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prythianpages · 6 months ago

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Just A Girl | Eris x Rhysand's Sister

series masterlist | summary: Your father throws a ball in your honor. When Beron belittles you, you decide to show him what you're capable of, catching the attention of his firstborn.

word count: 2K

a/n: Hi guys! It's been a hot minute since I've written anything and I feel rusty lol (kinda like when you stop riding your bike and have to relearn type of feel.) Anyway, this is entirely based off no doubt's just a girl bc I felt like it gave off Rhys's sister vibes and then I thought why not incorporate this into an au I had planned for an Eris x Rhys's sister one shot??

“When I’m High Lord, I’ll go–”

“I’m sure you’ll go far,” you interrupt, a half smile playing on your lips as you look up at the first born of Spring. With his luscious blond hair, striking green eyes, and well-defined jawline, he's undeniably a sight to behold. Unfortunately, his personality doesn't match his looks—dull yet somehow arrogant and miserably misogynistic.

You don’t have it in you to spare him a moment longer, especially not when his overbearing pride is becoming overwhelming for your senses. You push past the desire to call upon your abilities and manipulate his emotions into something more humbling. He is not worth exposing your powers.

With a pat on his shoulder–too harsh for his liking– you add, “and I really hope you stay there. It was nice speaking with you, Heathen.��

“It’s Heath.”

You give an uninterested hum before making your way to the refreshments table, desperate for something to soothe the tension between your brows. A silent prayer is sent to the Cauldron that no other male approaches you with a lame attempt at conversation. If they are interested in you, they should at least be able to hold a good one. One that doesn’t incorporate any microaggressions toward you.

Fortunately for you, it is your brother who approaches you next. He takes your–what was it? fourth or sixth, you can’t remember– champagne flute from your grasp with an effortless ease. A glare settles upon your features as you watch him chug it before fixing your gaze straight ahead, to the dais where your father and mother sit.

Your father occupies the grand throne, while your mother sits beside him in a smaller, less ornate chair. The Lady of the Night Court—magnificent and burdened with countless responsibilities—receives none of the praise that is lavished upon your father. Despite her contributions to your court, she is not held in the same regard… simply because she is a female.

It leaves you to wonder what your destiny is.

Rhysand looks at you with sympathy, and you realize that in your moment of vulnerability, you've let your mental shields slip. “Please, save your breath,” you mutter.

Sensing Cassian and Azriel approaching, you flash them a small, relieved smile. “And please, stay by my side,” you say, your eyes scanning the room where multiple pairs of eyes are fixed on you. You feel so exposed and though it’s no surprise, it still leaves you unsettled. When your gaze meets that of one of Autumn's sons, you quickly look away and strengthen the shield around you.

“I could use my scary brother privileges right now.”

“Who are we scaring, princess?” Cassian asks, flexing his muscles as he pretends to adjust the cuffs of his dress shirt, rolled up to his elbows.

Azriel lets out a snort, but his keen eyes are already scanning the room, easily locating the Autumn male. The red-haired male immediately cowers under his cold, hard stare.

“No one.” Rhysand replies, shooting them both a warning look. He then turns to you and you don’t need his daemati abilities to know what he’s about to say. “y/n–”

“Don’t you think I know exactly where I stand?” You interrupt him with an exhausted sigh.

Tonight was a celebration–a ball to honor you and all you’ve done for the Night Court during the war. When the war started, you were twenty-three and deemed too young to participate. Though, at that age, Rhysand had already completed the bloodrite and was esteemed a formidable warrior. You were fortunate that your father allowed you to train and even more so that he allowed you to join the Night Court council.

You quickly mastered the politics of war and the intricacies of the Prythian courts. Midway through the war, your father entrusted you to visit the war camps and delegate on his behalf. There was no doubt that it was a privilege you were granted due to your powers. Still, you embraced it eagerly and tonight was the night you would officially be recognized as an emissary.

But of course, many–especially the sons of the High Lords–confused tonight as your debutante ball. You were in your third decade, after all. While your brother was recognized as a fierce warrior and heir, you were regarded as a highly sought out bachelorette.

Lucky you.

“I am meant to be pretty and docile,” you continue, gesturing to yourself.

The dress you wore was far from your usual preference. The bodice, adorned with intricate beadwork and sequins, featured a sweetheart neckline that teased a glimpse of your breast—but not too much. The skirt of the gown was voluminous, made of layers of soft tulle that shimmered with every step as the light caught the scattered sequins. It was a beautiful black ball gown, crafted by your mother's talented hands. Yet, you much preferred dresses that clung to you like a second skin, revealing more of your figure.

To put it frankly, you felt quite suffocated in this gown. And you rather not even get started on your makeup. You were transformed into a perfect painting of a sweet and innocent princess. Not the daring and powerful female you knew yourself to be.

“Desirable but not too attainable.”

“However, that does not mean I need to be consistently tortured by dull conversations and hungry stares from controlling males,” you finish, crossing your arms against your chest with a scowl. “No one has even asked me about my role in this court.”

“Oh, yeah. How is it being an emissary to the Night Court?” Cassian asks, earning a smack to the back of his head from Azriel.

“Just splendid,” you reply with a sarcastic smile.

“You played a significant role in establishing peace between Spring and the rest of the courts after the war. I’m sure your efforts will not go unnoticed,” Rhysand assures you.

“Perhaps I played my role too well. Heathen has seemed to have taken an interest in me.”

It’s as if he heard his name being called, for the blonde male’s gaze meets yours across the ballroom. He winks at you with that stupid, cocky smirk of his. A grimace crosses your face. You had been hoping your conversation from earlier would deter him. It seems it has only spurred him on.

“He’s... pretty,” Rhysand starts, but then trails off, struggling to find a compliment for Heath. “Pretty full of himself,” he finally manages, shooting you an almost apologetic glance.

Both of you erupt into laughter.

“It could be worse,” Azriel comments after a moment, a futile attempt at making you feel better. “It could be the heir to Autumn. As the by-product of growing up under Beron’s cruelty, I hear he’s pretty ruthless. Might even turn out to be crueler than him. At least Heath isn’t as bright…”

“Ouch,” Cassian says with a playful wince, almost feeling bad for the Spring heir.

Your eyes find the male in question. Eris Vanserra. His vibrant red hair makes him and his siblings easy to spot in a crowded room. Surprisingly, Eris hasn't made any attempt to approach you tonight. Unlike his brothers. Instead, he stands by his mother's side. She appears uncomfortable and weary, her arm linked with his as she rubs her swollen, pregnant belly.

As you focus on him, you feel a mix of anger and concern. “Somehow, I doubt that,” you voice your thoughts out loud, following the trail of emotions. Your eyes land on the recipient of his anger. Beron. The High Lord of Autumn stands amongst the other High Lords, engaged in conversation with your father.

Sensing your gaze on him, your father looks up from where you stand. He holds a hand up, summoning you and your brother.

“Time to shine,” Rhysand says, holding his hand out to you.

“Ah, my son,” your father greets with a smile as you and Rhysand come to a stop before him and the other High Lords. He then turns to you, violet eyes alight with pride that has your chest swelling with warmth. At least your father recognizes your worth and you don't dare to wonder if he'd see you the same if you weren't blessed with your power.

“My daughter, the guest of honor," he introduces, reaching for your hand to pull you to his side. You offer a polite smile and curtsy to the High Lords. “Y/n has done a lot for this court and all of Prythian. Tonight is a means to show my immense gratitude and present her with the official title of lead emissary of the Night Court.”

It is the High Lord of the Winter Court who speaks first, offering a slight bow of his head. “I look forward to continuing working with you, Lady y/n.”

“A wise and thoughtful member of the Night Court.” High Lord Thesan says with an amiable smile, the High Lords of Day, Summer and Spring sharing his sentiments.

However, the same cannot be said for the High Lord of Autumn. His lips curl in distaste, the thought of having to interact with a female tasting sour on his tongue. He had tolerated you before but only due to the war.

“You expect me to welcome her to my court to discuss important matter?" Beron huffs. "She’s just a girl.”

You don’t speak. You don’t even make a sound. But the look in your eyes…the look in your eyes was downright murderous.

Memories begin to flood your mind of you being berated and undermined. The box in which you had locked away your emotions can no longer contain them. A wave of anger and frustration begins to surge forth...

Rhysand knew exactly what was about to happen, his hand silently reaching out for yours. To hold you back.

But it was too late. Your mind was like a wall of steel. Impenetrable.

All you saw was red, your wings bursting forth from your glamor, unfurling behind you. They tore through the seams of your dress, provoking gasps. Swiftly, your magic mends the fabric, accommodating your true form.

Tendrils of darkness emanate from your outstretched hands, weaving through the air like sinister ribbons. Your gaze, unwavering and intense, remains fixated on Beron. With each movement of your fingers, the room plunges deeper into shadow. The once-illuminated space is now consumed by a thick veil of darkness. Even Azriel’s shadows, accustomed to the darkness themselves, cling onto him like a second skin.

As the last glimmer of light fades into oblivion, the ballroom becomes a chamber of obsidian night. With a mere thought, you tap into the emotions swirling within the hearts of those present. Careful to be subtle upon the intrusion as you do not want to expose the true extent of your abilities.

You summon only the most negative emotions like a maestro orchestrating a symphony. Screams erupt, drawing your lips upwards. You can feel resistance against your power and whether it is from your father or brother or even one of the other High Lords, you can’t tell.

Gathering all your pent up frustrations, you use it to fuel your strength, wanting to hold onto this moment of mayhem just a bit longer. It is only when you feel Beron’s heart racing, feel the trace of fear threatening to dim the fire in his veins that you let go.

In the blink of an eye, your tendrils of darkness disperse, succumbing to the resistance. The faelights around the ballroom shimmer to life once more and the moon’s light seeps back into the room. It casts an ethereal glow over you, revealing the calm and cool expression on your face. Yet, your eyes remain seething with the fury of a dark, raging storm.

Beron's scowl deepens at your display. He parts his mouth in disbelief, looking towards your father, who says nothing. Beron then looks back at you.

For once in his miserable life, he is at a loss for words. Pride swells in your chest and you push against the talons raking across your mind, wanting to bask in your small victory.

“I’m just a girl,” you finally say and then give a nonchalant shrug of your shoulders before turning to leave.

Reveling in the animosity radiating off of him, your smirk deepens as you recognize a faint trace of humiliation somewhere among the fire of his wrath.

The assembled crowd parts before you, their gazes a mixture of disdain, shock, and fear. You keep your head held high and eyes focused straight ahead. Dread begins to settle in, the onset of a headache from overexertion threatening to break your composure.

Still, you carry on, feigning nonchalance. The only sounds echoing through the room are the hushed whispers and the sharp click of your heels against the marble floors.

Yet, amidst the sea of wary onlookers, one figure stands apart.

Eris.

The heir to the Autumn court is leaning casually against the wall near the exit doors, his mother nowhere to be seen. The corner of his lips are upturned into a smirk, amber eyes alight with amusement and curiosity and perhaps, even something more.

Your steps threaten to falter as your eyes meets his. He looks back at you, holding your gaze with a searing intensity, it sends a shiver down your spine. He looks at you in a way no one ever has...as if he can see you for you who you really are.

Because you aren’t just a girl.

You’re the daughter of the Night Court. A shining star. A force to be reckoned with and one he finds himself irresistibly drawn to.

series masterlist

a/n: I honestly don't know how to feel about this one. I guess it's kind of a prequel to my upcoming one shot. Also, you can't tell me Eris wouldn't find anyone besting his dad like reader did in this hot lol

general tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria

#acotar imagine #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #acotar x you #eris x reader #eris x y/n #eris fanfiction #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra x y/n #eris vanserra x rhysand's sister #acotar x reader #acotar x y/n #eris vanserra fanfic #eris! his star au #eris vanserra #eris acotar

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surielstea · 1 month ago

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Giver and Receiver

Kinktober day 3: Worship + Thigh Riding

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x Courtesan!Reader

Summary: Eris teaches Reader what it’s like to be on the receiving end of pleasure.

A. Note: I cooked with this one I fear, mostly smut but when there IS plot you better believe it’s good.

7.2k words.

I walked into the throne room behind my Madame, a forced sultry smile on my red-painted lips, my hands clasped tightly behind my back, my posture straight as I peered up at the High Lord of Autumn through my lashes.

I was positioned in a line of seven other girls, all from the same business as me.

"Lord Beron," My Madame purrs, bowing at the waist, her short greying hair flowing with her as she dipped her head. We all followed suit, as instructed.

"Rise." He commanded and we obeyed, standing tall under his scrutinizing gaze. His eyes roamed over us for what felt like an eternity. Cold, analytical.

"Vedika is our most valued, and expensive girl," My Madame says after a moment of thick silence, placing her hands on the girl next to me. I swallowed thickly, steeling my features the way Vedika did. She was such a natural when it came to stuff like this, I envied her for it more than I envied her beauty.

I always struggled during The Choosing, especially by royals. They were so entitled, thought it was in their right to treat us more like objects than human beings, and perhaps it was, because we were harlots, the lowest class in a High Lord's eyes, despite my Madame's organization being the most prestigious of all courtesan companies.

"Who's your youngest?" Lord Beron asked with an arched brow and my stomach knotted. Oh gods, he was the worst kind of male, wasn't he?

My Madame didn't miss a beat as her hands moved to Clarissa's shoulders, we truly were just money bags to her. "That would be my dear Clarissa, turned forty only a week ago." She said, her voice like silk, smooth and fluid.

"I'll take her," The High Lord said, waving his hand and beckoning the young girl over. My Madame went with her, outstretching her hand as one of the courtiers placed a small coffer of gold into her hands. My madame's eyes nearly popped from her skull.

"My lord, this is far too much for one girl's service," she crooned, her tone sugary, no doubt hoping for future business.

I released a quiet, shaky breath, allowing myself to relax as my nerves ebb. He didn't pick me, thank the gods he didn't pick me.

The high lord didn't even cast her a glance, too focused on the girl he plucked from us as he said, "Give the others to my sons," He waved us off with a dismissive hand and my stomach lurched. "But be discreet, my wife needn't know I have whores roaming the manor," Beron ordered, and again, my Madame bowed, the rest of us following suit, as always.

My hands slightly shook, but I clasped them together behind my back and steeled my expression. Being chosen by a High Lord was one thing— at least he had some sort of leash, the crown bound him to some extent. But his sons? The ones who most likely had no chance of being heir anyway? They had nothing to lose. They could kill me and no one would bat an eye, one whores life for a royals entertainment. It happened more often than one might think.

I stifled my shallow breaths as we left the room, my Madame giving each of us directions to a Vanserra's room. Vedika glanced over at me, her warm brown eyes soft, and comforting.

Vedika taught me everything I knew, everything. She often stuck her neck out for me, in my first years as a mere seventeen-year-old I had told her I was terrified of the male I was assigned— so she offered her services for half the price to the male, and he was quick to ditch me for her. She returned later that night littered with bruises and marks, to this day I still don't think I could ever repay her.

"Vedika, you can go to the youngest of the brothers, he's the first door on your left, a real charmer apparently," My Madame hums. "A reward, for all the money you bring me," She purrs.

Vedika bows low, proper. "Thank you, mistress," She said, her voice soft and as lovely as a summer's night. She stood upright and gave me one last lingering look before disappearing down the hall.

"And you," My Madame sighs, looking me over. "The oldest will do for you," She clicks her tongue, hands coming to my shoulders, fixing my posture.

I bit down on my lip to stop it from trembling. The eldest Vanserra was known for his cruelty, renowned for the way he had treated The Morrigan, his former fiancée.

"Perhaps he'll beat some sense into you," Madame mused, clicking her tongue as she adjusted the sheer fabric of my gown. Her words hung in the air, and I wasn't sure if she meant them literally or figuratively. "Now, what do you say?"

I bow low, lower than Vedika had. "Thank you, mistress," I utter, willing my voice not to wobble.

"Go on then, last door down," She shoos. I rise from my bend and don't say another word as I stride down the hall, faux confidence in my movements as I pass every door, the sounds of moaning and grunting already being able to be heard from the adjacent rooms. My steps became more and more hesitant the closer I got to that last door, hands trembling as I came to a stop in front of it and raised my hand to knock.

I blinked away my fear and knocked twice, loud enough for him to hear without question, but still, delicate, to show that I was nowhere near a threat.

I rocked back on my heels anxiously, my stomach knotting itself into a tangled mess. The door swung open. I looked up, and up, and up. Meeting eyes of gold and amber and saffron.

I've heard talk of Eris Vanserra, but nowhere in his reputation did anyone mention how unfairly beautiful he was. His tousled auburn hair, brushed back like he'd run his fingers through it countless times, framed a face too sharp and striking to be kind. His skin, smooth and sun-kissed, was dusted with freckles over the bridge of his nose. His full lips parted, and I realized far too late that he was speaking to me.

"My, my," He smirked. "I'd say the gods have gifted me an angel if I didn't know any better." He crosses his muscular arms over his carved chest, leaning against the doorway and peering down at me. "What brings you to my chambers?"

"Your father..." I say, then wince. It'd most likely be best if I didn't mention his cheating, bastard of a father if my goal was to sleep with him. "I work for Madame Kamira's house," I explain, attempting my most sultry of voices. "We were called upon to service the Vanserra family, one for each son," I sum briefly, clenching my hands into fists behind my back, my manicured nails digging into my palms.

His eyes darkened with amusement as I clenched my hands into fists behind my back, nails digging into my palms. This was a game, and I was already losing.

Eris tilted his head slightly, his gaze flicking over me like I was something to be savored slowly, methodically. I fought to keep my breath steady, to maintain the façade of composure. My role here was clear: I was a courtesan, meant to please him, nothing more. The idea of taking anything for myself had never even crossed my mind. It wasn't allowed.

He pushed off the doorframe and stepped aside, motioning for me to enter. "Well then, let's see what all the fuss is about," he said smoothly, his voice a purr.

I hesitated for only a fraction of a second before crossing the threshold. His chambers were vast, dimly lit by the flickering glow of a hearth. The air smelled of smoke, cedar, and something faintly sweet, almost like cinnamon. Rich tapestries lined the walls, and a large bed dominated the room, draped in crimson and gold.

The door closed behind me with a soft click, the sound almost ominous in the silence. I could feel him watching me, and the weight of his gaze settled over my skin like a heavy, heated blanket. I prepared myself to do what I always did—to serve, to please. This was nothing new.

"Relax," Eris said, amusement dancing in his tone as he crossed the room, each step deliberate and predatory. "I don't bite. Not unless you ask me to."

I swallowed hard, my pulse quickening despite my best efforts. My hands still trembled slightly, but I clasped them in front of me, hoping to hide them. I'd been in situations like this before, but something about him—about Eris—was different. Dangerous.

"You seem nervous," he commented, his voice now closer than I expected. I turned slightly, only to find him mere inches away, towering over me with that same smug smirk on his lips.

"I'm not," I lied, though my voice wavered ever so slightly. I didn't understand why I felt so on edge. He was like every other male who'd paid for my company—so why was this different?

His amber eyes glinted with amusement as he reached out, brushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear. The touch was gentle, too gentle for someone with his reputation.

"Liar," he whispered, his breath warm against my skin.

My throat tightened, and I resisted the urge to shrink away. Instead, I tilted my chin up, meeting his gaze directly. Fine, I'd play this game.

"I'm here to serve you, my lord," I said, injecting as much confidence into my voice as I could muster. "How would you like me to begin?"

Eris chuckled, the sound low and rich, sending a shiver down my spine. "Bold," he mused, his hand trailing down my neck before dropping to his side. "But unnecessary. I have something else in mind."

Before I could ask what, he moved to the bed, sitting on the edge and leaning back slightly, his eyes never leaving mine. He patted his thigh once, a clear invitation.

Heat rushed to my cheeks, but I moved without hesitation, crossing the room to stand before him. His eyes darkened, the playful glint from earlier replaced by something deeper, more intense.

"On my thigh," he instructed, his voice soft but commanding. "Take your pleasure."

I froze. I couldn't have heard him right. Take my pleasure? No one had ever asked me to do that. I wasn't paid to find my own pleasure—I was paid to give it. I must've misunderstood. My body tensed, and confusion flickered across my face, though I tried to hide it. Surely he didn't mean—

"Go on," Eris coaxed, his amber eyes softening as he watched me hesitate. "Don't be afraid."

My breath caught. He wasn't telling me to focus on him—he wanted me to take control, to feel something for myself. The very idea felt foreign, like stepping into uncharted territory. But I couldn't let my confusion show. Not when he was watching me so intently.

With measured movements, I straddled his thigh, the smooth fabric of my gown brushing against his legs. His hands came to rest on my hips, holding me steady but not guiding me—he wanted to watch me, to see me take what I was never allowed to have.

"There's a good girl," he murmured, his fingers digging in ever so slightly, his approval radiating through his touch. "Now, get yourself off."

I bit down on my lip, my hands resting on his broad shoulders as I began to move. Slowly at first, testing, the friction of my core against his thigh sending jolts of heat through me. I wasn't used to this. It felt wrong, almost selfish. But his hands, his eyes—they were encouraging me to go on.

"Faster," he urged his voice a low rumble that sent another wave of heat pooling in my belly. "Don't hold back. I want to see how badly you need this." His words sent a shock through me, but I still didn't understand. I was supposed to make him feel good, wasn't I? Not myself. This was for his enjoyment, not mine. And yet, the way his hands gripped my hips, the way his eyes never left mine—he seemed more focused on me, on my pleasure, than anything else.

Eris's smirk faded slightly, replaced by something warmer, more patient. His hands guided me, helping me move against him, the friction intensifying with every roll of my hips. "Let go," he whispered, his voice full of command but laced with something softer. "This is for you. No one else."

I gasped, my grip tightening on his shoulders as the pleasure built inside me, coiling tighter and tighter. His praise, the way he was watching me so closely—it was almost too much. Every time his thigh flexed beneath me, it sent another wave of rapture through my body, until I was trembling with need. But I didn't know how to give in.

"You're beautiful like this," Eris whispered, his lips dangerously close to my ear. "Absolutely stunning."

His words were the final push I needed, and with one more roll of my hips, I shattered. A soft cry escaped my lips as pleasure tore through me, my body convulsing against his thigh. His hands held me steady, keeping me from collapsing as I rode out the wave of ecstasy.

For a long moment, I couldn't move, couldn't think. The only sound in the room was my ragged breathing, the world narrowing down to the heat of Eris's body beneath mine and the smug satisfaction radiating from him.

When I finally looked up, his smirk had softened into something almost, tender. He raised a hand to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing over my flushed skin.

"There you go," he murmured, his voice full of approval. "You did well, angel."

His praise sent a lingering warmth through me, and despite everything, I found myself leaning into his touch. For a moment, just a moment, it felt like more than just a transaction. But I knew better than to let myself believe it.

Eris pulled back, the heat in his eyes still simmering beneath the surface. "You're not done yet," he said, his voice a low growl that made my pulse quicken once more. "Nowhere near it, baby." Eris's grip tightened on my hips, pulling me more securely onto his lap. The warmth of his body seeped through me, and I fought to steady my breathing as the remnants of pleasure still pulsed through my veins. His hands, large and sure, never left me—there was no hurry in his movements, no sense of urgency. Only calm control, as if he had all the time in the world to coax another reaction out of me.

I was still reeling from what had just happened, struggling to comprehend it. To understand how someone like him, someone with such power, and such a cruel reputation, could be so patient. Could focus on me like this.

"Look at you," he whispered, his hands sliding from my hips to my waist, then upward, tracing the curves of my body with deliberate care. "You've never been worshiped, have you?" The words sent a shiver through me, a reminder of how foreign all of this felt. I should have felt more in control, and more confident, but instead, I felt, vulnerable. Exposed in a way I hadn't ever been before.

"I don't—" I started to say, unsure of how to finish. I didn't understand how this was supposed to work. I didn't know what he wanted from me. "How can I service you, My Lord?" I manage to say, despite my orgasm still consuming me down to my very bones.

Eris leaned in, brushing his lips lightly against the curve of my jaw, just beneath my ear. His breath was warm against my skin, sending a ripple of heat down my spine. "It's simple," he murmured. "You find release, and I find mine from watching you unravel."

Before I could respond, his hands began to move again, gliding down my sides with an almost reverent touch. Every caress was measured, and controlled, as though he was savoring every second, every inch of my skin. It was unlike anything I had ever experienced before.

"Don't think," he said softly, his voice barely more than a breath against my neck. "Just feel." He cooed and my brain faltered when I tried wrapping my head around it. This was work, my job, I was being paid for this, this... idolatry.

"Good girl," he whispered, the praise low and warm. His hands continued their slow exploration, his thumbs brushing against the sensitive skin of my inner thighs, making me shiver. "I want you to get used to this."

I tensed, biting down on my lip to stifle the soft whimper that threatened to escape. Get used to what? This attention? This feeling? The thought of him focusing on me, of being the one receiving pleasure, still felt strange. But the way his hands moved, the way he murmured soft words of encouragement—it made something inside me melt.

"Eris, I don't... I'm not used to—" I started to say, but it was too much to even voice, to express.

"I know," he said, his voice soothing. "But you're going to learn because I'm going to teach you." He said against my throat, my heart raced, and for the first time, I allowed myself to believe him. To believe that maybe—just maybe—this wasn't about control or power or payment. Maybe he truly did want to give me something in return. Something that had never been offered to me before.

"Relax," Eris repeated, his fingers grazing the tops of my thighs, sending sparks of heat through my body. "Let me worship you."

Worship.

The word sent a tremor through me, and I couldn't stop the soft exhale that escaped my lips. Worship. I had spent years learning how to worship others, and how to make them feel like gods beneath my touch. But this, this was different. This was Eris Vanserra, a male of unimaginable power, offering to gods damned to worship me.

His hands continued their slow, deliberate path, moving higher, his fingers dancing over my skin with reverence. Every touch sent a new wave of heat coursing through me, and I felt my control slipping away, unraveling beneath his ministrations.

"You're tense," he said quietly, his voice full of understanding. "You don't have to be. Not here. Not with me."

My breath hitched as his hands moved back to my waist, pulling me closer to him. The warmth of his body pressed against mine, solid and grounding. I felt his lips brush against the shell of my ear, the sensation so delicate it sent a shiver through me.

"Let me take care of you," he murmured, his lips brushing against my ear in a ghost of a kiss. "Let me teach you what it's like to be praised."

My chest tightened the vulnerability of his words settling deep inside me. I didn't know how to let go. I didn't know how to take what he was offering. But I wanted to. Oh, gods, I wanted to.

Before I could overthink it, I nodded, the motion small, almost imperceptible. But it was enough.

Eris's smirk softened into something more tender, and he pressed his lips fully to mine, the kiss slow and deliberate. His hands roamed my body with respectful intent, each touch drawing more pleasure, more heat from me than I thought possible.

And for the first time, I allowed myself to revel in it.

His hands were everywhere. Not in a rush, but in a way that felt like he was memorizing every inch of me. His palms skimmed my sides, the curve of my waist, the softness of my thighs. He explored me like I was something precious, a treasure to be savored rather than a tool for pleasure. I'd never felt anything like it.

My mind struggled to catch up. This wasn't supposed to be how it went. I was meant to please him, to give. And yet here he was, still, making me feel like I was the center of the universe. Like he was here for me, and not the other way around.

His lips moved from my mouth, trailing down the side of my neck, his breath warm against my skin. A soft moan escaped me as his tongue flicked against the hollow of my throat, and I felt him smile against my skin.

His hands gripped the hem of my gown and slowly began to lift it. I inhaled sharply, my nerves flaring, but his movements were steady and patient. He paused, giving me the chance to stop him, but I didn't. I couldn't. My body, and my mind—they both craved more.

The gown slid over my hips, the cool air of the room hitting my heated skin as the fabric pooled around my waist. I could feel my pulse racing, could hear the soft rustle of the fabric, but all I could focus on was him—Eris. His hands were on me, his gaze drinking me in as though he had never seen anything more captivating.

"Beautiful," he whispered, his voice filled with awe. His hands rested on my thighs now, thumbs drawing soft circles over my skin, warming me with every touch. "Let me see all of you."

I hesitated, but there was no judgment in his eyes, only a desire that burned brighter than any fire in the Autumn Court. Slowly, I shifted, letting him lift my gown fully off of me, leaving me bare before him.

Eris's gaze raked over my exposed body, his pupils dilating as he took me in. But instead of feeling vulnerable or objectified like I had countless times before, I felt powerful. Wanted. Craved.

His hands slid back up my thighs, slow and reverent, until he reached the apex of my legs. My breath hitched, and I clenched my thighs together instinctively, but Eris's touch remained gentle, coaxing.

"Relax," he murmured, brushing his lips against my collarbone. "This is for you."

I exhaled shakily, the unfamiliar words settling deep inside me. He wasn't taking; he was giving. It was a concept I struggled to grasp—how could someone like him, a Vanserra, want me to take what I wanted?

His fingers grazed higher, parting my legs gently, giving me space to breathe as he settled between them. I bit my lip, the anticipation building with every second, with every brush of his hands on my skin. His gaze flicked up to mine, and the molten gold in his eyes was enough to make my breath catch.

"Be good for me, yeah?" he said again, his voice like a warm caress. His fingers moved between my legs, slow and teasing, brushing against my most sensitive spot.

The touch sent a shockwave through me, and I gasped, my hands clutching his shoulders for stability. His thumb circled my clit, gentle but firm, applying just the right amount of pressure. I could feel the tension building inside me, winding tighter and tighter with every stroke.

"Take what you need," he whispered, his lips ghosting over my jaw, my neck. "This is yours. I'm yours tonight."

I whimpered, my head falling back as the pleasure began to mount. His fingers worked me expertly, drawing out sounds I hadn't known I was capable of making. Every caress, every touch, was designed to make me come undone.

But as the heat built, I couldn't shake the disbelief. This was meant to be for him, wasn't it? I was supposed to serve. Yet here I was, trembling and teetering on the edge of something I'd never felt before, something overwhelming and wonderful.

Eris seemed to sense my hesitation because his hand slowed, his fingers teasing rather than giving, prolonging the agony. He leaned in, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear. "You deserve to feel this," he whispered, his voice deep and rough with desire. "I want to hear you say it."

I could barely form words, could barely think past the haze of pleasure clouding my mind, but his command pulled something raw from me. "I— I deserve this," I whispered, the words trembling on my lips.

His smile against my skin was wicked, triumphant. "Attagirl."

And then, before I could fully process it, he slid two fingers inside me, slow and deliberate, filling me in a way that made my back arch off the bed. I gasped, my body instinctively pressing against his hand, craving more of that delicious friction.

"You feel so perfect," he breathed, his lips pressing hot kisses to my neck as his fingers moved in and out, setting a slow but torturous rhythm. "So tight."

I moaned, my hands fisting in the sheets as I rocked against his hand, chasing the pleasure he was so expertly giving me. His thumb returned to that sensitive spot, circling, teasing, driving me higher and higher.

I was on the edge, teetering between control and chaos, the tension building to a crescendo. His fingers thrust deeper, faster, and the coil inside me snapped, sending waves of pleasure crashing through me.

I cried out, my body convulsing as the orgasm ripped through me, leaving me trembling in its wake. Eris didn't stop, didn't relent—his fingers continued their delicious torment, drawing every last bit of pleasure from me until I was spent, gasping for air.

When I finally came down from the high, Eris withdrew his hand slowly, and gently, and I collapsed against him, my body trembling, my mind spinning.

"You're perfect," he whispered, his voice soft and full of reverence. "And I'm not done with you yet."

Before I could protest, he shifted, pulling me beneath him and laying me down on his enormous mattress, his body hot and solid against mine. I could feel his hardness pressing against my thigh, and I swallowed hard, my body still humming from the aftershocks of pleasure.

Eris leaned down, capturing my lips in a searing kiss, and I felt his hand slide between us, positioning himself at my entrance. He pulled back just enough to meet my gaze, his eyes molten with desire.

"You alright? Think you're ready for me?"

I nodded, breathless, my heart pounding in my chest and with a slow, deliberate thrust, Eris entered me, filling me completely.

I gasped, my elastic walls stretching around him, adjusting to the sensation of him deep inside me. The weight of his body, the way he fit perfectly between my thighs—it was overwhelming, like he was made for this, made to take me to places I'd never allowed myself to go.

He paused, letting me adjust, his gaze fixed on mine. There was something in the way he looked at me like I was the only thing that mattered, like he could read every flicker of hesitation, every burst of pleasure crossing my face.

"Breathe," he murmured, his voice soft and coaxing. He brushed his lips against my jaw, the warmth of his breath grounding me. "You're doing so well, sweet girl."

I let out a shaky breath, nodding as I tried to relax into the sensation. His praise made something warm bloom inside me, something unfamiliar but not unwelcome. The tension that had coiled around me since I stepped into his chambers began to unravel, slowly giving way to something softer, more intoxicating.

He shifted his hips, moving within me, at a slow, languid pace that sent heat spiraling through my veins. Each thrust was controlled, and measured, like he was savoring every second, every sound that escaped me.

"I want to hear you," he whispered against my ear. "Every moan, every gasp. Don't hold back."

I bit my lip, stifling the sounds that threatened to spill over, but his next thrust, deeper and more purposeful, tore a moan from my throat. My body arched beneath him, seeking more of that delicious friction, more of the pleasure that was building between us like a fire.

Eris groaned softly, his breath ragged as he leaned down, pressing a kiss to the curve of my shoulder. His hands gripped my hips, guiding me to meet his slow rhythm, each movement a reminder of just how much control he had—control he was choosing to give me.

"You feel so perfect," he breathed, his voice raw. "Like you were made for me."

The heat in his words, the way they wrapped around me like silk, made me clench around him. His pace quickened slightly, his control slipping just enough for me to feel the urgency building beneath the surface.

I let out a soft whimper, my hands grasping at his shoulders as I pulled him closer, needing more of him, needing to drown in the way he made me feel. It was too much and not enough all at once—every thrust bringing me closer to that edge, to the place where my body and mind could no longer resist.

Eris seemed to sense my rising need, his hips snapping forward with a little more force, his thrusts becoming harder, deeper. His lips found mine again, devouring me in a kiss that was hungry, desperate. He swallowed my moans, his body grinding against mine in a way that made me lose all sense of the world outside of this moment.

"You're close, aren't you?" he rasped, his forehead pressed against mine. His hand slid between our bodies, his thumb finding that sensitive bundle of nerves between my legs, circling it with just the right amount of pressure. "I want to feel you come around me."

The way he touched me, the way his words wrapped around me like a command and a plea, it sent me hurtling toward the edge. I couldn't hold on any longer, couldn't resist the pull of the pleasure that built inside me.

I cried out, my body trembling beneath him as the orgasm ripped through me, stronger than anything I had ever felt before. My muscles clenched around him, dragging him deeper, and I could feel him groan, feel his body tense as he chased his own release.

"That's it," he murmured, his voice a hoarse whisper. "Taking me so well." His pace quickened, his thrusts more erratic now as he sought his own pleasure, the fire in his eyes burning brighter as he watched me fall apart beneath him. I was barely coherent, my mind lost to the pleasure, but I could feel him—every inch of him, every sound, every touch, searing into my skin.

With a final, deep thrust, he groaned low and guttural, his body shuddering as he found his release inside me. The warmth of him, the way he collapsed against me, breathless and spent, sent aftershocks rippling through my body.

For a long moment, neither of us moved, the only sound in the room the soft, ragged breaths we shared. Eris's weight was comforting, and grounding, and I found myself clinging to him, my hands still tangled in his hair, my body still trembling from the intensity of what had just passed between us.

He shifted slightly, pressing a soft kiss to my temple, his hand brushing soothingly over my side. "You did so well," he whispered, his voice full of admiration. "So perfect."

I didn't know what to say, how to process the fact that someone had just taken the time to worship me, to make me feel something I had never been allowed to feel. But as I lay there, wrapped in his warmth, I couldn't help but feel... cherished. For the first time, I wasn't just a courtesan. I wasn't just here to serve.

He pulled back slightly, his fingers trailing over my flushed skin, his eyes soft as they met mine. "Are you alright?" he asked, genuine concern lacing his voice.

I nodded, unable to form words yet, still coming down from the high he had pulled me into. He smiled at that, a small, satisfied smirk that made my heart skip a beat.

After it was over, we lay tangled together, our bodies slick with sweat, my chest still heaving from the intensity of it all. Eris's breath was warm against my skin, his hands trailing over my back in slow, soothing circles. The quiet intimacy that followed the storm of passion was disarming, and unfamiliar. I was used to being dismissed, sent away with a few gold coins and a soul a little dimmer than when I had arrived.

But Eris, asked me to stay. So I did. He held me close, his touch reverent, as if I was something precious, something to be cherished, not discarded.

"You're trembling," he whispered against my temple, his lips brushing the area. "Are you cold?"

I wasn't, but I nodded anyway, unsure how to explain that the tremors were more from the emotional upheaval than any physical discomfort. Without a word, Eris shifted, reaching for the blankets and pulling them over both of us, wrapping me in warmth. His arm remained around me, pulling me back against his chest, his fingers stroking my arm gently. For the first time in what felt like forever, I felt safe.

"Rest," he murmured, his voice soft and comforting. "You've earned it." It was an order I found myself willing to obey. My body, exhausted from the overwhelming pleasure, began to give way to the heavy pull of sleep. I hadn't realized how much I craved this—this gentleness, this quiet comfort. The idea that I could just be held, without expectation, without obligation.

Before long, the steady rise and fall of Eris's breathing lulled me into a deep, dreamless sleep.

When I woke, the room was bathed in the dim light of early morning. Eris was still beside me, his arm draped lazily over my waist, his face softened in sleep. I lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, my thoughts a tangled mess of confusion and... and something else. Something I wasn't ready to name.

What had happened last night—what he had done to me—had altered something deep inside me. Eris hadn't just touched my body, he had touched a part of me I hadn't known existed. He had made me feel like more than just a tool for someone else's desires. At that moment, I hadn't been just a courtesan. I had been a woman, his woman, worthy of pleasure and tenderness.

But as the warmth of that realization settled over me, so did the cold truth. He was the son of a High Lord. I was nothing more than a whore.

The thought hit me like a weight in my chest, making it hard to breathe. This couldn't be real. Whatever had passed between us last night couldn't mean anything. It couldn't. And yet, the way he had touched me, the way he had looked at me—like I was something more—had shaken everything I thought I knew about my place in this world.

How could I ever go back to who I was before? How could I move on from this, from him, when he had shown me a version of myself I had never seen?

I turned my head slightly, studying the sharp lines on his face, and the soft fall of his red hair across the pillow. He was beautiful, yes, but more than that, he was dangerous—dangerous in the way he made me hope. Hope for something I had no right to even dream of.

But what other choice did I have?

I closed my eyes, swallowing against the lump in my throat. I had to be realistic. This was one night. One perfect, beautiful night, but it couldn't be anything more. He would go back to his life, to his duties as a lord's son, and I would return to Madame Kamira's house, to my place among the other courtesans.

Still, as I lay there in his arms, the warmth of his body pressed against mine, I couldn't stop the yearning that twisted deep in my chest. I wanted more. I wanted to know what other nights with him might be like, what it would feel like to be worshipped by him again, to be held like I was something precious. But even as the thought bloomed in my mind, I felt the sting of reality pulling me back.

Eris stirred beside me, his golden eyes fluttering open. He blinked a few times, focusing on me, and for a brief, heart-stopping moment, I saw something soft in his gaze. Something that made my chest tighten with a dangerous mix of longing and fear.

"Good morning," he said, his voice warm and inviting. "I was afraid I'd dreamt you." His voice was still affected by sleep, deep and groggy.

"Oh? Did I leave that much of an impression?" I replied, a smile already tugging at my lips before I could stop it. "I'm very real."

"Thank the gods for that," he mused, propping his head up on his elbow and reaching over with his free hand, brushing my most likely messy hair from my face. The action was so simple, yet intimate. "And how do you feel? Last night was quite eventful."

"Eventful," I echoed softly, a slight laugh escaping my lips. "That's one way to put it."

Eris chuckled, the sound rich and deep, and it made my heart skip again. "I could come up with other words but I think you'd turn red if I did." He hummed, leaning closer, his nose brushing against mine.

"You might be right," I murmured, growing shy with our proximity— despite the fact that he had me grinding on him just last night. I glance away and to my relief, he rears back. "I have to admit, you surprised me," I confess.

He dips down, his lips brushing against my neck. "Yeah? How so angel?" He asked while pressing a soft kiss to one of the marks he left mere hours ago.

"You made me feel things I thought weren't capable," I utter, peering down at him.

His lips paused on my neck, his gaze flicking up, staring at me through his brows, studying me. "And what is it you felt?"

"Adoration," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "Like I was more than just, a service." I paused, swallowing the lump in my throat.

A slow smile spread across his lips, and he moved back up, his breath brushing against my cheek. "Angel, you’re not a service." His voice dropped to a teasing whisper. "You could've asked for anything last night, and I would've given it to you."

"Oh? Anything?" I teased back, arching a brow.

"Anything," he confirmed, his voice deepening as his fingers trailed softly down my arm. "You deserve to be adored. In fact, I rather enjoyed worshipping you."

I rolled my eyes, though my pulse was racing. "You have such a way with words, don't you?"

He smirked, not missing a beat. "You're just realizing this now?" He asked, running a hand up my shoulder, past my jaw to cup my cheek.

"Maybe," I shot back with a smirk of my own. "I was a bit, distracted last night." His thumb grazed my bottom lip as I spoke, his gaze never leaving mine.

"You weren't the only one." For a moment, the playful tone between us softened. My heart thudded against my chest as I realized how much I wanted to stay here, basking in his attention. His gaze flicked down to my lips and I quickly reminded myself of the reality we lived in—the boundaries we couldn't ignore.

"I should go," I said suddenly, my voice shaky as I slipped from his arms, pulling the sheets around me like a protective barrier. "I have other clients to tend to." The weight of my words settled heavily in the air, and I saw the flicker of disappointment cross his face, quickly masked by resolve.

"I'll see you again, won't I?" His tone was earnest as I slipped from the bed, pulling on my discarded gown and trying to ignore the way his eyes never left my figure once.

"Depends, will you call for me?" I tilt my head with a teasing smile, he looks up at me, tucking a muscular arm behind his head— it was an effort not to slip back into bed next to the heir.

"Every night, if I have to," He grinned like a cat.

"Careful, you'll run out of money before you know it," I taunt, reaching down and brushing a tuft of red hair from his forehead, I hadn’t meant to— but my body wasn’t my own when I was around him.

"You seem to underestimate how deep my pockets go, sweetheart," He purred, I ran my fingertips down the side of his face in a caress as gentle as a lovers.

"Do I?" I ask playfully, and he catches my wrist before I can brush my thumb over his slightly swollen lips. His hold was soft, yet as immovable as iron, a warning.

"I might just buy you all for myself if you keep teasing me," He suggests and my breath hitched at the idea. He arches a brow.

"You like that idea?" It was his turn to smirk. "Leaving your Madames house and becoming my personal whore," His hand slipped into mine, bringing my palm to his lips and kissing it gently. "Lover behind closed doors?" He suggests and I swallow thickly, not allowing myself to even imagine the fantasy— nor think about how desperately I wished for that.

"And when you grow bored of me?" I ask. "Will you cast me to the streets?"

He looked as if he might have scoffed at the idea if it weren't for the glimmer of hope he caught in my eyes. "Bored of you? My angel, I've only laid with you for a night. It'll be lifetimes before I'm done with the list of things I wish to do to you." He purred and my heart fluttered, gut twisting at the promise of pleasure. "Are you sure that's what you want?" He added and I doubt I had ever nodded in agreement to something faster in my life.

"Yes— please," I blurt and he chuckled, kissing my palm again.

"Then come back to bed, and when your Madame comes to riot for your return I'll give her triple what she thinks you're worth," He declared and I blushed, unsure what to say to convey how eternally grateful I was. He tugged on my hand and all I could do was get back into bed beside him.

"My angel," He whispered softly, and his next words seemed to leave a mark on me more permanent than any of the ones he had given to me last night. "You deserve every dream you've dared to wish for, let me give them to you.”

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