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“So what do you think?”
Rhys inhaled his toffee so fast it was a wonder he didn’t choke on it. But to be fair, he didn’t expect Feyre to be dressed quite like that.
She did a little twirl, her brown jacket stopping few inches short of her belt which accentuated her waist and drew his attention to her spandex covered legs that seemed to go on and on and on.
Green and yellow had never looked so good together.
“Feyre, you look delectable. Are you sure I can’t interest you in a night spent at home instead?”
Feyre rolled her eyes though her smile betrayed her amusement.
“And be bored to death?”
He smirked and leaned against her bedroom’s door, moving his body with a casual grace Feyre used to be jealous of, but was now quite appreciative of. Rhys’ smirk grew as if he could read her thoughts (for all she knew, he actually could do that).
“I assure you, ma chérie, you’ll be anything but bored.” The sensual way the french endearment rolled off his tongue had her skin prickling with goosebumps and the spandex she was wearing suddenly felt too constructing.
She brushed off imaginary lint off her get-up and she pretended that Rhys’ chuckle was not because of her abysmal attempt to ignore his advances. It was not that they were unwanted – on the contrary, they were very much wanted – but Mor was expecting them in less than half an hour and they didn’t have time for the activities her boyfriend had in mind.
“Ready to go then?”
He inclined his head in agreement and moved away from the door, his cloak whooshing softly behind him.
“After you.” He offered his arm and she hooked her elbow around his, her boots giving her the needed height boost to peck him on the lips without having to go onto her tiptoes.
“I have to admit,” he said once they made it out of the apartment she shared with her sisters, “you make a convincing Rogue.”
Feyre pushed the recently acquired white streak of hair behind her ear and smiled at him, leaning further into his warmth and shamelessly flashing him a peek down her cleavage, the zipper in the front nothing but a tease.
“Your Gambit is pretty decent too.”
“Oh?” Rhys dipped his free hand into his cloak’s pocket and drew out a pack of cards, shuffling them one-handedly with a dramatic flourish of his fingers. (And oh, the things those fingers could do.) “Only decent?” He ended with a flick of his wrist and suddenly Feyre was looking at the Queen of Hearts.
More than impressed but not yet ready to admit defeat, Feyre patted him on the chest, her hand lingering a bit longer than necessary, her nails tapping playfully onto his sternum. His eyes – that violet shade she loved so much – darkened and Feyre felt a thrill go down her spine when his hand trapped hers against his chest.
“Easy now, ma chérie, unless you want to see just what other magic tricks I can do for you.”
She laughed, almost breathless from excitement, and her pulse sped up when his other hand lingered on her backside, pushing her closer to his body.
“I believe you promised to behave.”
He tracked the way she bit her lower lip, aware of her attempted seduction despite the innocent look she was going for. She was far from innocent, they both knew that, but that was the fun of it – her giving him a proper chase until they were both too greedy for each other to care where their clothes went flying.
“I promised to go with you to Mor’s party. I didn’t say anything about behaving.”
“Well,” Feyre tilted her head to the side, exposing the column of her throat on purpose; she knew what that did to Rhys. “Can I interest you in a little wager then?”
Rhysand felt his arousal spike at her deceptively bashful tone and his hands settled on her waist, squeezing gently for a moment.
“I suppose I can be persuaded. Let’s hear it then.”
She hummed and moved away from him, taking his hand in hers and leading him the final few steps to Mor’s building. She was silent as they climbed the steps but he didn’t seem to mind; after all, he had a rather nice view of her spandex covered ass.
“Enjoying yourself back there, Gambit?”
“You can’t fault me for appreciating art when I see it,” he said cheekily and Feyre shook her head at his antics.
Another floor up and they could already hear the music, the deep bass reverberating through the walls around them.
His hand sneaked around her waist and she didn’t fight him when he pulled her close to him yet again. His casual touches were something she craved with insatiable hunger and he was all too happy to deliver, his affection given freely and without expecting anything in return.
The door to Mor’s floor was open and people were already packed inside the hallway, mingling from Mor’s apartment to Az and Cassian’s and back again. Feyre caught a glimpse of Amren before Rhys pulled her to a stop.
“You said something about a wager if I recall correctly, and you know how much I love winning those.”
It was her turn to smirk, her dark red lips stretching into a wicked smile, and she tangled her fingers into his hair, tugging his face towards hers until she could whisper in his ear, “If you behave, I’ll show you what I’m wearing underneath my costume. Or, should I say, what I’m not wearing.”
And with that, Feyre pushed away from his chest, savoring the way his pupils had expanded, his clenched fists and the way his eyes narrowed a second later. There was a warning in his gaze not to toe the line lest she got more than she could handle, but Feyre lived for pushing all his buttons and this little game between them was just what they both needed after the bad news Rhys had gotten earlier in the day.
Feeling bold and wanted, she threw him a wink over her shoulder and disappeared among the crowd, looking for Mor and her sisters.
Hours later, when she was ready to call the night to an end, she couldn’t find him.
“Hey, Az, have you seen Rhys somewhere? He went to get me water some time ago and he’s yet to come back.”
Azriel spared her a glance from where he was observing Mor with an open expression of adoration, and shook his head no.
“Try the other kitchen, it’s on the other end of the hallway.”
Saying her thanks, Feyre put down her empty beer cup and put her jacket on – it had been way too hot inside for her to keep walking around in it.
Half-way down the hallway, a hand shot out of the dark and dragged her into what she suspected was a supply closet. She almost screamed but she knew the warm hands that sneaked under her jacket and backed her against the least cluttered wall in the closet.
Heart still racing, Feyre swatted Rhys on the shoulder and let him hold her weight as her legs regrouped from the scare. “God, you’re incorrigible.”
“My name is Rhysand but I promise to respond to God too if that’s your thing.”
She poked him in the ribs as a reprimand but she was pretty sure her finger hurt more than his stupid (perfect, lean, strong) muscles. She sighed when he nuzzled her neck, his lips mouthing wet kisses along her jaw line until he reached her lips. Then, he teasingly tugged at her lower lip with his teeth, his tongue tracing the contours of her mouth but not slipping inside despite her obvious desire. He kissed her only after her nails dug into his shoulders and she growled his name in frustration.
Their kiss spread liquid heat throughout her body, the points where they were touching a bright red spot in her mind. Kissing him was exhilarating, like taking a breath for the first time after you’ve went too long without it, tiny tremors making your whole body shake with relief.
Feyre couldn’t imagine ever getting tired of this – his mouth moving against hers, his body a solid wall of warmth twisted around hers until there was no air between them, nothing but the wave of want that made them blind for everything else aside from each other.
“Rhys…” His name ended with a moan as Rhys broke their kiss and sucked the soft part of her ear into his mouth, his teeth grazing it with just the right amount of pressure.
Pleased with the breathless state he had brought her to, Rhys stole another kiss from her lips and brushed his nose against hers.
“You said you’ll show me what’s under your costume if I behaved, and I behaved oh so well the whole night, chérie. I’ve come to collect.”
She couldn’t resist grinding her hips against the leg he had between hers, groaning at the sparks of pleasure the movement elicited inside her.
“I thought you’d collect that back home.”
His laugh was low and dark, and it made the shadows around them feel like a physical caress on her exposed skin.
Rhys tapped at her zipper almost thoughtfully but his intentions were crystal clear. “I’ve watched you all night parade around in this skin-tight costume, keeping my hands and mouth away from places we both know you enjoy, and letting you stay as long as you want. Don’t you think I deserve a small reward for my impeccable self-control?”
He tugged her closer until she could feel his hard on and Feyre hissed, her reservations about why they shouldn’t do this stripped away like water.
“Maybe just a small one.”
She knew he was grinning triumphantly even if she couldn’t quite see him in the dark, but she didn’t complain because his fingers pulled down the zipper of her costume and she nearly vibrated out of her skin when the rough pads of his fingers brushed over her naked breasts.
“Oh, you minx.”
His breath was hot against the skin of her neck, his hands not touching her at all as he lowered the zipper all the way down to her abdomen. It was maddening and she was itching for attention, but he made her wait as he pulled her X-men uniform down her shoulders, bunching her spandex uniform with her jacket, making it impossible for her to move her arms.
When Feyre tried to push the mess of clothes further down, Rhys tusked reprovingly and let his teeth close around her peaked nipple, nibbling just enough to make her gasp from the pleasure-pain of it.
“You ought to get a spanking for not wearing any underwear.”
Feyre arched her back to the best of her abilities, eager to feel more of his mouth on her breasts.
“Have you seen my costume? Underwear lines are a no-go.”
Rhys froze under her touch assimilating what she had just said, and then her belt felt victim to his deft fingers before his hand sneaked down her costume, to the junction between her legs where she was already hot and wet for him.
“Feyre.” His chest rumbled with the sounds of her name and he pressed his mouth against hers, swallowing her moans as his fingers traced her clit.
She was so slick with her desire that he had no trouble at all to slip a finger inside her, grinding his palm against her clit and making her shake at the dual sensation. Feyre could only whimper and hold on to him with her legs as he used his other hand to push her higher against the wall, supporting all her weight with his whole body.
Rhys’ attention turned back to her heaving breasts, kissing the valley between them before circling his tongue around her left nipple, sucking and nibbling until it was red from his abuse. Then, he did the same to her right one, all the while working his fingers inside her.
“Rhys- Rhys, please.” Feyre wasn’t above begging when she was so close to her peak – he was doing all the things she liked, building her orgasm up like only he could, but refusing to let her reach it quite yet.
“No, you’re a tease,” he mumbled against her chest, kissing his way back up to her mouth, muffling the little ohs and ahs, the pleases and the dear gods.
Feyre squirmed against him, trying to find more friction, but the bastard pulled back and she whimpered.
“Rhys…” Her arms were starting to tremble behind her back, her shoulders complaining about their position, but all she could think about was the heat building behind her navel. “Mon chéri, please.”
She didn’t know if it was her use of french or if he decided that he had teased her enough, but he kissed her long and dirty, and his thumb played with her clit until she came, her cry lost into his mouth.
He gentled his touch while she trembled with the aftershocks, holding her upright until she could stand on her own legs. Oversensitive, she moaned brokenly when he removed his fingers, her arousal spiking once again when he made a show of licking his fingers clean.
She was pliant in his arms and her head dropped to rest onto his shoulder, letting him pull her costume back together all by himself. She felt safe and sleepy, and when he kissed her on the neck, she relaxed fully for the first time that day.
“As much as I hate to say this, we better get moving before Cassian decides to burst through the door.”
Feyre hummed and lifted her head, pecking him on the lips.
“What about you?” She rolled her hips against his and nudged his still hard cock.
“I still have a wager to collect on and I’ll need a proper bed for that, preferably at home.”
“Got big plans, huh?”
“Oh, the biggest.”
She snickered and Rhys smoothed her unruly hair down, tenderly working free the knots his fingers snagged on.
“I love you.”
“I love you too, darling. Now get your ass out the door before I decide to really spank it.”
“You promise?”
Feyre opened the door and the light outside blinded her for a moment. As she blinked the bright spots away from her eyes, she noticed the hungry look Rhys was giving her.
“You might want to walk faster if you’re partial to this costume.”
She grinned, all teeth and challenge, and took off in a run, laughing as Rhys gave chase.
She wasn’t Rogue and Rhys was no Gambit, but they were Feyre and Rhys, Rhys and Feyre, and for them that worked perfectly.