#tie between farmer and artist but leaning more towards farmer

[missbrightsky]

Bitch Is A Five Letter Word

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Chapter 3: Downtown

warning: mention of past sexual assault and plotless smut at the beginning, skip to the first break if you don’t want to read it 

The world was dim, tinged with red around the edges. She was warm, but there was weight pressing down on her. It was familiar and comforting rather than strange and unwelcome. Feyre pushed through the dim light, swimming through her unconscious mind to meet the new day only to be greeted by her boyfriend pinning her down to the bed.

Rhys was gently nibbling up and down her neck, tracing the well-known path from her ear to her collarbone, one she hoped he would never tire of following. She sighed and stretched underneath him, arching slightly into his lean frame.

“Good morning, Feyre darling,” he murmured into her ear on one of his passes.

She smiled, closing her eyes again to keep them in this moment and slid her hands into his mussed-up hair.

His hands wandered lower, following the lines of her body until they hooked around the edges of her underwear.

Last night, Feyre was too exhausted to do little more than brush her teeth, kick off her jeans and pull on a well-worn shirt that might’ve been Rhys’s at some point. She was completely out by the time he came upstairs and got into bed.

Now he was making up for lost time, pressing kisses down her thigh following her underwear until they disappeared under the sheets. He slid his hands back up under her shirt, thumbs skirting around her nipples, gently teasing them into attention.

Feyre released a breathy moan, pressing her legs together for any friction she could get since Rhys seemed to be content to only play with her.

“Not so fast, after last night, all you need to do it relax and just let me take care of you,” he whispered against her skin, forcing her legs apart to settle between them. Feyre let out a whimper, wanting to pull him back up to continue his treatment of her neck. To taste him on her lips while he entered her.

Her nails scraped along his shoulders and scalp, begging him to came back up and give her what she wanted.

“Ah, ah, ah darling, keep acting like that and I’ll have to tie you up,” he chuckled, breath fanning over her entrance. Feyre moved to grab the pillow above her head, biting her lip to keep a retort from leaving them. The sooner she complied to his demands, the sooner he would give her what she wanted.

Satisfied that Rhys could work without the distraction of her hands, he turned to the wetness in front of his nose. He licked a long stripe up her core and circled her clit with his lips. Gently sucking on it caused Feyre to buck into his mouth, moaning for him to pick up the pace.

Rhys was in no hurry; he had woken up before his alarm and had taken one look at Feyre’s sleeping form before deciding to wake her up himself. He repeated his pattern of tracing long lines up her slit, each time probing a bit deep into her depths.

Feyre fisted her hands into the pillow, biting hard into her lower lip to keep from screaming out her frustration at him. Her head was sore from the fight last night but it’s throbbing sensation was dulled as her world pinpointed to where his tongue was.

She lost the battle of crying out when he suddenly sank a finger deep inside of her accompanied by his teeth gently scrapping against her sensitive clit. Feyre arched hard into his mouth and hand, so close to her release.

Rhys could feel her walls clenching around his finger and withdrew it completely, his lips also leaving its duties at the apex of her thighs. “Not so fast, I don’t want you rushing through my playtime.” Rhys brought his finger to her mouth, tracing her lips, her tongue slipping out to taste herself and how wet he made her.

She whined in the back of her throat as he turned to running his hands up and down her calves, so far from where she wanted them. His lips were lazily kissing the inside of her the soft flesh of her thighs, allowing her to back off the edge of her climax.

Once she stopped moving beneath him and her breathing calmed, he returned to his prior attentions.

Without warning, he pushed his index and middle finger into her, his thumb pressing down on her clit. Feyre arched off the bed at that, begging for him to continue, begging for him to allow her to come.

Rhys’s midnight blue eyes guttered with desire, seeing what he could do to her with one hand practically tied behind his back. He removed his thumb and replaced it with the flat of his tongue, swirling the tip around her hood.

She whined in earnest, wondering what she did do to deserve his wicked treatment so early in the day.

Since Feyre had followed his commands to keep her hands to herself, he decided that she earned the right to tip over the cliff edge he was making her walk.

Keeping his one hand moving inside of her, curling his fingers every time he moved them out, he reached up with his other hand to palm her breast, brushing his thumb over the erect nipple.

Soon lightning shot down Feyre’s spine as her release barreled through her. She screamed his name, the sound and taste of her alone nearly bringing him to his own edge.

For a moment, they both lay there breathing, soaking in the afterglow of her orgasm. Rhys slid back up her body to cage her in with his arms, she could feel how hard he was through his thin pajama bottoms.

Feyre attempted to work a hand between them, determined to not let him go until she felt him inside of her.

Rhys only pressed down more on her body, effectively stopping any advances. He knew that if she got a hold of him, they would both be late leaving their home.

He crushed her mouth to his as an apology for stopping their morning fun and hopped out of bed to jump into the shower.

Feyre swiped at his retreating ass, not wanting to let him go yet even though he was being the responsible one. They both needed to start their day. Besides, if she was fast enough, she could catch him in the shower before he thought to lock the door.

Feyre and Rhys arrived at Velaris Precinct 1 a bit after 8 in the morning. It was an old building, almost 250 years at this point. Not only did the current station had a rich history but the land that it rested on did too. It was built upon the burned down remains of the old police station, which was built upon the remains of barracks that used  to house the city’s militia.

Velaris itself was almost 5,000 years old. Founded by those who saw the corruption of the continent and Prythian, those who wanted a haven for artists and architects, fishers and farmers. The outskirts of the old city was ringed by remains of the wall that used to protect the city, now reduced to crumbling stones that were marked by heritage sites and were visited by school groups.

As all cities do, Velaris had expanded far past its old boundaries. Sprawling suburbs and tightly packed condos created pockets and swathes of wealth and poverty. Although the original founders sought to escape the darkness of man, it followed them eventually, like a shadow reappearing in the light of dawn.

The police did their best keeping the city safe, but they cannot be everywhere, prevent everything. Gangs rose and fell from power, the seedy underbelly constantly changing, neither growing nor shrinking.

Rhys got his start in the 1st precinct; him, Cass, Az and Mor all graduated from college and enrolled into academy together. Six months later, it spat them out and had them working long hours. Late nights as beat cops exposed them to all walks of life. Rhys and Mor grew up in wealthy homes, their families of old money with expectations that their careers would be those of socialites, not society’s servants. Cassian was taken in first by the Noctis’s, followed by Azriel a year later.

The adoptive brothers gave them connections to life outside of money, but nothing prepared any of them to the brutality of humanity. After a long shift, sometimes there was nothing they could do but go home and sit in silence with each other, grateful for the bonds they had.

Rhys, Mor and Cass decided to climb the department ladder, working harder than their colleagues so that they could be in a position to keep Velaris’s citizens safe from corruption and terror. Az took the route of detective, his friends swearing up and down he had the ability to blend into the shadows and from there learned everything about his case subjects.

Three years ago, their old chief of police stepped down and the city council put Rhys in his place. Some said that it was because his family was one of the most influential in the city. Rhys knew that his background helped him get the position, but that didn’t stop him from exceeding his duties and earning every bit of respect that followed the title “Chief”.

And so, there he was three years later, walking hand in hand with Feyre into his precinct, greeting every officer by name, ready to start the day by getting a handle on Hybern’s play for her.  

“Good morning, Chief,” Mor quipped, “and good morning, Queen Kickass,” with a smile to Feyre. “You ready to give your statement?” Mor was his lieutenant, in charge of taking Rhys’s and Amren’s will and making it happen in the department.

“Yes,” she responded, but she remembered the look on Mor’s face last night when she saw Eris. Hopefully she can get Mor to focus more on how easy it was to put them on the ground rather than who she was putting there.

“Chief,” a cold voice cut through the morning chatter of the room. Rhys turned towards his captain, Amren. “I have an update on the Hybern men Feyre put in the hospital last night,” she said with an approving nod towards her.

“Let’s go to my office,” Rhys led the way for the four of them, closing the door behind him.

He sat in his chair behind the large, oak desk littered with reports and personal effects.

“Eris Vanserra has a mild concussion with moderate bruising on the jaw and chest, he’s expected to make a full recovery.” Disappointment flashed on Mor’s face but disappeared quickly enough that Feyre wondered if she was imagining things. “Cairn Vanserra has only mild bruising on his abdomen, no head trauma despite being knocked out, but that’s to be credited to him taking on a skilled fighter.”

“Have they decided to cooperate with us?” Rhys tried to hide the hope in his voice, he needed a crack in the case and a high-ranking informant would be the perfect breakthrough.

“No, Eris and his brother are staying tight lipped. We know Hybern is serious about keeping everything under wraps and that seems to even scare Eris who’s one of his top people.”

Rhys grimaced, it was going to be another long day of weeding information out of whoever they could.

Amren continued, “Last night, another warehouse what broken into.” All eyes shot to look at her. “No medical equipment this time but Hyberns’ men stole pharmaceuticals and chemicals. Again, nothing used in the normal drug making process.”

All brows in the room creased, each in deep thought over what he was after.

Mor spoke up first, “Is it possible that he’s trying his hand at biological warfare?” Feyre’s cheeks paled a bit at that. Drugs could be contained but a full outbreak in their city could bring death to every doorstep.

“Is it possible,” Rhys said slowly, “I’ll send a full report to our lab team to see if they have any guesses. I also have a friend that has consulted for us a few times and owes me a favor, I’ll send it to him too.”

Amren gave a short nod at this, “Then there’s nothing else to report at this time, Chief.”

He heaved a sigh and waved his hand, a silent dismissal. Amren opened the door and left without any further remarks. Mor followed suit, amber eyes flickering to Feyre as she lingered.

Feyre rounded the desk and perched on his side. She reached over to him and lightly ran her fingers through his neatly styled hair and down the side of his face.

Rhys briefly closed his eyes, enjoying his girlfriends’ comfort before steeling himself for the work ahead.

Sensing his mood had lifted slightly, Feyre left the office with a brush of her lips on his cheek and went to go find Mor.

Feyre wove through the desks of the precinct to where Mor’s desk was tucked in a corner near the briefing room, there she could look out across the office to mitigate any problems that might arise.

“Want me to give my statement here or in the interrogation room?” dropping her voice a bit at the end to give the question a false sense of seriousness.

Mor snorted, “We have to keep things official so it’ll have to be the interrogation room. Let’s go grab Az and we can get started, I’m sure you want to get to your studio.”

The pair set off to grab the detective that was lurking near the bullpen hoping to overhear any helpful news from off the streets.

He silently fell into step with the two as they entered the hallway that held a handful of interrogation rooms. They entered the first one on the left, Feyre taking a seat in the cold chair on one side of the table while the other two settled down opposite to her.

“How are you after last night?” Az’s cool voice questioned, he looked passive but his eyes held real concern, even though she was the one to walk away relatively unscathed.

“A few bumps and bruises but nothing worse than the time you put me on my ass in the ring.” She and him had sparred only once and she hasn’t had the patience to do it again. Az had accompanied Cass to one of their sparring days and Feyre managed to get him in the ring with her.

She knew she was fast, one of her advantages over Cassian, but Az seemed to move in and out of shadows. As soon as the fight had started, he was behind her, pinning her arms to where she couldn’t budge. Feyre had nearly ripped her arms out of her sockets trying to and escape him. Again and again, round after round and every time he was faster and smarter, until she was sweaty, bruised and face down on the floor not willing to get up again.

Az let out a low huff at their shared memory, he knew she was still frustrated by his sparring ability but it hadn’t affected their friendship.

“State your full name for the record.”

“Feyre Lorraine Archeron.”

“Wait what?” Mor pulled up short in surprise, “That sounds like something my great-aunt whatever would be named.”

“It was after my great-aunt whatever,” Feyre mumbled, “my mother had the brilliant idea to keep it a family name.”

“Oh, sorry. Back on track, please recount in as much detail about the events of last night, Wednesday, October 3rd.”

For the second time in 24 hours, Feyre laid out the fight in the alleyway, except with more interruptions, this time for Azriel.

What were they wearing? Were they like street clothes or of finer quality? Did she see anyone following her the past few days, if so, what did they look like? What direction did they come from? Has she gotten any odd emails or text messages from people that might have been posing as potential clients?

She answered each one the best she could. Throughout it all, Feyre kept glancing at Mor to gauge her reactions. She had stayed mostly silent, allowing Az to ask the questions, opting to take notes instead with her eyes downcast.

Once Az had seemed to run out of questions, he picked up on the tension between the two women and excused himself to type up her statement and answers.

After the door had snicked shut behind him, Mor let out a long breath, her usually lively brown eyes muted.

“Eris and I have known each other all our lives.”

Feyre fought to keep the shock off her face. How did Mor have such close ties to someone that was now working for Hybern? Rhys had to know about this.

“His parents and mine knew each other from the country club. Brunch on Sundays, the pool during the summer, tennis lessons, we saw each other there often.” But not by choice, she left hanging in the air.

“I don’t remember much about what he was like when he was really young but the older he got, the worse he became. Pinching me under the table at meals, holding me under the water a bit too long for children to be playing, a stray ball hit too precisely in my direction. I begged my parents to leave me at home with the staff, promising that I would stay in my room and read, but they always dragged me kicking and screaming out of there anyways.

“My parents are old fashioned, they had a vision for the two of us, a marriage of wealth and genetics to strengthen our family pedigree. And Eris fit the bill perfectly. It wasn’t until I was a teenager that I was finally able to fight back and managed to stay away from him.”

She let out another long breath, this one shaky and rough with suppressed tears.

“Hey,” Feyre closed the space from across the table, grabbing one of Mor’s hands in both of hers, “you don’t have to go any farther.”

Mor gave a small shake of her head and gave Feyre’s hands a weak squeeze.

“I came back from my first year at college, the happiest I had been in a long time. Now that I was out of my parents’ house, I was able to be who I really was. Prythian U was when I met Andromache, my first girlfriend. She was in my intro to law class and had the most beautiful, untamed curls.” A smile at the distant memory that faded quickly.

“My high school friends invited me to a party at one of their houses. They promised it would just be a small kickback with close friends. I don’t know why I believed them.

“The only way I was really able to stand being around them was with a few drinks in me, they were just so… shallow, but I needed a night away from my parents. That’s when he showed up.” A few tears had managed to escape and she wiped them away harshly, frustrated that it had been over a decade and it still twisted her gut every time.

“I hadn’t seen Eris since I had managed to stop going to the country club, since then, he had grown several more inches, his lanky frame now bulky with bands of muscle. Of course every girl at that party made the decision to throw themselves in his path, but he stayed my shadow the whole night, pressing me to talk to him and catch up.

“I texted Rhys as soon as I could to come pick me up, there was no way I could drive that night. I guess I turned away from my drink for a moment because the next thing I knew my vision was getting foggy and it was getting harder and harder to stand up. Eris lead me to an upstairs bedroom, claiming to everyone that the ‘little missy’ couldn’t handle her alcohol and he was going to help me lie down. What a fucking lie that was but everyone was too wrapped around his finger to notice.

“I don’t remember much about what happened next, but Rhys told me that when he burst into the room, my pants and underwear were off, and Eris was on top of me. God, I thought he wasn’t going to walk out alive but Rhys wanted to get me out of there as fast as possible. He begged me to go to the police, but I knew it was impossible. Underage drinking combined with a rich white boy? Who would’ve believed me?”

Feyre’s eyes snapped cold blue at that. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be raised in a privileged household that wouldn’t back up their own daughter.

Mor’s eyes came back into focus. “That was the last time I saw him since last night. I swear if I had shown up and you were the one going into the ambulance instead of him, I don’t think anyone could have stopped me from killing him.”

Mor lifter her eyes from where she had fixed them on a distant point to meet Feyre’s, “I’m so sorry that he hurt you. Maybe if I had said something all those years ago, you would be safe.”

“Don’t you dare,” the words came out as a whisper. “Don’t you dare blame the actions of that shitbag on you. I’m so, so terribly sorry that you went through that Mor, and thank you for trusting me with it. If you ever want, or need, to talk about it or anything else, you know I’m here.” She finished her proclamation with a hard squeeze, trying to convey even more love in the gesture.

“I know Feyre, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

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