Chapter Text
Derowen sat on the edge of Rhys' bed, bare feet resting comfortably flat on the plush carpet, trying not to eavesdrop on his conversation. He had to take a call from the detective agency as they'd returned to the house and was standing on the other side of the closed bedroom door to finish it. They took the opportunity to look around his personal space for the first time ever.
Rhys was one of the lucky few in the estate who had an entire bedroom to himself. It was barely smaller than the room Derowen shared with three other sidhe. The king sized bed took up less than half the room, made up neatly with a tasteful arrangement of gold, champagne, and cream colored pillows at the headboard. Derowen ran their hand along the matching fabric of the bed spread. It was rougher than it looked, though obviously expensive. It was clear that Rhys didn't have anything to do with the decor. Like most of the estate, it had Maeve Reed, Golden Goddess of Hollywood written all over it.
The wood furniture matched the bedframe - a chest of drawers, an armoire, a few tables. One wall held a set of closed doors that probably led to a closet, and another door that led to a bathroom. Derowen thought the bathroom was shared with another bedroom on the other side but didn't move to investigate. They wanted to be all patience and submission when Rhys walked in, and poking around in his bathroom didn't seem like a great way to accomplish that. They were hoping to pick up where they left off less than an hour ago.
The art on the walls complemented the bedclothes and the carefully matched heavy drapes that framed a large window, which took up most of the far wall. The view was hidden behind layers of sheer fabric and, behind that, a black-out curtain. The place reminded Derowen of an expensive hotel room. There was even a cream colored wingback chair in one corner, with a chic modern reading lamp arching gracefully over the table beside it. The lamp matched the other lamps in the room, and a coat rack near the door.
There were several small dog beds scattered along the walls and tucked under tables - one of the signs of life messily strewn about, like a thin layer of chaos over all the elegant furnishings. A loose pile of pocket detritus on the table next to the door. A blue satin robe hanging from a hook near the bed. Clothes tossed across the reading chair and hung haphazardly on the coat rack. A few towels piled on the ground. Derowen was surprised to realize that Rhys was a little messy. They wondered if he'd made his bed today with their date in mind, because it didn't seem like he would bother otherwise. The thought gave them a fluttering feeling in their stomach.
As if on cue, Rhys swept into the room and shut the door behind him, emptying his pockets onto the nearby table. "My apologies for the wait," he said, shedding layers of clothing. "Jeremy had an interesting consultation today. He wants me on the case so we had to hash out the scheduling details."
"That's good news, isn't it?" Derowen asked.
Rhys walked towards them, his long cream colored curls swooped to one side of his pale, handsome face. He looked positively fetching. Even barefoot, in his loosened tie and saliva stained slacks, he was every inch the elegant sidhe warrior.
"Wonderful news! I've been bored out of my mind." He stopped in front of them, close enough to touch. He reached as if to remove his belt and the movement drew Derowen's autumn eyes down. Their first thought was, "Wow, that belt really doesn't match." Their second thought was delightfully visceral, less to do with fashion and more to do with centuries of experiences involving leather pulled tight against their skin.
The belt was from the modern era, though certainly not from this decade. It was an inch and a half wide, unadorned full grain black leather worn soft from years of wear and oiling, with a simple frame style metal buckle. It was a functional belt, not made for three piece suits. Had he chosen it tonight, as he'd made his bed, with their date in mind? They desperately hoped so.
Rhys studied them closely. All he'd done was touch his leather belt. In the span of a few seconds Derowen had gone from somewhat distracted, but trying to keep themself under control, to a picture of open and unadulterated lust, to forcing themself to look back up to his face and make shaky eye contact. He remained carefully impassive but their reaction was everything. He filed it away for now.
He reached his other hand to lay feather light touches on their cheeks with his fingertips. He enjoyed looking down at their upturned face. He hoped he would have many opportunities to do so in the future.
They swallowed and said, "What's the job?"
He held their chin in his hand, his thumb gently pulling on their bottom lip. "I don't want to talk about that right now." His voice was low and husky. Derowen let him pull their mouth open, eyes flicking to the hand still on his belt. He slowly pushed his thumb into their mouth where they caught it in their teeth, delicately licking and sucking. He found his vision narrowing to their warm lips around his thumb. He pulled out of their mouth, closed his eye, and took three deep breaths.
It was right there under the surface of his trembling control, so very close. The flames of his need fanned to life, burning white hot to ignite the moonlight of his skin. He wanted to set it free, let it consume him, consume them both. Was Derowen whole enough to burn with him? He had to be sure. It was so close to breaking the surface. His eye opened to find Derowen staring again at his hand on his belt.
He gently tilted their gaze up to his. He didn't try to hide the passion in his eye, the firm intensity in his deep voice. "I want you to obey my every directive. I want to control your body, restrain you, have my way with you. I want you helpless like putty in my hands, a toy for my pleasure. I want to TAKE you, Derowen. Forcefully. Do you understand?"
Derowen shivered, nodding up at him, their eyes beginning to glow like a candle behind stained glass.
"And is that what you want?" His voice came gentler now, softer.
"Yes," they whispered.
"Say the word and I will stop. If you can't speak, snap your fingers. I will stop." His face held such a sincere gentility, and an edge of worry.
Derowen's magic flared beneath their skin, but it wasn't hunger or sex now glowing up from their narrowed eyes. Their expression was suddenly hard, cold. It was not a look he'd ever seen on their face. Anger?
"I know how the game is played, Crom Cruach," they snapped. Everyone in their little court knew who he had once been - who he was again, in a sense - but Derowen had never used that name for him until now. It was startling to hear it so sharp from their lips. "I am not some mortal to be tiptoed around. I may not be a royal guard, or freshly returned to godhead, but I am full blooded Unseelie sidhe. A fact that you seem to forget. You don't need to treat me like I'm made of glass. I won't break."
Rhys sat beside them on the bed and took both their hands in his. His face was a picture of earnest concern, stoking Derowen's outrage even more. They wondered if all that new power had gone to his head.
"Derowen, please listen. I have seen you bloody and shining on the battlefield, I know you can hold your own. I have stood guard while you bled, stoic, under Ezekiel's tender care. I know you can survive things far more terrible than I would ever want to do to you.
"We have spies. I've heard the horror stories. I've seen the haunted eyes of new refugees week after week. Their bodies are as perfect and strong as yours is right now. You can't see how damaged and fragile they are by looking at them. Do you understand?
"I need you to know that I want you however you are right now. It's no fun unless you're enjoying it. If we don't play this game I will still be happy to have you in my arms, and if we do you can tell me to stop for any reason, not just physical discomfort. I won't ask you to explain. It's far more important that you are well than I get what I want this night."
Derowen softened, the indignation of moments before draining from their body. They had heard the stories, too, of course. His concern had made them feel belittled, but Rhys was right to be careful. Merry's new court was a place of healing. Any lingering fear they may have felt in the face of his returned power and new solemn intensity evaporated instantly. They spoke gently, now petting his hands in theirs.
"I left before the Queen had an opportunity to point her grief in my direction, thankfully, but I do know it to be a fearsome thing. From what I understand it's not much better for the Seelie now, either. But I didn't come here just to escape the queen's mercy. I came to L.A. because I decided that I'd rather face exile, and fading, than to risk never standing in the summerlands again. My home is Faerie. I will go where the Goddess and Consort are. Faerie is here, They are here, so I am here.
"Besides, court was no fun after you left," Derowen added with a smile. Rhys laughed softly at that, squeezing their hands.
"I know that I'm safe with you, Rhys. If I had any doubts before this moment, you've chased them all away."
Derowen looked into Rhys' eye, touched by the relief plain on his face. They continued, "And you need to know now that you're safe with me too. I will not fail to let you know if I'm not having a good time, for any reason. You don't have to hold back... Please, don't hold back."
The look in Derowen's eyes as they finished, their voice gone breathy and softly pleading, the reassurance they'd just shared between them, the heat of their magic rising under their skin… He released his control on that blazing desire and need within him. He would let it have its way with them both.
He kissed them gently at first, a tender gesture for what had been a tender moment. The kiss quickly grew to something deeper, and almost desperate. When he pulled back he opened his eye to the light of both sun and moon glowing brilliantly between them, mingling, and a gentle wind moving their hair around their faces. Derowen's eyes opened to throw speckled light into all that glow, and he could see the blue of his own eye reflected like neon in his lashes. He stood up to gaze down at them, pulling his tie from his shirt, and said one word.
"Strip."
Derowen stood to unbutton, unzip, and unfasten everything they wore and let it all fall to the floor at their feet. Rhys stood at ease and watched impassively, making no move to further undress himself. When Derowen was naked before him, a golden vision, he took a long moment to take in the sight of them. It sped his heart in his chest.
"Sit on the edge of the bed." They complied immediately, shivering at the note of command in his low voice.
Rhys pulled the wingback chair from its corner, settling himself in it. "Spread your legs and put your feet on the arms of the chair." The rough fabric of the bedspread scratched against their skin as they positioned themself, Rhys pulling the chair closer. Once settled, he pushed them to lie back against the mattress. They lay spread before him, the dark hair that curled between their legs glistening in the sunlight of their magic like morning dew on grass.
He leaned into them, breathing them in, allowing his breath to play over their most delicate parts. His frenzied desire was momentarily superceded by his propensity to savor such moments. He wanted to clearly remember this. Their scent was a mycelium-rich forest floor, a place where death and decay dance with life and rebirth, earthy and damp. His magic grew brighter, thrumming steadily through his body, and a thought floated unbidden through his mind. "Death and decay walk hand in hand, bringing life to barren land." Was that why their magic called to his?
Before the thought could register Derowen began to squirm and whimper under his breath, rolling their small nipples in their fingers, gazing down at him over the length of their body. He drew them closer by the hips and held them so they couldn't squirm. He rolled his shining blue eye up to meet theirs as he bent down to taste them. They were as wet as they looked and tasted of that morning dew, clean and earthy, like he was licking it from fresh spring shoots.
Rhys drew his tongue in slow circles around that most sensitive of spots, their taste and scent nearly overwhelming his senses. Their hips struggled to move against his grip, their breath coming in gasps and quiet moans. They threw their head back, moans growing louder as his rhythm increased. His lips formed a soft vacuum around that spot and he suckled and licked until he brought them, back arched, moaning loudly and shining like the high summer sun.
He didn't give them a chance to recover. He stood swiftly and toppled the chair, kicking it to roll across the floor. "Sit up," he commanded as he unbuckled his belt. Derowen obeyed.
He looped the strap through the buckle. "Hands together in front of you." Within moments their wrists were tightly bound together, and they were shoved roughly back onto the mattress.
He pulled the strap of leather firmly down the front of their body and anchored it between his hand and their pubic bone, pressing them into the mattress. The eyes that looked up at him were already unfocused and heavy lidded, luminous motion in the leaves of their irises. The leather immobilized their arms against the front of their body, relaxing them into the proverbial putty in his hands. He slid two fingers into them, still pinning them to the bed, the leather pressed firmly into their flesh.
They gasped and he could feel their hips struggling beneath him, their arms tugging at the restraint, cinching it tighter. They were still wet and ready and he pressed his fingertips against the sensitive shallow spot inside, eliciting a loud gasp as he started to slide his fingers in and out. He increased the rhythm quickly, passing over and over that shallow spot, bringing another orgasm within seconds. Their feet had found purchase on the bed frame and they struggled as if to meet his intense rhythm, or maybe escape it, but they were pinned and at his mercy. They cried his name as they came, tightening around his fingers relentlessly drawing out the moment of release so it grew into wave upon wave of pleasure laced with an edge of pain.
Again, Rhys did not give them time to recover. They were still twitching and nearly limp when he slid his fingers out of them and pulled them upright by the belt around their wrists. He knelt, quickly checking their hands and loosening the strap a bit so it was still firm around them but not too tight. He stood to strip off the rest of his clothes, commanding, "On your knees on the edge of the bed."
Derowen was dazed and the words didn't quite make sense. Rhys was now nude and shining before them, all sculpted muscles and brilliant moonlight, and perfect thick hardness. It didn't help. He knelt in front of them and looked into their eyes. "Did you hear me?"
"Yes," they responded, voice a little shaky and hoarse.
"Do you want to stop?" The blue rings of his iris still swirled and burned, he still glowed as if the full moon had risen under his skin.
Derowen swallowed and cleared their throat. "No." They said it firmly and clearly, their eyes more focused now and still blazing bright.
"Good. Get on your hands and knees on the edge of the bed. Face the headboard. Your calves and feet will hang in the air behind you. Do you understand?" They did.
Rhys watched as Derowen struggled to position themself as he'd instructed, wrists still bound so that their hands couldn't grab for purchase. The fact that it was challenging in their current state made their enthusiastic obedience all the more endearing, and stoked his lust. Forcing them to focus and think through the fog of subspace, seemingly unable to tear their eyes away from his body as he undressed, had given him such a thrill of dark pleasure. His need burned through him like a wildfire.
It was when they had settled on their hands and knees that he took control of their body. He pulled them to the very edge of the bed and spread their knees across the rough fabric, lowering them much closer to the mattress. He reached between their legs to grab the strap of leather that hung from their bound wrists and pulled. They fell forward onto the mattress, still spread on their knees with their ass in the air. He pulled back on their hips, allowing their upper body to rest more comfortably, straightening their neck. Their face, chest, knees, and arms were pressed into the course bedspread but they were too far gone to be bothered by it.
He entered them in one smooth motion until his balls pressed tight against their body, pulling their hips back so he could get every last inch inside them. He stretched them so deliciously wide, just a little painfully, and they moaned into the bed. He began to move at a tentative pace, every stroke entering to his base, while making minute adjustments to the angle of their hips. On one deep plunge he hit his target. The tip of his cock pressed firmly against that deepest of sensitive spots inside them, the aching spot at their very limit. They cried out, their hips bucking, legs trembling.
He was right where he wanted to be. He held them perfectly in place. No matter how much their body struggled, their hips could not hope to move against his grip. He fucked them then, deep, hard and fast, pounding against that ache inside them. All they could do was take it, and ride the steadily building pressure, and cry out helplessly.
He took his pleasure from their body, filling them up, stretching them wide. He could feel their muscles fluttering around him, sucking on his cock as he pulled back, giving with each slippery stroke in. It wasn't long before Derowen's pleasure peaked and their cries and moans grew into one long, guttural wail muffled by the mattress. Their orgasm grew and grew. He had to squint against all their golden brilliance.
Their body squeezing around him as he fought to keep sliding home into that sweet, tight space pushed him over the edge. They screamed together, deep, rumbling, animalistic. The orgasm tore through his body and he thrust as deep as he could, bottoming out. Derowen's muscles squeezed along his length, creating a sensation that made him feel like their body would suck the seed from him. His balls pulled tight to his body and he had his release, finally, against the deepest part of them.
He stayed inside them for some time, enjoying the feeling of Derowen twitching around him, catching his breath and waiting for the light spots in his vision to fade. When he finally pulled away he unbound their wrists and gently scooped them up in his arms. He tucked them into the soft comfort of the satin sheets and held them to him, stroking their arms and hair, laying gentle kisses on their face.
"Very good," he whispered against their lips. The golden light of their body hadn't even cooled completely before they drifted peacefully to sleep in his arms.