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The steam was already curling through the air when Nesta pushed open the heavy oak door to the bathroom, her mind elsewhere—something about a book she’d left half-read, or maybe the biting retort she’d been crafting for Cassian’s latest taunt. She didn’t register the sound of water sloshing or the faint hum of his voice until it was too late. The door swung wide, and there he was: Cassian, Illyrian warlord, all corded muscle and bronzed skin, standing stark naked in the candlelit glow of the room.
Her breath caught in her throat, sharp and sudden, as her eyes landed on him. He was a vision of raw, unfiltered masculinity—broad shoulders glistening with a faint sheen of sweat, dark hair loose and wild, the planes of his chest carved like a sculptor’s dream. But it wasn’t his towering frame or the intricate tattoos snaking over his arms that pinned her in place. No, it was lower. Her gaze dropped, helpless, to the thick, proud length of him—twelve inches of pure, unapologetic cock, hanging heavy between his thighs, the tip brushing just above his knee. It was obscene, glorious, a weapon in its own right, and Nesta couldn’t tear her eyes away.
She froze, rooted to the spot, her mouth parting slightly as heat flooded her cheeks. The room seemed to shrink, the air thickening with the scent of pine soap and something muskier, something distinctly him. Cassian, mid-step toward the clawfoot tub, turned his head and caught her staring. A slow, wicked smirk spread across his lips, his hazel eyes glinting with mischief as he straightened, making no move to cover himself. If anything, he shifted his stance, giving her an even better view.
“Like what you see, Nes?” His voice was a low, gravelly purr, laced with amusement and a dark, knowing edge that sent a shiver racing down her spine.
Her brain scrambled for a response, but her body betrayed her—her nipples tightened against the thin fabric of her blouse, and a pulsing ache bloomed between her legs, hot and insistent. She snapped her mouth shut, forcing her eyes up to his face, but the damage was done. He’d seen her gawking, seen the way her chest heaved with a breath she couldn’t quite catch. Fury—real or feigned—was her only defense.
“What the hell, Cassian?” she snapped, her voice sharper than she intended, though it trembled at the edges. “Don’t you lock doors? Or do you just enjoy parading around like some shameless beast?” She crossed her arms over her chest, as if that could hide the flush creeping up her neck or the way her thighs pressed together involuntarily.
Cassian’s smirk widened into a full, taunting grin. “Oh, I think you’re the one enjoying it, sweetheart.” He took a lazy step closer, his cock swaying slightly with the movement, and Nesta’s eyes flicked down again—damn it—before she jerked them back up. “No need to pretend. I can smell how much you want this.”
Her face burned, mortification warring with the slick, shameful heat pooling in her core. “You’re disgusting,” she spat, spinning on her heel to storm out, her boots clicking furiously against the stone floor. But as she yanked the door shut behind her, the image of him—naked, dripping with confidence, that monstrous cock branding itself into her mind—refused to fade. She pressed her back against the wall outside, her breath ragged, her fingers curling into fists as she fought the urge to slide a hand between her legs right there in the hallway. Gods, she hated him. And gods, she wanted him.
Back in the bathroom, Cassian’s deep, rumbling laugh echoed off the tiled walls as he stepped into the tub, the water lapping at his thighs before he sank down, submerging that ridiculous, beautiful length of him. He leaned his head back against the rim, still grinning, his mind already spinning with ways to tease her later. She could huff and glare all she wanted—he’d seen the hunger in her eyes. And he’d be damned if he didn’t make her admit it eventually.
Cassian sank lower into the tub, the hot water swirling around his chest, but it did nothing to cool the fire igniting in his blood. His mind was still on Nesta—her wide eyes, the way her lips had parted in shock, the flush that had crept up her neck despite her furious exit. He could picture her now, storming down the hall, her hips swaying in that tight skirt she favored, her breaths coming short and sharp. She’d been pissed, sure, but he’d bet every gold coin in Velaris that she was soaked—her thighs trembling with the kind of need she’d never admit to his face.
His cock twitched at the thought, stirring beneath the water. He let out a low, guttural chuckle, one hand sliding down his chest as he imagined her rushing back to her room, slamming the door shut, and fumbling with her clothes. She’d be cursing his name, her fingers slipping beneath her panties—already drenched, no doubt—rubbing herself raw to the memory of his naked body, that twelve-inch monster she couldn’t stop staring at. The idea of her spread out on her bed, moaning his name through gritted teeth, sent a jolt straight to his groin. His hand wrapped around his shaft, thick and heavy now, fully hard as he gave it a slow, deliberate stroke.
“Fuck,” he muttered, tipping his head back, eyes half-lidded as the water sloshed around him. He could almost hear her—those little gasps she’d try to stifle, the wet sound of her fingers plunging into herself, chasing the release he’d sparked in her. His grip tightened, his thumb brushing over the swollen tip, and he groaned, low and rough, his hips bucking slightly into his fist.
A soft rustle of shadows was the only warning before Azriel’s voice cut through the haze. “That wasn’t very nice of you, Cass.” The words were laced with a teasing edge, dry and familiar, as the spymaster materialized from the corner of the room, his lean form cloaked in darkness until he stepped into the flickering candlelight.
Cassian didn’t flinch, didn’t even pause. His hand kept moving, slow and steady, as he cracked one eye open to meet Azriel’s amused gaze. “Didn’t hear you knock, brother,” he drawled, his voice thick with arousal, utterly shameless. He didn’t bother covering himself—there was no point. He, Azriel, and Rhys had seen each other in every state imaginable growing up in the Illyrian camps. Privacy was a myth back then, just like modesty. They’d jerked off in the same cramped tents, fucked their way through lovers in shared huts, even taken women together on more than one occasion—grunting and sweating in the same room, trading smirks over the chaos of it all. This? This was nothing.
Azriel arched a brow, his lips twitching as he knelt by the tub, resting an elbow on the rim. “Nesta looked ready to skin you alive. Or climb you. Hard to tell.” His hazel eyes flicked down to Cassian’s hand, still working himself under the water, the surface rippling with every stroke. “Guess you’re betting on the latter.”
Cassian grinned, feral and unrepentant. “She’s dripping for me right now, Az. I’d stake my wings on it. Probably locked herself in her room, fucking her hand and wishing it was me splitting her open.” His cock throbbed at the image, and he pumped himself harder, the water splashing against the sides of the tub. “Gods, I’d give anything to see her face when she comes, all pissed off and desperate.”
Azriel snorted, unfazed, his shadows curling lazily around him as he pulled a folded report from his leathers and tossed it onto the nearby stool. “Field update from the Steppes. Quiet for once. No ambushes, no rebellions. Boring as hell.” He leaned closer, voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur. “So, you gonna do something about her, or just keep jerking off to the thought of it?”
Cassian laughed, a deep, throaty sound that echoed off the stone walls. “Oh, I’ll do something about it. She can run her mouth all she wants—won’t stop me from bending her over the first chance I get.” His hand sped up, his breath hitching as the pressure built, his balls tightening. “Fuck, Az, you should’ve seen her face. She couldn’t stop staring at it. Twelve inches of prime Illyrian cock, and she’s out there pretending she doesn’t want it buried in her.”
Azriel’s lips quirked, his gaze steady as he watched Cassian’s arm flex, the water churning now with the force of his strokes. “You’re a bastard, you know that?” he said, but there was no judgment, just the easy camaraderie of centuries spent together. He’d seen worse—hell, he’d done worse—and Cassian’s brazen display didn’t even register as a blip.
Cassian’s head lolled back, his free hand gripping the edge of the tub as he chased the edge, his groans growing louder, rougher. “Yeah, but you love me for it. Fuck—gonna come thinking about her tight little—shit—” His words broke off into a growl as his release hit, thick spurts pulsing into the water, his hips jerking hard enough to send waves crashing over the sides.
Azriel just shook his head, standing with a faint smirk as Cassian slumped back, panting and grinning like a satisfied beast. “Get your ass out of there eventually,” he said, turning toward the door. “Rhys wants us downstairs in an hour. And maybe lock the damn door next time.”
Cassian waved a lazy hand, still catching his breath. “Where’s the fun in that?” he called after him, already plotting his next move with Nesta—and knowing full well she’d be thinking of him
Cassian lounged in the tub, the water still warm around him, his cum swirling in lazy, milky tendrils through the ripples. His eyes flicked from the mess he’d made to Azriel, who was already halfway to the door, shadows trailing him like a second skin. The spymaster moved with that quiet, lethal grace, but there was something in the set of his shoulders, the way he’d lingered a little too close, that sparked a thought in Cassian’s mind. When was the last time Az had gotten laid? Rhys had been running him ragged for months—endless spy missions, creeping through the dark corners of Prythian, no time to breathe, let alone fuck.
Cassian knew his brother’s habits well. Azriel liked it long and thorough—picking up a willing partner in some shadowed tavern corner, pinning them against a wall or bending them over a bed, and fucking them senseless until the sun clawed its way over the horizon. The man had stamina that rivaled even Cassian’s, and a quiet intensity that left his lovers wrecked and begging for more. But lately? Nothing. No late-night disappearances, no smug smirks over breakfast hinting at a conquest. Hell, with how busy Rhys had kept him, Az probably hadn’t even had a spare minute to wrap those scarred hands around himself and jerk off.
Cassian’s gaze sharpened, replaying the way Azriel had knelt by the tub, close enough that his breath had brushed the steam, his hazel eyes tracking every flex of Cassian’s arm, every stroke of his hand. It wasn’t unusual—gods knew the three of them had no boundaries left after the camps. They’d grown up beating off in the same muddy tents, grunting through their releases while the wind howled outside, or fucking their way through partners in shared rooms, the sounds of skin slapping skin mingling with coarse laughter. But Az getting that close? Staring that hard? That wasn’t just brotherly comfort. That was pent-up hunger, plain as day.
“Hey, Az,” Cassian called, his voice rough and lazy, cutting through the quiet. Azriel paused, half-turning, one brow raised. “I know you’ve been busy as hell. When’s the last time you rubbed one out?”
Azriel didn’t flinch, didn’t blush—just turned fully to face him, his lips twitching into a faint, dry smile. “Was I that obvious?” he asked, voice low and smooth, like he’d been caught sneaking a glance at a blade instead of his brother’s cock.
Cassian grinned, wide and wicked, propping an arm on the tub’s edge. “You were staring at my dick like it was the only reason in the world you wanted to live. Practically drooling, shadows and all.”
Azriel let out a rare laugh, sharp and genuine, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Nesta’s right—you’re a bastard,” he said, shaking his head. But there was no denial, no deflection, just that easy, familiar warmth between them.
Cassian’s grin turned sly, his gaze dropping deliberately to Azriel’s leathers, where the faint outline of something impressive strained against the fabric. “Come over here, then,” he said, voice dipping into a rough, teasing drawl. “I’ll lend you a hand. Brotherly duty and all.”
Azriel didn’t hesitate. He crossed the room in three long strides, his fingers already working the laces of his pants with the same precision he used on a dagger. The leathers parted, and he tugged them down just enough to free himself—eleven inches of thick, veined cock springing out, hard and flushed, the tip already glistening with a bead of precum. It was a sight, nearly as obscene as Cassian’s own, and Az didn’t bother hiding it as he stepped up to the tub, close enough that the heat of his body mingled with the steam rising off the water.
Cassian shifted, sitting up straighter, water sloshing as he reached out, his broad hand wrapping around Azriel’s shaft without preamble. Az let out a low hiss, his head tipping back slightly, shadows curling tighter around his shoulders as Cassian gave him a slow, firm stroke from base to tip. “Fuck, you are pent up,” Cassian muttered, his voice thick with approval. “How long’s it been, huh? Weeks? Months?”
“Too damn long,” Azriel growled, his hips twitching forward into Cassian’s grip, his scarred fingers flexing at his sides. “Rhys has me chasing ghosts instead of pussy. Barely slept, let alone fucked.”
Cassian chuckled, his thumb circling the head of Azriel’s cock, smearing that slick bead of precum until Az groaned, deep and guttural. “Poor bastard,” he teased, picking up the pace, his hand slick now with water and Az’s arousal. “No wonder you were eyeing me up. Needed to see a real cock to remind you what you’re missing.”
Azriel’s laugh was strained, cut off by a sharp inhale as Cassian twisted his wrist just right. “Keep talking, Cass,” he gritted out, “and I’ll shove it down your throat instead.”
“Promises, promises,” Cassian shot back, grinning as he worked him harder, the wet, rhythmic sound of his hand on Azriel’s cock filling the room. Azriel’s breaths grew ragged, his thighs tensing, and Cassian knew he wouldn’t last long—not with how wound up he was. But that was fine. They’d been here before, in dirtier, messier places, and they’d be here again. Just two brothers taking care of each other, the way they always had.
Cassian’s grip on Azriel’s eleven-inch cock was unrelenting, his calloused palm sliding slick and fast over the pulsing length, water dripping from his arm as he worked his brother with a rhythm born of familiarity and shameless intent. Azriel stood there, legs braced, his leathers shoved down just enough to let that monster of a dick hang free, and his scarred hands twitched at his sides like he was fighting the urge to grab Cassian’s head and take control. His shadows coiled tighter around him, dark tendrils licking at the air, feeding off the raw energy between them.
“Fuck, Az,” Cassian rasped, his voice a gravelly taunt as he squeezed harder, feeling Azriel throb in his hand. “You’re gonna blow any second, aren’t you? Been too long since you let that tight-ass control slip.” He grinned, teeth flashing, his own cock stirring again beneath the water just from the sight of Azriel unraveling—those sharp cheekbones flushed, lips parted, a low groan rumbling out of him as Cassian’s thumb swiped over the leaking tip.
Azriel’s head tipped forward, hazel eyes burning into Cassian’s, half-lidded and dark with need. “Keep running your mouth,” he growled, hips jerking into Cassian’s fist, “and I’ll fuck it quiet.” His voice was steady despite the strain, that dangerous calm he wielded like a blade, but the way his thighs tensed gave him away—he was close, teetering on the edge.
Cassian laughed, loud and rough, the sound bouncing off the tiled walls. “Big talk for a guy who’s about to paint my hand,” he shot back, speeding up, his strokes turning sloppy and brutal. The water sloshed around him, splashing onto the floor, mixing with the faint traces of his own cum still clouding the tub. “Come on, Az. Let it go. Bet you’ve been dreaming of this—someone to take the edge off while Rhys runs you into the ground.”
Azriel’s breath hitched, a rare crack in his composure, and his hand shot out to grip the edge of the tub, knuckles whitening. “Bastard,” he muttered, but there was a grin tugging at his lips, sharp and fleeting, before his head dropped back and a guttural moan tore out of him. His cock pulsed hard in Cassian’s grip, and then he was coming—thick, hot ropes of cum spurting over Cassian’s fist, dripping into the water, some catching on the rim of the tub as Azriel’s hips bucked through it, shadows flaring wild around him.
Cassian didn’t let up until Azriel was spent, milking every last shudder out of him with a smug, satisfied smirk. “There you go,” he said, pulling his hand back and shaking off the mess into the water. “Feel better now, shadowsinger? Or you still gonna stare at my dick like it’s your lifeline?”
Azriel exhaled hard, dragging a hand through his dark hair as he straightened, his cock still half-hard and glistening as he tucked it back into his leathers with a lazy sort of grace. “You’re insufferable,” he said, but his tone was lighter, the tension bled out of him, and that faint smile lingered. “Nesta’s got you pegged.”
Cassian leaned back in the tub, arms spread wide along the rim, grinning like a cat that’d caught the canary. “Yeah, well, she’s probably fingering herself to me right now, so I’ll take it. You’re welcome, by the way—next time Rhys has you chasing shadows, you won’t be so wound up you’re eye-fucking me in the bath.”
Azriel snorted, adjusting his pants and stepping back, his shadows settling into their usual lazy drift. “Keep dreaming, Cass. I’ve seen better.” But the glint in his eye said otherwise as he turned toward the door, tossing over his shoulder, “Clean up your mess before Rhys gets here. He’ll bitch about the smell.”
Cassian just laughed, sinking lower into the water, already replaying the whole damn day in his head—Nesta’s stare, Azriel’s release, and the promise of more chaos to come.
Cassian hauled himself out of the tub with a grunt, water cascading off his massive frame, rivulets tracing the hard lines of his chest, abs, and thighs before pooling on the stone floor. His cock swayed, still half-hard from the day’s antics, as he grabbed a towel from the rack and scrubbed it over his skin—rough, quick swipes that left him damp but not dripping. The air was thick with the musky scent of sex, a heady mix of his own cum and Azriel’s clinging to him despite the bath. He smirked, tossing the towel aside and stepping into his leathers, yanking them up over his thick legs and fastening them just enough to cage that twelve-inch beast straining against the fabric. A loose shirt followed, barely buttoned, and he raked a hand through his wet hair, shaking it out like a dog before heading for the door.
Halfway down the hall, the realization hit him—the bath had been pointless. He still reeked, a walking testament to his and Azriel’s release, the sharp tang of it cutting through the pine soap he’d tried to drown it with. A bark of laughter erupted from his chest, echoing off the walls of the House of Wind. “Well, shit,” he muttered to himself, grinning wide. No hiding that from anyone with a nose, least of all the Inner Circle.
His mind, never one to stay idle, took a sharp turn. He pictured it—him, Nesta, and Azriel, tangled up in a sweaty, filthy mess. Nesta on her knees, her smart mouth wrapped around his cock, gagging on its sheer size while Azriel fucked her from behind, those scarred hands gripping her hips hard enough to bruise. Her tits bouncing, her moans muffled around him, Azriel’s shadows teasing her clit until she screamed—Cassian’s dick twitched, hardening fully again, pressing painfully against his leathers. He could almost taste it, the salt of her skin, the heat of Azriel’s breath as they took her apart together.
“Interesting thought, brother,” Rhysand’s voice purred into his mind, smooth as velvet and laced with amusement. “But save it for later. I need you and the rest of the Inner Circle in the meeting room. You’re already five minutes late.”
Cassian snorted, not even flinching at the intrusion—Rhys poking around in his head was old news. He shot back a lazy, “I’ll be there soon, you prick,” his mental tone dripping with that cocky grin he knew drove Rhys up the wall. Adjusting his pants to ease the pressure on his erection, he laughed again, the sound rough and carefree, and picked up his pace toward the meeting room.
The thought lingered, though—Nesta’s glare turning to lust, Azriel’s quiet intensity breaking into grunts of pleasure. He’d be damned if he didn’t make it happen one day. For now, he’d just stroll in, stinking of cum and swagger, and let the Inner Circle deal with it.
Cassian strode into the meeting room, his heavy boots thudding against the polished wood, his leathers creaking faintly with every step. The scent of him—sweat, pine, and the unmistakable musk of cum—trailed in his wake, but his grin was all swagger, unshaken as he scanned the room. Rhys lounged at the head of the table, one brow arched in faint amusement; Azriel leaned against the wall, shadows curling lazily around him; Feyre sat with a stack of maps, her lips twitching like she was fighting a smile; and then—there she was. Nesta. Perched in a high-backed chair, her spine straight, her golden-brown hair coiled tight like the restraint she clung to. His pulse kicked up, but he didn’t let it show—just shot her a quick, filthy wink as he dropped into the seat across from her, sprawling out like he owned the damn place.
Nesta’s eyes met his, that familiar icy disinterest locking into place, her lips a flat line of disdain. But then—there it was. A flicker, so small it might’ve been a trick of the light: the tiniest upturn at the corner of her mouth, gone as fast as it came. Cassian’s grin widened, predatory and smug. That was it. Proof. She’d fucked herself to the thought of him—probably still warm from it, her fingers slick with her own release, his name a curse on her tongue as she came. His chest swelled with pride, cock twitching in his pants again. Today was a fucking triumph: Nesta’s orgasm on her own hand, Azriel’s spilling over his fist—both because of him. He was a goddamn king.
Nesta, though, wasn’t just sitting there stewing in her own afterglow. Her Fae senses—sharper now than they’d ever been as a human—picked up something else. A faint, primal scent wafted across the table, curling into her nose like a secret whispered in the dark. It was Cassian, unmistakably—his cum, sharp and salty, clinging to him despite the bath—but there was more. Azriel’s scent layered in, darker, smokier, a match to the mess Cassian had made. Her mind snapped it together in an instant: those two bastards had been at it, right before this. Cassian’s hand on Azriel, Azriel’s release mixing with his own—she could practically see it, the tub water churning, their grunts echoing off the tiles.
Shock jolted through her, but she schooled her face into that perfect mask of indifference, her gaze drifting casually around the room as if she were bored. No one else reacted. Rhys didn’t blink, just sipped his wine with that knowing smirk; Feyre shuffled her papers, unfazed; Azriel didn’t even glance up from sharpening a dagger. Not a single eyebrow raised, not a cough or a grimace. The realization hit her like a punch: this wasn’t new. This was normal for them—Cassian and Azriel, probably Rhys too, fucking around, jerking each other off, sharing lovers like it was just another Tuesday. Her thighs clenched under the table, heat flooding her core so fast she nearly gasped. The thought of it—those three Illyrian warriors, all muscle and cock and unrestrained lust, tangled up together—had her wet again, her pulse hammering between her legs.
Cassian caught her eye, that smug bastard, and leaned back in his chair, spreading his legs just enough to draw attention to the bulge still straining his leathers. He knew she knew. And from the way his hazel eyes glinted, he was damn proud of it. Nesta forced her gaze away, fixing it on the wall, but her mind was racing—Cassian’s twelve inches, Azriel’s eleven, the sheer size of them, the sounds they’d make. She was hot, bothered, and pissed off about it, her panties soaked beneath her skirts, and all she could do was sit there and pretend she didn’t care while Cassian’s pride practically glowed across the table.
Nesta’s mind churned, a storm of lust and irritation she refused to let break the surface. She didn’t know who she envied more—Cassian or Azriel. Cassian was a walking monument to masculinity, all broad shoulders, chiseled jaw, and that obscene twelve-inch cock she couldn’t scrub from her thoughts. He was primal, loud, unapologetic—a rutting beast she’d never admit she craved, not when his ego was already a bloated, swaggering thing that filled every room he entered. Azriel, though? He was different. Lethal grace wrapped in quiet beauty, those sharp cheekbones and shadowed eyes haunting her in a way that felt almost unfair. She’d always thought him the most stunning of the three, a dark angel carved from midnight, and the idea of him tangled up with Cassian only sharpened that ache.
Her gaze flicked to Azriel without her permission, drawn like a moth to a flame. He caught it—of course he did, the bastard—and a subtle wink flashed across his face, quick and sly. It said you’re not too bad yourself, but there was more: a glint that whispered I know you know what we did. It was bold, infuriating, and it sent a fresh wave of heat spiraling through her, her clit throbbing under the table. She locked her expression down, jaw tight, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction, but gods, she wanted to climb over the table and ride that smug look off his face.
Azriel wasn’t done, though. He slid from his spot against the wall with that silent, predatory grace, stepping behind Cassian’s chair. His scarred hands settled on Cassian’s shoulders, firm and possessive, and then—deliberately—he rested his chin atop Cassian’s head, dark hair brushing Cassian’s wild locks. It was a blatant claim, a silent he’s mine, and Nesta’s blood boiled even as her breath hitched. Cassian, quick as ever, caught the game and ran with it. His big hand slid up to cover Azriel’s, rubbing it with a slow, intimate stroke, his hazel eyes locked on Nesta. The message was clear: I’m a catch, sweetheart. Wait too long, and I’ll fuck someone else.
She forced herself to look away, staring at the grain of the table like it held the secrets of the universe, but a tiny twitch at the corner of her mouth betrayed her. She was pissed, turned on, jealous as hell—and they knew it. Around the table, the others traded glances—Feyre’s lips quirked, Rhys’s eyes gleamed with suppressed laughter, even Amren’s silver gaze flickered with dry amusement. They all saw through her, the little tells she couldn’t quite bury.
Rhysand’s voice slid into Cassian’s and Azriel’s minds, smooth and exasperated. “You’ve had your fun, you bastards. Stop torturing the poor girl before she sets the room on fire.”
Cassian’s grin didn’t falter, but he gave Azriel’s hand a final pat before dropping his own back to the table, sprawling out again like a satisfied lion. Azriel straightened, stepping back with a faint smirk, his shadows curling around him as if they, too, were in on the joke. Nesta kept her eyes fixed ahead, her nails digging into her palms under the table, her core slick and pulsing with a need she’d never voice. She hated them—hated how they played her, how they knew—and yet the image of Cassian’s cock and Azriel’s beauty burned behind her eyes, daring her to act.
Nesta’s mind was a battlefield, plotting revenge with surgical precision. She’d wipe that smug grin off Cassian’s face—maybe by pinning him down and riding him until he begged, leaving him hard and unsatisfied just to watch him squirm. Azriel, too—she’d tease him silent, make him choke on that quiet beauty until he broke and pleaded for her touch. Her fingers flexed under the table, nails biting into her palms as she imagined their groans, their surrender, her triumph. She was mid-scheme when Amren’s voice sliced through the haze like a dagger.
“If you three are done with your exhausting foreplay,” Amren drawled, her silver eyes glinting with irritation, “I, for one, would like to know why Rhysand dragged us here. I had plans today—better ones than watching you eye-fuck each other.”
Cassian’s laugh boomed out, rough and unrestrained, his head tipping back as if Amren had just handed him a gift. Azriel’s lips curved into that subtle, wicked smile, his shadows flickering like they were laughing too. Nesta’s gut twisted—mortification burned hot in her chest, but she’d be damned if she let it show. She turned her head slowly, leveling Amren with a glare so withering it could’ve stripped paint, her lips a tight, unyielding line. Inside, though, her pulse raced, her thighs pressing together as the word foreplay echoed in her skull, conjuring images of Cassian’s hands, Azriel’s mouth, and her own unraveling.
Rhysand, ever the unflappable bastard, carried on like nothing had happened, his voice smooth as silk. “Yes, let’s begin,” he said, leaning forward in his chair, violet eyes sweeping the room. “I called you here to discuss the border. As you all know, the wall’s down, and that’s left us exposed. Spring’s still a mess, Autumn’s sniffing around, and the human lands are a wildcard. I’d love to find a way to secure it—something smarter than patrols and wards.”
Nesta forced her focus to Rhys, shoving her revenge fantasies aside, though the heat lingered, a low thrum in her blood. Cassian’s laugh had settled into a smug grin, his legs still sprawled wide, and Azriel’s gaze flicked to her for a split second—knowing, teasing—before settling on Rhys. Amren tapped her nails on the table, impatient, while Feyre unfolded a map, her expression all business. The room shifted gears, but the air still crackled, charged with what Amren had called out and what Nesta wouldn’t admit: the three of them were a fuse waiting to ignite.
Feyre’s voice slipped into Cassian’s mind, half-teasing, half-serious, a playful edge cutting through the meeting’s drone. “Please close your legs, Cass. We need everyone at their best, and you’re distracting my poor sister.”
Cassian’s grin sharpened, and he shot back a mental laugh, rough and unrepentant. “Give me just a little longer, Feyre. I wanna see if I can make her so wet without touching her that it puddles in her chair.” His hazel eyes flicked to Nesta, still ramrod straight across the table, her jaw tight but her scent—gods, that faint, sweet musk—betraying her. Feyre’s answering laugh echoed in his skull, bright and conspiratorial, and he knew she’d caught it too.
The meeting dragged on for two hours, a slog of maps and strategies that went nowhere. Rhysand finally called it, rubbing his temples as he leaned back. “We’re done for today. No solution yet, but we’ll pick it up tomorrow.” The wall stayed down, the borders vulnerable, and the Inner Circle’s collective frustration hung thick in the air.
Cassian stretched, his leathers creaking, and clapped his hands together. “How about we all hit the town tonight? Get drunk, dance, forget this shit for a few hours. Velaris is calling.” Feyre nodded with a grin, Rhys smirked, Amren muttered something about wine being her only plan, and Azriel gave a quiet tilt of his head—everyone was in. Except Nesta. She stood abruptly, chair scraping, and started for the door without a word, her hips swaying in that way that made Cassian’s cock twitch despite the marathon it’d already run today.
“Nesta,” he called, voice dripping with mock innocence as he leaned forward. “You sure you don’t wanna come? I do hate to think how I’ll manage without you tonight—or who I’ll have to manage instead.” Before she could snap back, Azriel slid up behind him, shadows curling, and wrapped his arms around Cassian’s waist. His scarred hand dipped low, grabbing Cassian’s cock through his leathers and giving it a slow, deliberate shake—twelve inches of barely contained heat jostling for her attention. Azriel’s lips quirked, a silent taunt aimed straight at her.
Nesta froze mid-step, her back to them, and Cassian saw it—the moment she snapped. Her shoulders tensed, her hands clenched, and then she whirled around, storming back with fire in her eyes. She grabbed them both by their belts, yanking hard enough to make Cassian stumble and Azriel’s shadows flare. “Fine,” she hissed, her voice low and dangerous, dripping with promise. “You get what you want. But don’t blame me when you two can’t walk tomorrow morning.”
She didn’t wait for a reply—just turned and hauled them toward her room, her grip iron-tight, her stride furious. Cassian’s laugh rumbled out, deep and triumphant, as Azriel’s quiet chuckle followed, both of them letting her lead like wolves trailing a lioness. The Inner Circle watched them go—Feyre biting her lip with a grin, Rhys shaking his head with a laugh, Amren rolling her eyes but smirking into her glass. The door to the hall slammed shut behind them, and the room erupted in knowing laughter, the kind that said they all knew what was coming next.
Nesta shoved her bedroom door open, dragging Cassian and Azriel inside before kicking it shut with a bang. The air crackled, thick with tension and the scent of her arousal—sharp, undeniable, a match to the cum still clinging to them. She released their belts, stepping back to face them, her chest heaving, her blue-grey eyes blazing. “You think you’re so clever,” she snarled, hands on her hips, “teasing me all damn day. Well, you’ve got me. Now what?”
Cassian grinned, stepping closer, his cock already straining against his pants again. “Now, Nes,” he purred, voice rough with want, “we fuck you until you scream—or until we’re the ones begging. Your call.” Azriel moved in beside him, silent but lethal, his eleven-inch erection tenting his leathers as he watched her like prey, shadows licking at his fingertips.
Nesta’s lips twitched, a smirk breaking through her fury, and she pointed to the bed. “Strip,” she ordered, voice cutting like a whip. “Both of you. Let’s see if you can back up all that swagger.”
Nesta stood there, her breath uneven, as Cassian and Azriel stripped with a speed that bordered on desperation. Cassian yanked his shirt off, revealing the slabs of muscle and dark tattoos that rippled across his chest, then shoved his leathers down, his twelve-inch cock springing free, thick and flushed, already leaking at the tip. Azriel was quieter, methodical—his scarred hands unfastening his jacket, peeling off the tight fabric to expose his lean, sculpted frame, shadows clinging to him like a lover’s touch. His pants followed, and his eleven-inch cock jutted out, hard and veined, a bead of precum glistening as he kicked the leathers aside.
Nesta didn’t wait. She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her soaked panties—drenched from hours of pent-up want—and tugged them down, the fabric peeling away from her slick thighs with a wet sound. She tossed them aside, and they landed with a soft thud near Cassian’s feet. His nostrils flared, his hands twitching as he fought the primal urge to snatch them up, bury his face in them, and inhale her scent—sweet, musky, all her. He groaned low in his throat, cock jerking, but he held back, eyes locked on her.
Azriel’s gaze burned hotter, though, darting between Nesta and Cassian. He wanted her—gods, he did, her sharp edges and fire calling to him—but the thought of Cassian’s massive cock splitting him open again had his pulse racing, his shadows tightening around him in anticipation. Nesta stepped to the bed, her movements deliberate, and gripped the hem of her dress. She pulled it up and off in one fluid motion, letting it fall to the floor, baring herself completely. Her pussy glistened, wet and swollen, lips parted and begging to be touched. Her breasts bounced free—full, pale, and crowned with pink nipples, each pierced with a delicate silver bar neither man had known about. Cassian’s jaw dropped, Azriel’s eyes darkened, and both their cocks throbbed at the sight.
She sank onto the edge of the bed, legs spreading wide, her voice cutting through the charged silence. “Since you boys decided to tease me all day, I’m in charge now.” Her tone was steel wrapped in silk, commanding and unyielding. Cassian and Azriel nodded, instant and eager—two warriors reduced to putty, willing to crawl for her if she asked. Nesta’s lips curled into a wicked smile, her eyes glinting with power. “Good boys,” she purred, the praise dripping like honey. “Azriel, on your knees. Eat my pussy. Cassian, fuck him.”
Azriel moved first, dropping to his knees between her thighs with a grace that belied the hunger in his eyes. His hands slid up her legs, scarred fingers digging into her flesh as he spread her wider, his breath hot against her dripping core. He didn’t tease—his tongue plunged in, lapping at her clit with a slow, deliberate stroke before sucking it hard, drawing a sharp gasp from her. Nesta’s head tipped back, her pierced nipples hardening further as she fisted his dark hair, grinding against his mouth.
Cassian didn’t need telling twice. He stepped up behind Azriel, his cock in hand, stroking it once to smear the precum down its length. “Fuck, Az,” he growled, dropping to one knee and lining himself up. Azriel’s ass was perfect—tight, muscled, and ready—and Cassian spat into his palm, slicking himself up before pressing the fat head of his cock against Azriel’s hole. “You good?” he rasped, voice thick with lust.
Azriel pulled back from Nesta’s pussy just long enough to grunt, “Do it,” his lips glistening with her arousal. Cassian thrust in, slow at first, stretching him wide—eleven inches meeting twelve in a brutal, beautiful clash. Azriel groaned into Nesta’s cunt, the sound vibrating through her, and she moaned, loud and unrestrained, her hips bucking against his face.
Cassian set a rhythm, hard and deep, his hands gripping Azriel’s hips as he fucked him, each thrust shoving Azriel’s tongue deeper into Nesta. “Gods, you’re tight,” Cassian muttered, sweat beading on his brow, his balls slapping against Azriel’s thighs. Nesta watched them through half-lidded eyes, her fingers tweaking her pierced nipples, pleasure coiling tight in her gut as Azriel’s tongue flicked and sucked, relentless.
“Harder,” she ordered, voice hoarse, and both obeyed—Azriel eating her like a man starved, Cassian pounding Azriel until the room filled with the wet, filthy sounds of skin on skin and muffled moans. She was in control, and they were hers to command.
Nesta’s moans spilled out, raw and ragged, her body practically melting into the bed as Azriel’s tongue worked her over. She’d known he’d be good—those centuries of quiet, brooding intensity had to translate somewhere—but gods, his tongue was unholy. It darted and swirled, flicking her clit with a precision that made her toes curl, then plunged deep, lapping at her dripping core like he was drinking her down. Better than any human lover she’d ever had, clumsy boys who fumbled in the dark—Azriel had honed this skill over lifetimes, and it showed in every wicked stroke. Her thighs trembled around his head, her pierced nipples aching as she arched, one hand fisting his hair, the other clawing at the sheets. “Fuck, Az,” she gasped, voice breaking, her control slipping as pleasure coiled tight and hot in her belly.
Azriel, though, wasn’t as confident as she thought. Buried between her legs, his tongue a blur, he worried he wasn’t enough—not tonight. Eating pussy was his art, his fucking religion, and he lived for the way women shattered under his mouth, but Cassian’s cock was a distraction he couldn’t shake. That twelve-inch monster slammed into him, stretching him wide, hitting every spot that made his vision blur and his groans vibrate against Nesta’s clit. Cassian was the best he’d ever had—thick, relentless, a brutal rhythm that owned him—and it was throwing him off his game, splitting his focus between her slick heat and the pounding in his ass.
Cassian, meanwhile, fucked like a god unleashed. His hips snapped forward, sweat gleaming on his chest, muscles flexing as he drove into Azriel with a force that shook the bed. He watched Nesta unraveling—her moans, her flushed skin, the way Azriel’s tongue made her writhe—and it spurred him on, his thrusts turning savage. “I’m next,” he growled, voice rough with lust, his eyes locked on Nesta’s dripping pussy, imagining sinking into her the second Azriel was done.
Nesta’s head snapped up, her pleasure-hazed eyes narrowing. “I’m in charge,” she snarled, her voice cutting through the haze like a whip. “I decide what happens. Azriel—kick him in the balls for me.”
Azriel didn’t hesitate. Mid-lick, his leg shot up, fast and precise, his heel slamming into Cassian’s heavy, swinging balls. The impact was sharp, a dull thud in the room, and Cassian’s rhythm faltered—but instead of a yelp, a deep, guttural moan ripped out of him. His head tipped back, eyes rolling, his cock jerking inside Azriel as pleasure spiked through the pain. He didn’t stop fucking, just grinned down at Nesta, wild and unhinged. “I’m a warrior, Nes,” he rasped, voice thick with dark delight. “If you can’t find pleasure in pain, you don’t last long.”
Nesta blinked, surprised despite herself, her pussy clenching around Azriel’s tongue as Cassian’s words sank in. She filed that away—pain as pleasure—a wicked little note for later, her mind already spinning with ways to test it. For now, she tightened her grip on Azriel’s hair, shoving his face harder against her. “Keep going,” she ordered, breathless, “and don’t you dare stop until I come.” Azriel obeyed, redoubling his efforts, his tongue a blur as he sucked and licked, determined to prove himself despite Cassian’s relentless pounding.
Cassian laughed, a low, filthy sound, and picked up his pace again, fucking Azriel so hard the bed creaked, his balls still throbbing from the kick and loving every second of it. “Your move, Nes,” he taunted, grinning like a beast. Nesta just smirked, her climax building, ready to take them both apart piece by piece.
Nesta’s climax hit like a tidal wave, shattering through her with a force that ripped a scream from her throat. Her pussy clenched hard around Azriel’s tongue, pulsing as she came, slick heat flooding his mouth. Her thighs clamped around his head, trembling, her pierced nipples taut and aching as she bucked against him, riding out every shuddering wave. Azriel didn’t let up—he purred into her, a low, vibrating growl that sent aftershocks racing through her oversensitive clit. The sensation was too much, a delicious torment that had her gasping, “Fuck—Az—stop—” but her hands stayed tangled in his hair, holding him there as her body quaked.
Finally, she released him, slumping back on the bed, chest heaving, her skin flushed and glistening. Azriel pulled away, his lips and chin shiny with her release, and leaned back against Cassian’s broad chest, his own breath ragged. Cassian didn’t miss a beat—his hands gripped Azriel’s hips tighter, and he started fucking him in earnest, no holding back. His twelve-inch cock drove into Azriel with brutal, relentless thrusts, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the room. Azriel’s head lolled back against Cassian’s shoulder, his shadows flaring wild, and tears—actual fucking tears—streamed down his face, born of pure, overwhelming pleasure. His eleven-inch cock bobbed with every thrust, leaking steadily, his moans breaking into sobs as Cassian wrecked him.
Nesta watched, sprawled on the bed, her legs still spread, her pussy dripping from her orgasm. It was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen—Azriel, the stoic shadowsinger, reduced to a weeping, trembling mess, and Cassian, a god of war and lust, claiming him with every savage pump of his hips. Her eyes locked with Cassian’s, and he held her gaze, a feral grin splitting his face. One massive hand slid up to wrap around Azriel’s throat, squeezing just enough to make Az choke out a whimper, while the other closed around Azriel’s cock, pumping it fast and rough. Cassian was performing for her, fucking Azriel like a deity staking his claim, every thrust a show of power, every stroke of his hand a taunt.
“Like this, Nes?” Cassian rasped, his voice a low growl, his hazel eyes burning into hers. “Watch me break him for you.” Azriel’s sobs grew louder, his body shaking as Cassian’s hand worked his cock, precum slicking his fingers, his balls drawing tight. Nesta couldn’t look away—her hand drifted down, fingers slipping into her soaked pussy, curling inside herself as she watched them. She fucked herself to their rhythm, two fingers plunging deep, her thumb rubbing her clit, her moans mingling with Azriel’s cries and Cassian’s grunts.
“Gods—yes,” she breathed, her voice thick with need, her eyes darting between Cassian’s hand on Azriel’s throat and the way his cock disappeared into Azriel’s ass. She was drunk on it—the power, the pleasure, the sight of them falling apart because of her. Cassian’s pace turned punishing, his grip on Azriel’s cock tightening, and Nesta knew they were all teetering on the edge, ready to crash together.
Azriel’s climax hit like a fucking storm. His scream tore through the room—“Cassian!”—raw and broken, his eleven-inch cock erupting like a goddamn horse, thick ropes of cum shooting across the floor, splattering the bed, some even hitting Nesta’s thighs. His body convulsed, shadows thrashing wild around him, tears streaking his face as he rode the edge of ecstasy—and then he went limp, eyes rolling back, passing out cold in Cassian’s arms. His chest heaved once, twice, then stilled, a blissful wreck slumped against the warrior who’d fucked him senseless.
Cassian froze mid-thrust, his cock still buried deep, and let out an exasperated huff. “Every damn time,” he muttered, annoyance lacing his tone as he glared down at Azriel’s unconscious form. “He rides my cock like a greedy bastard, gets what he wants, and then—bam—out like a light, leaving me high and dry.” His twelve-inch dick twitched, still rock-hard and glistening with Azriel’s heat, unsatisfied and aching for more. He shook his head, a wry grin tugging at his lips as he carefully lowered Azriel to the floor, easing him down onto the cool stone. His cock slipped out inch by inch, slick and heavy, popping free with a wet sound that made Nesta’s breath catch. Azriel didn’t stir, sprawled out like a fallen god, cum pooling beneath him, shadows curling lazily now in his sleep.
Cassian straightened, rolling his shoulders, and turned to Nesta with a smirk that promised trouble. “Guess it’s just you and me tonight, Nes,” he said, voice low and rough, his hazel eyes glinting as he stalked toward the bed. His cock swayed with every step, obscene and demanding, and he didn’t bother hiding the hunger in his stare.
Nesta propped herself up on her elbows, her pussy still slick from her own fingers, her pierced nipples pebbled in the air. She glanced at Azriel’s limp form, then back to Cassian, one brow arching. “Is he okay?” she asked, her tone dry but edged with a flicker of concern.
Cassian laughed, a deep, rolling sound that filled the room. “Oh, he’ll be fine,” he said, waving a hand dismissively. “He’ll wake up in an hour, embarrassed as hell, muttering apologies while his shadows hide his face. Happens every time he comes that hard. Bastard’s just dramatic.” He climbed onto the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight, and loomed over her, his cock brushing her thigh as he grinned. “But me? I’m still good to go. You ready to take charge of this, or you just gonna stare?”
Nesta’s lips curled, a slow, dangerous smile spreading as she met his challenge head-on, her body already humming for more.
Cassian slid between Nesta’s legs, his massive frame looming over her, his twelve-inch cock in hand, throbbing and slick with precum. He lined himself up, the fat tip nudging her dripping entrance, stretching her just enough to make her gasp as he started to push in. But before he could sink deeper, Nesta moved—fast, fierce, flipping him onto his back with a strength that caught him off guard. He hit the bed with a grunt, shock flashing across his face for a split second, his hazel eyes wide as she loomed over him, triumphant.
“I’m in control, remember?” she snapped, her voice a low, commanding growl, her blue-grey eyes blazing with authority. Cassian’s shock melted into a grin, wicked and eager, as she swung a leg over him, straddling his face. Her pussy hovered inches from his mouth, glistening, swollen, and begging for attention. Cassian didn’t hesitate—he grabbed her hips and yanked her down, burying his face in her like it was his last fucking meal on earth. His tongue plunged deep, lapping at her core with hungry, messy strokes, sucking her clit hard enough to make her thighs quake. He growled into her, the sound vibrating through her, a starving man feasting on her slick heat.
Nesta moaned, loud and unrestrained, her head tipping back as pleasure ripped through her. Every sound she made sent Cassian’s cock twitching, the massive length jerking against his stomach, leaking steadily onto his abs. He gripped her bubble butt with both hands, fingers digging into the plump flesh for leverage, spreading her wider as he devoured her. His tongue flicked and swirled, relentless, sloppy, drinking her down like she was the finest wine in Velaris. “Fuck, Nes,” he mumbled into her pussy, voice muffled, “you taste so damn good.”
She shifted, leaning forward to lay across his stomach, her breasts pressing against his skin, pierced nipples grazing him as she settled. Her face hovered over his cock—twelve inches of thick, veined perfection, the head flushed and dripping—and his heavy balls, bouncing slightly with every twitch. A wicked idea sparked in her mind, dark and delicious, fueled by his earlier words. She tilted her head, her breath hot against his shaft as she purred, “What was it you said earlier? A warrior has to find pleasure in pain, or they won’t last long?”
Cassian paused mid-lick, his tongue still buried in her, and she felt his grin against her pussy. “Yeah,” he rasped, voice thick with lust, “that’s right.” He dove back in, sucking harder, daring her to test him. Nesta’s smirk widened—she had him right where she wanted him, and she was about to see just how much pain he could take with that cocky grin still intact.
Nesta’s hand shot down, wrapping around Cassian’s heavy balls, her fingers curling tight as she squeezed—hard. His moan rumbled into her pussy, deep and guttural, vibrating through her clit as he kept licking, sucking, his tongue relentless even as she gripped him. She smirked, testing him further, and delivered a sharp smack to his balls, the slap echoing in the room. Cassian’s hips jerked, a groan spilling out of him, but he didn’t pull away—his tongue plunged deeper, lapping at her like a man possessed. She hit him again, then again, a quick series of smacks, each one harder, watching his balls bounce and redden under her hand. His cock twitched violently, precum leaking in thick, steady drips onto his stomach, pooling there as he reveled in it.
“You weren’t lying,” she purred, voice husky with arousal, her fingers still kneading his sack. “You really do find pleasure in it.” She leaned closer, her breath hot against his leaking tip. “Harder? Faster?”
Cassian’s muffled growl was all the answer she needed—“Yes”—and she didn’t hold back. Her fist clenched, and she punched his balls, a solid, brutal hit that made his whole body jolt. He moaned louder, the sound buzzing against her clit, and she didn’t stop—punching again, then again, over and over, her knuckles slamming into him with a rhythm that matched his tongue’s frantic pace. His balls swelled under the assault, turning a deep, angry purple, bruised and heavy, but Cassian fucking loved it. His hips bucked, his cock throbbing, precum flowing like a river now, and he ate her pussy with a ferocity that bordered on worship—lips sucking, tongue thrusting, nose buried in her slick folds.
Nesta’s climax built fast, her moans turning to cries as Cassian’s relentless mouth pushed her over the edge. She came hard, her pussy clenching, flooding his face with her release, her thighs locking around his head as she ground against him. Cassian didn’t falter—not for a second—licking her through it, even as his own orgasm hit. His cock erupted, untouched, thick spurts of cum shooting up in messy arcs, landing hot and sticky across Nesta’s face. It splattered her cheeks, her lips, dripping down her chin as she gasped, still shuddering from her own high.
He finally pulled back, panting, his face glistening with her arousal, his bruised balls throbbing but his grin wide and unrepentant. “Told you,” he rasped, voice wrecked, “pain’s just foreplay.” Nesta licked his cum off her lips, her eyes glinting with dark promise, already plotting the next round.
Cassian wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, still grinning, his bruised balls aching in the best way as he shifted on the bed. Nesta sprawled before him, her face streaked with his cum, her pussy glistening from his tongue and her own release. She was panting, eyes half-lidded, but that fire in her still burned—he could see it, feel it. He wasn’t done with her yet. “My turn,” he growled, voice rough with need, and grabbed her hips, flipping her onto her stomach with a swift, brutal yank. She yelped, but it melted into a moan as he hauled her ass up, spreading her thighs wide.
His twelve-inch cock, still hard and dripping, pressed against her entrance, the tip nudging her soaked folds. “You ready, Nes?” he rasped, not waiting for an answer—he thrust in, hard and deep, burying himself to the hilt in one savage stroke. Nesta screamed, her hands clawing at the sheets, her pussy stretching around him, tight and hot and perfect. Cassian didn’t hold back—he fucked her like a god, relentless, his hips slamming into her with a force that shook the bed, his balls—purple and swollen—slapping against her clit with every thrust.
Nesta’s moans turned to cries, uncontrollable and wild, her voice breaking as she chanted his name—“Cassian! Fuck—Cassian!”—tears spilling down her cheeks from the sheer, overwhelming pleasure. He pounded into her, his hands gripping her hips hard enough to bruise, angling himself to hit that spot inside her that made her sob. Her first orgasm hit fast, her pussy clamping down on him like a vice, milking his cock as she screamed, her body shaking. Cassian didn’t slow—didn’t even pause—fucking her through it, driving her straight into the next one.
“Gods—Cass—please—” she wailed, tears streaming, her face a mess of cum and ecstasy as her second climax tore through her. Her legs trembled, threatening to give out, but Cassian held her up, his thrusts turning feral, the wet, filthy sound of him pounding her filling the room. Her pierced nipples scraped the sheets, her ass bouncing with every brutal slam, and she came again—third time—her scream hoarse, her pussy gushing around him, soaking his thighs as she shattered completely. “Cassian!” she sobbed, voice raw, body quaking, pleasure so intense it bordered on pain.
Cassian’s own release built, his balls tightening despite their battering, his cock throbbing inside her. “Fuck, Nes—gonna come—” he grunted, slamming into her one last time, burying himself deep as he erupted. Thick, hot spurts of cum flooded her, painting her insides, spilling out around his cock as he roared her name, his hips jerking with every pulse. Nesta whimpered, oversensitive and wrecked, and then—like Azriel—she went limp, passing out cold from the pleasure, her body slumping into the bed, still twitching with aftershocks.
Cassian pulled out slowly, his cock slick with their combined release, and sat back on his heels, chest heaving. He looked at them—Nesta, sprawled face-down, ass red and pussy dripping, and Azriel, still out on the floor, cum pooled beneath him. Pride swelled in his chest, hot and fierce. He’d done this—fucked them both into oblivion, given them life-altering pleasure that left them broken and blissful. He was the cause, the goddamn architect of their ruin, and he glowed with it, a grin splitting his face.
“This is nice,” he muttered to himself, voice rough with satisfaction. “We should do it again.” A thought sparked, wild and filthy—maybe invite Rhys next time. Him, Azriel, and Rhys, all at once, taking Nesta apart. He laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that bounced off the walls. The three of them together might actually kill her—those cocks, that stamina—but fuck, she’d die happy, screaming their names into the void. Cassian flopped back onto the bed beside Nesta, still chuckling, already dreaming of the chaos they’d unleash next time.