Chapter Text
Feyre had a habit of being late. She always blamed it on her artistic nature - her go with the flow attitude that prevented her from adhering to the conventional laws of time.
Every homework assignment from kindergarten through college was turned in at a minimum one day past its due. Her student worker supervisors in undergrad made necessary adjustments to their schedules to allow for “Feyre-time.” They knew they could count on her to be there - wherever there was that day.
Same with her current employer, Prythian Advertising. She ascended to division lead for visual marketing and design at the young age of 25 earlier this year - a feat she was very proud of. Her team knew they could count on her, too. They just knew to bake in extra time (lie about deadlines) to accommodate her.
Feyre’s sisters knew that she had a tendency to run late as well. They were more accustomed to it, having grown up with her and withstood the grueling extra time she took to get dressed in the morning. Even knowing that eventually she would walk out in some mismatched monstrosity.
Yes, the people in Feyre’s life knew to expect her to be a little late from time to time, and tonight was no exception.
She got the text yesterday from her oldest sister Nesta that simply said:
N: Won my case bitch, drinks at Rita’s tomorrow at 7:00.
Even with attempting to follow Cosmo’s rules of dressing to transition from day to night seamlessly, Feyre still fussed over what to wear.
Tonight was also important to her as it marked the conclusion of her 4 month vigil after the end of her relationship with Tamlin Thorne, the finance dude-bro from accounting she spent the last two years with.
The end of that relationship ushered in a new era of stability and closeness with her sisters, since they were the ones to be there to pick-up the pieces. For all the general assholery Tamlin had subjected her to over the course of their time together, she was at least grateful it had brought them together.
She didn’t feel completely heartbroken towards the end. Mostly ready to move the fuck on, but she waited until she felt ready to be out and be approached.
And being approached was certainly the goal of tonight’s outfit. Feyre played to her strengths, opting for an outfit that highlighted her blue-grey eyes and the briefest hints of a summer tan she was getting.
For the evening festivities, she had donned a slinky midnight-blue dress that came to her midthigh and featured a sultry low back and halter neck cut. There were silver sparkles all over the dress that made it look like the night sky - Feyre’s favorite thing to paint. To compliment, she selected a safe pair of silvery heels - not too tall in order to avoid breaking an ankle should they decide to dance - but tall enough to accentuate her ass.
She threw her hair up in a messy bun with just the right amount of sandy blonde waves framing her face. Her make-up was also simple - a cat eye, highlighter and her favorite shade of red lipstick. No jewelry - that would have been too many additional components as the dress and makeup should be enough to entice someone.
She did a few twirls in the mirror, checked the time - 7:05 - and rushed out the door to call for a Lyft.
***
“Wait, he seriously started crying on the stand?!” Feyre giggled
“Yes, I shit you not - the minute I pulled out his texts he folded. Said he would agree to whatever she wanted. It was amazing. ” Nesta finished her tale of the case she had won - sleazy dad sleeping with the nanny while the mom was post-partum from their third child.
“It’s the kind of stuff that makes you want to not have kids, you know? I mean, who can you really trust?”
Feyre and Elain nodded, not really sure what to say to that. Their own parents had been a hot mess. No cheating - but emotional absence and damn near neglect. Their mom passed when Feyre was in middle school and their dad… Well he had already been a shell of himself. He passed after Feyre started college - his last years marked by what they assume was a cognitive decline.
“So, Feyre, you said your new boss starts soon?” Nesta asked, effectively shaking Feyre out of her thoughts.
“Yeah! I haven’t heard much about him - senior leadership conducted the search. I’ll report to him but I don’t think we'll be working that closely. Unless he wants to change things up, which I really hope he doesn’t.”
Nesta hummed in thought and said at last, “I just hope he’s not a pain in the ass. Would be a welcome break after the year you’ve had.”
“You can say that again…” Feyre stared at her drink for a moment before shaking herself. Tonight was the night she wanted to finally move on. Not dwell on the past. Quickly changing the subject, she turned to Elain. “What’s new with you? How’s Lucien?”
Elain and Lucien had started dating about eight months into Feyre and Tamlin’s relationship, and by all accounts, it seemed to be much more stable. Elain seemed at ease around him and away from him, which was a welcome reality after her short-lived relationship with Graysen Nolan who was at best incredibly boring, and at worst, a dick.
Elain perked up at the mention of Lucien and smiled as she responded, “He’s great! It sounds like his older brother’s takeover of Autumn Publishing has been going well. We’re planning a trip to the lake in a few weeks - you guys should come! I promise it’ll be fun!”
Nesta and Feyre both agreed that they could use a lake trip in the near future.
The three settled back into their rhythm, talking about other facets of work and plans for the summer. Feyre’s goal of staying out all night with her sisters was squashed, though, when both decided that 10:00 PM was just late enough to get home and turn in for the night.
“Aw, come on you guys, you’re gonna leave me here alone? It’s my first night out single and you two are supposed to be my wing-women.” Feyre knew pouting was way below her, but after a couple gin and tonics, it just came naturally.
“Sorry Fey, Lucien has been waiting all week to spend time with me and I kinda want more than just tomorrow if we can make it happen. Rain check on dancing though?” Elain offered.
Nesta downed her bourbon and simply said, “My cat is hungry. I’ll see you guys later.”
Feyre rolled her eyes as her sisters departed. Deciding that sitting at a booth was too much for one, she made her way to the bar to grab another drink before heading to the dance floor.
She was just getting ready to order a drink when she felt the weight of a body behind her and the sultry voice of a man croon, “There you are, I’ve been looking for you.”
Feyre didn’t know who the hell could be trying a corny line like that on her, so she turned around to say as much, but found herself at a loss for words.
Standing behind her was the most beautiful man Feyre had ever seen.
She guessed he was in his mid-40s, judging by the salt and pepper hair scattered through his tousled raven curls. His face was angular, complete with plush lips that she swore she wasn’t staring at. She couldn’t have been, because she was struck by his eyes. His eyes, which were the most intense shade of blue she had ever seen. Hers looked grey on most days, but his looked as if they were an indigo-violet.
His complexion was much darker than hers. She was almost certain it wasn’t due to the increasing summer sun, guessing he may have hailed from Illyria, the region just north of Velaris where she lived.
He was wearing all black - tailored snugly to his athletic body. She guessed he was still athletic - in what manner, it was hard to say. He was certainly sculpted muscle, all six feet plus the gods know how many inches of him.
She realized she still hadn’t responded to his cheesy pick-up line, and she stammered something along the lines of, “I’msorryI’mnotsurewhoyou’relookingforbutitcan’tbeme.”
He chuckled at this and said, “Well, I just mean I’ve been looking for you - the woman of my dreams.”
At this, Feyre finally got her bearings enough to huff out a laugh and say, “Okay, that’s cheesy as hell.” She paused, considering how far he would entertain her, and said at last, “Does the woman of your dreams have an empty drink in front of her?”
Okay, not much better than his but she was rusty. It was over two years since she had to use her skills.
He positively beamed as he ordered her a fresh gin and tonic and an old fashioned for himself.
“So, I’m guessing this seat isn’t taken, darling?”
Her stomach swooped at the use of the name and the familiar affection he showered upon her. She shook her head and gestured to the seat, encouraging him to take it.
“I’m Rhysand, but you can call me Rhys.”
She took the hand he reached out and said, “Feyre.”
“Well, Feyre-” His eyes sparkled as he looked her up and down. Her skin felt like it was on fire. “It seems my night just got a whole lot more interesting.”
***
A few drinks later, Feyre and Rhys were climbing into a Lyft, Rhys trying (and failing) to appropriately grope Feyre, if there was such a way to do so.
The ride to her apartment was a tense dance between the two of them as they tried to keep their hands above the belt, so to speak.
By the time they slammed into Feyre’s apartment, all attempts at propriety were gone before the door had even shut. His hands on her ass, her hands trying to rip apart his shirt to get it off. A mixture of lips and tongues and teeth, as if both were trying to get under the skin of the other.
Once safely inside, Rhys pinned Feyre to the wall, deepening the kiss between the two of them. She moaned as she felt his tongue sweep inside her mouth once more. His hands trailed from her ass to the hem of her dress at her thighs. Hoisting the dress up, up, and up around her waist as he sank to his knees. Trailing kisses from her lips, down her neck, collarbone, over her breasts and just below her navel. He slowed his descent, lips still on her skin, looking up into her eyes in a silent question.
She whimpered in anticipation, nodding her approval. Feeling his smirk against her skin, he slowly pulled her panties down her legs. Stopping occasionally to nip and kiss the inside of her thighs, her calves, the back of her knee. After finally helping her step out of them, he pocketed her panties and hoisted one of her legs over his shoulder. Giving him complete and total access to her dripping core.
He kissed languidly up one thigh, then over to the other. He teased her entrance with just one finger, groaning, “ Fuck , you’re so wet - is all of this just for me?” She groaned at the tease he offered her, trying to angle her hips just right to increase the pressure she wanted - no, needed.
He chuckled, the air going straight to her center and said, “Patience, sweet girl, patience.”
The combination of the pet name and the air straight to her clit had her bucking her hips at him and he finally relented, drawing one long strip with his tongue up her center, swirling slow circles around her clit. The initial contact had her keening, but he gave no reprieve. He set a steady rhythm, drawing patterns in between her heat and up to her clit, before reinserting the tip of his finger into her entrance.
The delay had her arching her back right into his finger and he finally gave in, groaning as he felt her clinch around him.
“Feyre, you taste fucking incredible ,” he muttered as he continued with a combination of his tongue and finger.
He added another finger and Feyre panted at the stretch she was beginning to feel. He set a rapid pace and the more he continued, the greater the pressure she felt coiling low in her belly. “Rhys, I’m gonna come, I wanna come-” and like commanding an army, he sent her over the edge of her climax, his fingers and tongue still fucking her through it.
She nearly dragged him up from where he was kneeling before her, managed to choke out the word “bedroom,” before he picked her up and carried her in the direction she indicated.
She was thanking the gods she had cleaned earlier - her efforts now finally paying off. He lowered her to the bed, her fingers flying to his belt to begin getting him undressed only pausing when he pulled her dress over her head.
In a matter of seconds, both were completely undressed.
“Fucking gorgeous,” he muttered as his eyes hungrily roved over her now naked body.
Feyre was salivating as she took in what seemed like miles of muscles accented with swirls of black ink, beginning at his forearms and snaking up over his pecs. Her pupils blew once she made it below his hips and took in his considerable length. I don’t think he’s gonna fit, she thought to herself.
Seeing her intrigue and slight trepidation, Rhys only chuckled slightly and reassured her, “Don’t worry darling, I know you can take it.”
His reassurance gave her the confidence she needed, so she crawled across the bed to the end to take him in her hands and begin a torturous stroking rhythm that had him closing his eyes and panting. She leaned forward to kiss him gently, which he graciously returned.
Once neither of them could take it anymore, his hands seized her waist and guided her down to the bed behind her. He hovered over her, nudging at her entrance before looking up at her in question. She merely responded, “I’m on the pill, it’s fine.”
Ever the smart ass, he laughed, “So my sweet little darling Feyre wants to be filled up, hm?”
She felt herself grow wetter at the comment, cheeks blushing but she nodded all the same. She didn’t have time to unpack in that moment because yes, she wanted every inch he would give her and then some.
He eased himself in, Feyre moaning as she began to feel the air being punched out of her at the intrusion. He inched his way further and further, his eyes never leaving hers, until he was fully seated within her. She adjusted momentarily, amazed at how it felt to have all of him inside of her.
“You feel… Incredible, darling. So wet and tight for me.” He choked out.
Feyre was breathless and felt her cheeks heat at the compliment while also feeling more pressure building in her core upon hearing how much he was enjoying her.
He leaned forward and took one of her nipples in his mouth and palmed her other breast while inching out some before pushing all the way back in.
He nipped at her breast, licking away the hurt, as he continued the shallow pace of out and then back in, before setting a steady pace. Feyre was positively mewling at the pressure now, at the sensation of being so filled up with no room left in her. When she thought she adjusted, he slowly lifted her legs to rest her ankles on his shoulders and increased the pace of his thrusts.
She felt her eyes begin to roll back some, drool more than likely collecting and what can only be described as inhuman noises pouring out of her mouth. They only increased when he licked the pads of his fingers and began rubbing less-than-gentle circles on her clit.
Feyre couldn’t form words. No one had ever had her like this before. No one had paid this much attention to her pleasure while also chasing their own.
Their voices turned into chants of yes yes yes and please please please before Rhys uttered the magic words, “I want you come on my cock, Feyre darling,” causing her to crest a wave higher than any she’d had before. She was babbling utter nonsense, she knew it, but she didn’t care. She was seeing stars behind her eyes, and he was still going.
His pace faltered and she felt him pump once, twice, before finishing inside of her, gently setting her legs down and draping his body over his.
They were a pile of limbs, slick with sweat, panting, unable to do much else.
“So, round two in 30 minutes?” He mused.
Feyre only slapped his shoulder and directed him to her bathroom to grab a towel to clean them both up.
**
The next morning, after several more rounds, Feyre watched Rhys sleeping in her bed as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
She threw a pillow on his bare ass in an attempt to wake him up, which she found was successful. Wrapped in just her throw blanket, she squared her shoulders as she moved to get her day started.
He looked up at her, locks of hair falling in his eyes, and said, “Ready for more, darling?”
Feyre blushed but knew she couldn’t indulge anymore - it was one night and wouldn’t, no, couldn’t, go any further.
“Um, so, you have to go - I have stuff to do and… yeah.”
“You’re kicking me out?”
“Yeah, sorry, I don’t really know how to do this but I have things I need to take care of today so…”
“Right, you said that. Well can’t I at least take you to breakfast?”
She laughed a little before saying, “No, no breakfast. We don’t have to do the thing where we try to make this a thing.
His eyes flashed with the briefest hint of hurt before continuing, “Well, what if I’m not ready to say goodbye to you?”
She squirmed at this and said, “Look, you’re really sweet - crazy hot and fantastic in bed - but I got out of a serious relationship not too long ago and I don’t know that I’m looking for anything… right now.”
He nodded his understanding. “Well can we swap numbers? So you can reach me when you feel ready?”
She decided this was something she could handle, and so after a few more minutes of awkwardness and exchanged numbers, she sent the man on his way.
***
A few weeks later, Feyre was sitting on her lunch break, scrolling through her phone, when she received an unexpected text.
12:13 PM
R: I’ve got a fever, and the only prescription is more Feyre.
Feyre rolled her eyes and ignored the SNL reference. They had a great night/morning together but it was just one time - she didn’t have it in her to entertain anything serious.
He tried to initiate a conversation with her a handful of times since their encounter. Feyre tried to return the niceties but ultimately rebuffed him. Rhys was older, likely looking for someone who was ready to settle down soon, and that just wasn’t Feyre.
12:20 PM
F: Tylenol may be more effective and come with less baggage.
12:21 PM
R: I tried Tylenol and it didn’t work. I know exactly what I need - and it’s to see you again.
Feyre didn’t have time to respond - one of her team members, Clare Beddor, was at the door of the break room motioning to her to hurry to the conference room for their staff meeting.
Today would be the day they all met the new Director.
Feyre walked in with Clare and they overheard some of the women saying, “I heard he’s like stupid hot,” and the words “silver fox,” being tossed around.
Feyre and Clare merely rolled their eyes. They couldn’t blame the women for being curious - it had been awhile since there was new blood around. Especially hot new blood. Tamlin was about the closest thing to attractive at Prythian, but he was a big been there, hated that for Feyre.
The women took two of the last seats - second row to the front, and waited for the chief of staff, Alis Summers, to begin the meeting.
“Hey do you want to get coffee after this?” Feyre asked Clare.
“It’s like you read my mind, Archeron.”
Alis, a short, tan, blonde haired and blued eyed woman in her 50s, took to the front and called the room to order.
Feyre stretched to try and find someone she didn’t recognize in the crowd, but all she saw were familiar faces.
Maybe they went with someone internally and they just kept it under wraps until now, she thought to herself.
“Good morning, everyone. I’ll keep this brief. This is just for the purposes of introducing you all to the new director and to go over some other house keeping items. First things first, summer is here, which means you’ll all be taking time off…”
Alis went over the yearly reminders, which, at this point, Feyre was more than familiar with. Three years with Prythian made her practically executive leadership.
“And now, please allow me the pleasure of introducing to you all our new Marketing Director, Rhysand Asterios.”
Everyone clapped, but Feyre blanched, praying that there happened to be two Rhysand’s in Velaris and this one wasn’t the one who fucked her into oblivion a couple of weekends ago.
She was very much wrong about her hope that there were two Rhysand’s, because the one that was standing next to Alis now was her Rhysand who fucked her into oblivion a couple of weekends ago.
Her mouth went dry as he looked around the room and made eye contact with her, a puzzled looking taking over his face. She felt like she was going to be sick - no, she didn’t feel like - she was going to be sick. Because not only had she had him 50 ways to Sunday, but she had also very rudely kicked him out of her apartment when it was all said and done. The same man she now has to report to.