tony's cock, eyes blazing with fire.

Show me.

#starker #madstarker writes #keyz fic #intersex omegas #NFF #omegaverse

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