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Chapter Text

Nesta’s groan sounded throughout the entire sitting room as she fell back into her chair. “Not even a boiling-hot bath could fix this, ” she gestured up and down her body, the action itself making her wince. “You absolute sadists. ”

“Nobody said training would be fun,” Azriel said absentmindedly across from her, leafing through some report or other. He and Cassian had already bathed and changed into simple, comfortable clothes in lieu of their fighting leathers, signaling to Nesta that they were in no hurry to get back to work.

An assortment of breakfast meats, eggs and fruit appeared on the low table in front of her. “Eat,” Cassian said, sprawled on the couch, a plate-full already balancing on his chest as he struggled not to get crumbs everywhere. “You did really well today.”

The late morning sun was streaming in through the windows, bits of illuminated dust swirling in the air. Nesta gazed at nothing in particular for a good while, trying to gather her strength, trying to will her body to soothe the overwhelming ache she felt everywhere. Quite literally everywhere, even muscles she had no idea could hurt were screaming at her.

Nesta attempted to sit up and reach for the food, unsuccessfully. “Can’t,” she grumbled, her head falling back. “Can’t move.” 

A few moments later a bit of cured ham floated in front of her face, a little shadow carrying it and bobbing the bit of meat right above her lips. Nesta shot Azriel what she hoped was a death-glare, but let her mouth fall open, the cheeky shadow depositing it gently on her tongue. “Very funny,” she said, still chewing, earning a crooked, self-satisfied smirk from Azriel. 

The trio sat in silence for some time, Azriel’s shadows seemingly happy to be given the task of feeding Nesta, darting to and from the table with bits of bread and meat, then moving on to crunchy grapes, popping them into her mouth patiently, one by one. 

***

Cassian watched it all unfold before him - Nesta, still limp as a ragdoll, slowly chewing as playful little shadows danced around her, picking and choosing. He even saw them assembling little bite-sized sandwiches, going so far as to slice off the crusts. Doting. 

Meanwhile Azriel sipped on his tea, scribbled notes on reports that vanished when he was done with them, and snuck a glance towards Nesta every now and then. For all the world the Shadowsinger looked... lazy, relaxed. Bored, almost. But Cassian knew him, and while Nesta was content to be sprawled in her chair, being spoon-fed breakfast without a care in the world, the casual display of affection all but took his breath away. And as he stared at them, so idle, so comfortable in each other’s presence, an idea began to form.

Cassian discarded his plate and finally stood from the couch, strolling to the back of Nesta’s chair. He gently placed his hands on either side of her neck and carefully started kneading the tense muscles there, eliciting a deep groan from her. 

“Az?” Cassian said over Nesta’s head, slowly working his way across her shoulders.  

“Hmm?”

“Wouldn’t you say Nesta’s been making a lot of progress lately with her training?” 

Azriel nodded, still not looking up from the papers in his hands, completely missing the beginning of a mischievous grin on Cassian’s face. 

“And wouldn’t you say she deserves a treat for how well she’s doing?” 

A cheerful shadow darted across the table, offering up a bite-sized chocolate cake with a gooey middle. Nesta, eyes shut, paid no mind to it, wholly concentrated on the knots being worked out in her neck. But Cassian chuckled, plucking it out of the air and setting it aside, and actually felt bad for a moment as the shadow slinked back to Azriel, apparently disheartened by the small rejection. “Not quite what I had in mind, friend.” 

Azriel finally looked up, cocking his head to the side in silent question. 

“How about we give poor, tired, brave, hard-working little Nesta here…” Cassian droned casually, already losing Azriel’s attention with his never-ending epithets. “...The ol’ ‘Double Vision ?’” he finished, voice lowered.

Azriel’s eyes snapped to him and his mouth fell open ever so slightly, the most emotion he’d let himself show. 

“The what?” Nesta murmured, her head dropping to the side to give Cassian better access.

“It’s a routine we developed over the years, to help sore muscles,” Cassian’s voice was barely above a whisper, no doubt to lull Nesta into not asking any more questions, but his eyes were locked on his brother – wide-eyed, assessing. 

“That would be nice,” she sighed.

Azriel dropped his own voice to a barely-audible rumble. “That’s usually reserved for –”

“For other kinds of training, I know,” Cassian cut him off with a roguish wink. “But look at her.”

As if he’d been waiting for permission, Azriel’s eyes finally settled on Nesta for longer than a glance. One leg slung and dangling off the side of the chair, her back in odd angles to get Cassian’s hands to continue their work, Nesta’s expressions ranged from pain to relief in a matter of seconds, making small noises in the back of her throat. 

Az stared, and stared some more. Cassian simply waited, dragging up memory after memory of late nights with his brother-in-arms, of females they shared, the games they would play, the careful routine they honed over centuries to settle and soothe their guest after particularly rough nights. His brother’s tastes were far from secret, and although they weren’t always a match in that way, Cassian always felt they could play off each other to devastatingly good results. Where Az was the embodiment of elegant malice – he was rough, primal delight. Feeding off each other, moving in question and answer, pinning females with their attention – sometimes even turning it on each other… 

With Nesta blissfully unaware, Cassian let everything hang in the air between them – a gentle offer only Az would understand, and one – he tried to silently convey – he could refuse, no questions asked. 

Azriel took a long breath. Cassian could tell he was hesitating not from lack of want, but perhaps because of the potential implications. 

The mating bond had been well and truly sealed in every possible way, and after many months of late-night musings about wants and needs and fantasies, the idea to invite Azriel to their bed had come up… more than once or twice, if Cassian was being honest. And Nesta knew of their history, perhaps why she seemed so enticed by the idea, but they had never wanted to engineer it. “If it happens, it happens,” Nesta shrugged during one of those long conversations. “I don’t want it to be a thing. ”

Nesta seemed to notice the silence that had dragged on and slowly cracked one eye open, just for a second. “What do you mean by ‘routine?’”

“It’s just a massage, love,” Cassian answered softly, never taking eyes off Azriel, pouring all the subtext he could muster into the word “just.”

No big deal, we can see where it takes us. If you want to.

Azriel finally seemed to relax a bit, letting his shoulders drop. He nodded once, and without moving his arms, quickly pointed a finger at Nesta, raising a brow. 

Cassian simply nodded back, smirking. Oh yes, she definitely wants to.

“Indeed, I think you need one.” Azriel stood, his shadows skittering every which way. “Otherwise you’ll be of no use today, it seems.” 

Nesta only threw up her middle finger in his general direction, head still dropped to the side, completely oblivious to the subtle shift in the room. 

Azriel set about procuring a small dining table, almost perfectly Nesta-sized, and by the time he started arranging duvets and sheets and towels on top of it, Cassian had drawn the curtains and retrieved a basket of fragrant oils from the bathing room. Nesta’s eyebrows furrowed, warily surveying the sudden flurry of movement. Before she could ask, Cassian scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the makeshift massage table, setting her down at the edge of it. 

Azriel made himself busy at the other end of the room, finding incense and taking his time arranging it throughout the space as Cassian made quick work of Nesta’s simple gray gown, the question already on her lips as he manoeuvred her out of it, leaving her in only her underwear. 

Do you trust me? Cassian asked down their bond before she could utter a word. 

Yes. Her mental voice was a tad breathless.

And do you trust Az? 

Of course.

“Then lie down, and relax.”

Chapter Text

Nesta found herself lying face down on a table in the middle of their shared sitting room, a rolled up towel propping her face up so she could breathe, and felt Cassian drape a warm blanket over her middle, tucking it at her sides after methodically placing her arms on top, exposed. 

She heard soft footsteps coming from the other end of the room, a waft of fragrant smoke following as they stopped on her right. Cassian, on her left, ran a gentle, broad hand from the top of her neck all the way to the small of her back, over the blanket. 

He stepped in front of her and laid his hands back to where they had been before - at the nape of her neck, gently rolling out the muscles there towards her shoulders. 

Nesta couldn’t see or hear Azriel, but she felt something . Hands hovering over her, traveling slowly above her arms, her back, down to her legs, her feet, back up again - not touching, not really, save for the occasional whisper of warmth against where her skin was exposed. 

After long minutes, she felt those hands drop away, and Azriel murmured something above her head. 

“Mmmhm, thought so,” Cassian replied, moving back to his spot at her left. He pulled back the blanket, exposing her back, folding it so it was only covering her rear now. Nesta felt herself blush. 

“Now, sweetheart. Don’t forget to breathe.”

“Wh–”

Before she could say anything, two sets of strong, warm, oil-slicked hands descended on her, sweeping up from the small of her back in one coordinated motion, weaving in towards her spine, then out across, towards her shoulders, down her arms. All she could do was to stop the pathetic noise she felt bubbling up as the air whooshed out of her. 

They continued their sweep, perfectly mirrored on either side of her, their palms dragging over her sore muscles with insistent pressure. 

“Wings first,” Azriel’s voice was barely above a whisper - warmer and softer than Nesta could recall hearing it in a long time.  

Minutes or hours or days later, their arcs across her slowed, both sets of hands tenderly moving her arms to bend at an angle, those roving hands settling on the top of her back with maddening symmetry. As one, she felt fingers slowly finding purchase under her shoulder blades, digging into the tender flesh and — pulling .  

Nesta let out a startled yelp and not a second later Cassian’s face was at her ear, nuzzling it, but not letting his hands move an inch. “Breathe for me, Nesta.”

She managed an inhale, and as she let the air out, fingers dug more under her shoulder blades, pulling ever so slightly up and away from her. “That’s right, again.” Cassian instructed, his breath still tickling the back of her neck. 

In, out. In, out. With every bit of air escaping, she could feel their fingers working into her, until she could have sworn they could tickle the inside of her ribcage. But with each pass the sharp, unfamiliar feeling eased, and she felt the tightness in her upper back loosening. “Very good, sweetheart. Just focus on that. We’ll take care of you.”

Nesta’s breathing hitched, something fluttering in her stomach. Azriel chuckled, running his hands down her arms as he gently placed them back at her sides. Following his lead, Cassian took a half step, moving his attention to the small of her back. 

Two knuckles on either side of her spine had her shivering involuntarily as they made their way up, up, up, the hands on her right flanking them, sprawled out and bumping over each rib on the way. Up, down, up, down. 

Two thumbs pressed strategically at either side of her tail bone, drawing a muffled, halfhearted bark from Nesta. She wanted to chastise those roving hands for not giving her any warning, but she quickly realized they were making their way down. 

Nesta felt the blanket settle on her back again, just as the other end of it was smoothly pulled up, enough to expose the length of her legs. 

She hadn’t heard either of them move, and a curious finger dragged up the center of the bottom of her foot, earning a kick and a whimper from her. 

“Ticklish, Nes?” Cassians’s voice was still to her side, infinitely amused.  

Azriel, then. 

Nesta bore down as her other foot got the same treatment, this time in a long, meandering line, tracing the curve of sensitive skin. When she didn’t react, gentle knuckles ran down the length of her foot, as if smoothing out the unexpected offense. “Mmm, good girl. You catch on quick.”

Before the words could land, the twin sweep resumed, traveling along her muscles, the tension melting away with each long, luxurious pass along her legs. Each time they got closer to the blanket resting on her hips, they retreated. Each time they ventured up and towards her inner thigh, they dragged themselves away to an outer muscle. 

Azriel started humming some soft melody she couldn’t place. Cassian, across from him, was silent, but she could feel the gentle sway of his body to the tune, the pace they set with their hands never faltering, never breaking their clever waltz across her body. 

And if it wasn’t for the few inquisitive passes of light fingers along the back of her knees, Nesta might have drifted off completely. 

Pleased with their work, Azriel drifted up to stand over her head.

“Turn over to your back, Nesta,” Cassian hummed. 

Nesta shifted, and just as she looked up to blink at the dim, but still far too light room, she saw Azriel’s hazel eyes glimmer as he placed a blindfold on her - gentle, polite fingers lifting her head to tuck the ribbons under her hair. He didn’t tie it, just laid her head back on a small pillow instead of the towel that was there before. 

“You really have this down to an art,” Nesta offered weakly. 

“Oh, you have no idea,” Azriel whispered, and something in his voice–

Nesta didn’t have the time to consider it as the two pairs of dreadful, wonderful, pain-stakingly effective hands continued their journey along her arms, the only exposed flesh left, resting at her sides above the blanket. 

They pulled and kneaded and bent them to their will, working out the tightness in her palms, wrists, forearms. 

Somewhere in the back of her head, a thought dragged Nesta out of her daze. “So, this is the double ,” she pointed a limp finger at them to either side of her,  “But you’ve got me blindfolded, so what’s the ‘vision’ ?”

“Just you wait, dearest,” Cassian’s answer came with a rustle of wings. “You’ll see. Or, rather…” his voice moved once again back to the top of her head, the other set of hands disappearing entirely. Cassian nestled his fingers at her nape and started slowly dragging them through her hair, eliciting a soft moan from Nesta. 

And as his fingers worked their way through her scalp, she felt the room getting warmer. 

No, not the room, she realized with a start. 

Shadows . Slowly slithering up her feet, across her body, up to her face. The aroma of the massage oils dissipated, replaced by something so distinctly Azriel that Nesta had to take a few deep breaths just to take it in. She knew his scent, had gotten wafts of it in the training ring, in the quiet mornings as they ate together, in the hallway as a soft breeze carried them out of his room, but never like this . Night-chilled mist and cedar enveloped her in a pleasant haze, warming her shoulders, hips, and cooling in all the places where she still felt strain.

Everything melted away and it wasn’t long before Nesta felt completely weightless, swirling shadows caressing every single dip and curve of her, tiny, faraway whispers dancing at her ears, Azriel’s scent burrowing in so deep she could feel it. Somewhere in her mind she could see a faint cobalt light, shining out of nowhere and into nothing. She could hear the twang of a blade being unsheathed. Then, the sights and sounds twisted – revealing sweat and sun and wings and quick breaths, fists flying and fierce growls escaping through wicked grins. As fast as she could still herself enough to appreciate the sight, they shifted again – the sweat now gleamed in the moonlight, wings sprawled across bed sheets, hands – those sinful, devastating hands – on tattooed, sculpted chests, scars on fingers peeking through long, unbound hair, hair she knew, hair she’d run her own hands through a thousand times.

Slowly, smoothly, a familiar scent entwined, like it had been there all along, waiting, looking, appreciating . Making its way up her senses like crackling embers drifting around her. The dazzling phantom touch of a snow-kissed wind snapped something in her, and Nesta finally opened her eyes, heart beating wildly. 

The sun was well on its way to setting, casting long shadows between curtains across the room. 

How long has it been?

Wh– when did they take the blindfold off? 

Nesta craned her neck to look forward, but all she could see was swirling night clinging to her body. 

“Take your time, Nes,” Cassian’s low voice sounded behind her. Not above her – behind her. 

“I–”

Her words were cut off as some of those shadows whisked away and a set of hazel eyes came into view, directly in front of her. As the realization hit her, she began a slow descent back onto the table. First her feet, guided gently by Azriel, then her hands, then the rest of her - Nesta’s head softly landing back in Cassian’s waiting hands. 

Her body was still fully obscured by the ebb and flow of darkness surrounding her. 

Cassian resumed running his fingers through her hair, as if to ground her not only physically. 

“What was that.”

Nesta saw Cassian smirk above her. “That was the ‘vision.’”  

The two Illyrians stood at either end of her in silence as Nesta tried – and failed – to spool herself back into her own body, images of teeth and wings and glistening chests still flashing in her mind. 

Cassian was now softly stroking her hair while Azriel’s hands were planted on the top of her feet with firm pressure, the shadows lazily floating away from Nesta and back around him in small drifts, section by section, seemingly at random. A tendril here, a wisp there.

As more and more of them retreated across her and back into Azriel himself, Nesta realized that just like the blindfold, the blanket had evidently winked out of existence as well. 

Azriel’s gaze was carefully fixed straight ahead of him, a smug smile playing on his lips.  

Nesta found that she wasn’t at all concerned that she was all but bare in front of him. In fact, as the last of the shadows trailed, she spied the telltale flare of nostrils as her own scent no doubt filled the room. 

She peeked up at Cassian who was already grinning with feral amusement. 

Chapter Text

As if afraid to break the spell, Nesta didn’t dare speak. She was sprawled there on the makeshift massage table only in a thin scrap of lacy underwear, her mate behind her and Azriel at her feet – the deep rise and fall of his chest the only indicator that he might not be as composed as his deliberately blank features might lead one to believe. 

Cassian’s face appeared above hers, dragging her stare up. “Feeling better, sweetheart?”

“Mhmmm,” Nesta managed. 

“No longer sore, no more tightness in your muscles?”

Nesta shook her head no. 

“And what would you like to do now?” Cassian straightened. “Would you like to… go to sleep, perhaps?” he gestured vaguely to the direction of their bedroom. 

“No,” Nesta answered, breathless. 

Ever the jester, Cassian made a show of considering his next offer, rubbing his thumb and finger along his jaw. “Would you like to… eat?”

No.

“Would you like to…” He lowered himself to her ear, his voice barely above a whisper, “show dear Azriel here all the other places where you’re so deliciously tight?” 

Nesta couldn’t help but whip her head to look at the Shadowsinger, his eyes now darker, his mouth slightly agape. 

She nodded.

Azriel took a steadying breath. “You’ve discussed this?” he gestured between the three of them – perhaps knowing the answer, but needing the confirmation anyway. 

“We have,” Cassian answered. 

“And you’re fine with…” Azriel’s gaze landed on Nesta, but Cassian knew he was talking to him. “sharing?”

“It would be an honor and relief, brother. She can be quite the handful sometimes,” Cassian teased, earning a scowl from her. 

“And you, Nesta. Are you familiar with my preferences ?”

She nodded again.

Azriel drifted closer, pinning her with a stare so intense all she could do was to try and not squirm. “If we’re to do this, I’m going to need you to use your words, Nesta,” a shadow made its way to her mouth, delicately tracing the contour of her lips. “What are you thinking?”

Nesta released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, making them vanish. “I’m thinking that I want to see what else those clever little shadows can do.” 

Azriel’s answering smile was nothing short of ferocious. “Very well,” he stepped even closer. “Anything off-limits?”

“Not that I know of, yet.”

Cassian stroked her hair. “We’re still exploring, aren’t we, sweetheart?” Nesta leaned into his soft touch, never taking eyes off Azriel.

“And you? Any changes?” Azriel looked up to Cassian, face open, frank. 

Cassian simply leaned over the table, over Nesta, dragging his hand out of her hair and into Azriel’s, and kissed him. A gentle, soothing display, no doubt meant to settle any doubts he might be grappling with. It seemed to snap Azriel’s careful restraint, but he still managed to pull away, panting slightly, looking back at Nesta. “Do you know the color system?” 

“Green means keep going, yellow – caution, and red is stop.” 

“Good girl,” Azriel purred, and glanced at Cassian. “You’ve taught her well.”

A wordless conversation passed between the Illyrians. They took up places at Nesta’s sides again and Cassian pulled her up by her upper arms, twisting her and moving her legs over the side of the table so she was sitting against his chest. 

Azriel gently pushed her knees apart, standing between her legs, and they were face-to-face. Nesta didn’t dare look away from his curious, appraising gaze. Head tilting slightly to the side, she noted that he was chewing the inside of his cheek as he looked at her. Azriel lifted a scarred hand and began tracing her collarbone with a light touch. Then her shoulder. Then he dropped it, drawing a finger from the side of her ribcage, under and around her breast, circling a few times in the middle of her chest and down, down, to where he barely made it to the top of her underwear before pulling away. 

Nesta willed her breathing to be steady but she felt herself pushing back into Cassian’s chest, earning a gruff chuckle. His arms were resting at her sides, his warm, even breath tickling her ear as he patiently watched it all unfold before him.

With Cassian it was always hard and fast and rough, like being thrown into a whirlwind of teeth and wings, they would howl and claw and devour each other, but this… Nesta felt her pulse quicken as she found herself in front of another kind of beast entirely. Azriel took his time, she realized. He thought, and planned, and considered. The infamous Night Court Spymaster at work.

“Have you recovered?” he asked, settling his hands on her thighs, giving them a squeeze as if to check. 

“Yes.”

Azriel gave her another quick once-over and finally leaned in, making her legs spread apart further. He took her chin, raising it ever so slightly, and tenderly brushed his lips against Nesta’s. Azriel’s scent hit her again in full force and she immediately dropped her mouth open, pushing off Cassian to get closer to him, touch him. The quick movement made him pull away with a tsk.

Azriel moved her head to the side and positioned himself at her ear. “I wouldn’t have thought you’d be so restless after our treat ,” he purred. “Tell me, Nesta,” the hand that had been on her thigh traveled up to her waist, grabbing her to pull her closer. “What did you see in your little shadowscape that got you so riled up?”

Nesta felt Cassian stir behind her. 

She cleared her throat. “I saw… your siphon, and I heard the sound of a blade... Truth-Teller,” Nesta confessed, closing her eyes, replaying the visions. “And your scent was so strong around me that I could feel it, under my skin, in my bones,” Azriel hummed in her ear, satisfied, urging her along. “And then I saw you, and Cassian.”

“And what were we doing?” Azriel nipped at her earlobe. 

“You were sparring.” 

Cassian laughed this time, full and joyous, startling Nesta. Azriel shot him an annoyed look. 

“And?”

“And then you weren’t. Then, you were in bed,” she said, letting her head fall to the side on Cassian’s shoulder, giving Azriel room to move down her neck. “I saw wings and sweat and your hand in Cassian’s hair.”

Azriel leaned back, a wicked grin pulling at his lips. “Like this?” he reached over her to run his fingers through Cassian’s hair, and Nesta craned her head to look.

“Yes, just like that,” she whispered, feeling a sudden flicker of warmth in her core. 

“Interesting,” Azriel said, fingers dragging along Cassian’s scalp, making his eyes roll back slightly. “Is that what you want, Nesta? A show?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe,” Azriel echoed, laughing quietly. “Well then,” shadows started coiling around her, snapping up to her wrists and down to her ankles, one hovering around her neck and along her face. “Maybe you’ll get one.”

He grabbed Nesta’s chin to turn her back. “But as intrigued as I am by what you’ve conjured up for me and my dear brother,” Azriel looked over her shoulder, eyes sparkling. “And as sure as I am that he’s eager to please,” Nesta saw a single tendril of shadow dart behind her and heard Cassian let out a throaty whine. Azriel’s eyes snapped back to her. “I also quite enjoyed the sight of you writhing in my shadows, and I’m not ready to move on just yet.”

As if on cue, they engulfed Nesta and she once again found herself in a dark, weightless bliss.

Chapter Text

“Cassian.”

“Yes, beloved?”

Azriel scowled at the teasing pet name, but decided to let it go. This time. “You — on the bed. Now.”

Cassian took off his shirt and climbed over the sheets. “Mmm, they smell like you,” he sat up against the pillows, waiting for further instructions. “What would you like me to do, Az?” he purred.

“You’re going to sit back, be quiet, and watch me play with your mate.” 

“Works for me,” Cassian linked his fingers behind his head and crossed his legs in front of him, wings spread wide. The picture of cocky bravado. “May I–”

“I said,” Azriel glared at him, the only thing he could do, as he was holding Nesta in his arms, focusing all of his shadows on obscuring her from all sight and sound. “You’re going to be quiet.” 

Cassian mimed locking his lips and throwing away the key. 

“Gods, you’re insufferable. Good to know that hasn’t changed.”

“And you? That massage was certainly more… tender than I remember it being back in the day. Maybe, perhaps, you’ve gotten softer around the edges? Or is it Nesta, does she bring it out in you? You sure seem to want to talk to her a whole lot,” Cassian taunted, eyes narrowed, a devilish smirk playing on his lips. “Do you just want to snuggle instead, whisper sweet nothings in her ear as I watch? Perhaps you’ve changed your tactics. You got any more new moves?”    

“Keep mouthing off, Cass,” Azriel looked down at Nesta in his arms, as if he alone could see her through the swirling mass of shadow. There was nothing soft in his smile. “And you’ll get to witness all of my new moves in action.”

Cassian snarled, seemingly remembering who’s bedroom they were in. Who was currently in Azriel’s grip, completely at his mercy.

Cassian trusted Azriel with his life, with Nesta’s life. He knew Az would never try to steal away his mate, not through sex or cunning shadows or crustless sandwiches, but that sudden pang of jealousy stoked a fire in his veins that had him sitting up on his knees, arms braced in front of him. 

“Yeah, I thought so,” Azriel winked, basking in that bit of temper Cassian let slip. “Relax, you brute. I know my role here,” he meandered to the foot of his bed and gently set Nesta down along the edge of it. She was barely touching the sheets, her arms and legs limp, head slightly dipping back - the rest of her body was hovering just off the bed, still enveloped in darkness head to toe. “May we continue?” 

Cassian nodded, nostrils still flaring slightly.

Az cocked his head, considering him. “Color?”

“Green, you bastard,” he hissed. 

Azriel’s answering smile sent a chill down Cassian's spine. “And just for that, I’m going to make it an absolute nightmare for you, brother.”

***

Somewhere far away Nesta heard two voices, but she couldn’t make out what they were talking about, or where she was in space or time.

In some lucid corner of Nesta’s mind, deep in her subconscious, she knew Cassian and Azriel were nearby. That was enough for her to breathe in the endless dark, content to float neither here nor there; a pleasant, cool tingle along her spine the only reminder that she did, in fact, possess a body. 

Like a hazy summer dawn, the darkness lightened unhurriedly.  

“Hello again, Nesta.”

She slowly opened her eyes and all she could see was an ornate ceiling and the tops of four posters, connected by unadorned wooden rails. Nesta looked to her right, where the voice had come from, and found Azriel peering down at her, his elegant features cast in flickering candlelight. “Did you have any more lewd dreams?” he winked. 

“Where’s Cass?”

“Right over there,” Azriel nodded, and Nesta followed his gaze to see Cassian kneeling at her side, eyes wild and panting slightly. “He can’t talk to you right now, he’s too busy contemplating all the things I’ll be doing with you.” 

Nesta realized she was floating above a bed. Azriel’s bed. Unlike the tender retreat of his shadows, the reality of the situation slammed into her faster than she could wrap her head around it. And just as quickly, she felt a throb begin between her legs.

Azriel leaned down next to her ear as his eyes followed a few shadows slithering away from her neck. “Now, pet,” he whispered. “You mentioned Truth-Teller. Is that something you would be interested in exploring?” 

Nesta’s heartbeat quickened. Was she interested? She hadn’t really thought about it. Up until Azriel had asked her what she’d seen in her shadowscape , as he called it, Nesta was convinced that he and Cassian had somehow sent those images to her through some clever combination of the mating bond and whatever else magic was at play. But then he’d said Nesta “conjured” those images herself, so of all-things-related-to-Azriel to think about, why had she been drawn to Truth-Teller? 

She didn’t let herself dwell on it for too long and went with her gut. “Yes.”

Azriel let out a content hum and Nesta felt a hand under her, at the small of her back, gently lifting her to position her higher. In mid-air, she kept forgetting. Azriel’s shadows were keeping her floating above the bed, swirling around her, clinging to her skin everywhere aside her face. Nesta lifted an arm just to see if she could – they didn’t restrain her, every movement seemingly even easier. When she relaxed her muscles her arm stayed where it had been, as if caught by a phantom pillow. 

Nesta saw Azriel remove Truth-Teller from his hip, scabbard and all. Slowly, with deliberate movement, staring at her the entire time, he placed it atop her stomach, folding her hands over it. Nesta gripped it, feeling the leather, the weight of it against her setting her heartbeat into an uneven rhythm. Azriel stepped behind her, propping her head gently against his chest. “I won’t hurt you.” He slowly unsheathed the knife, leaving the scabbard in Nesta’s grip. Azriel held it before her face, slowly rotating it, his siphons casting a cobalt light reflecting along the edge. He was letting her examine it, she realized. “We’ll just play a little. Alright?”

Nesta caught herself nodding against his chest, and quickly remembered to speak. “Alright.”

“Good girl.”

The shadows slowly unfurled, leaving Nesta’s front exposed again. She heard Cassian’s sharp inhale to her side but couldn’t drag her eyes away from the knife in front of her. It shifted in Azriel’s hand and she followed the tip of the blade as it moved closer to her face and past her line of sight to move a lock of hair that had fallen over her eyes. The shadows had gathered under her, caressing her back and licking up her sides and nape of her neck with insistent heat. 

Azriel’s arm drifted across her chest, barely grazing her, and at the first light touch of Truth-Teller against her cheek, every single thought Nesta might have had stilled. She distantly felt herself dropping her hands and the scabbard rolling off her stomach, but she didn’t hear it land on the bed as the shadows rose up to pin her hands to her sides. 

The cool blade dragged steadily down her cheek, and with every even breath Azriel’s chest rose and fell, making Nesta’s head bob, but the knife’s pressure against her skin never wavered.

As the tip of the blade traveled down and across her jawline, it lifted. Azriel then gently pressed the hilt into her chest, above her right breast, palm splaying out. Nesta felt his left hand between her shoulder blades, pushing her up, the gentle pressure making her feel every single facet of the obsidian hilt against her skin. 

Azriel angled the dagger to softly scrape the edge along the top of her breast, down to her peaked nipple. Nesta whimpered, any residual fear replaced with an ever-rising need for more. She felt the slickness gathering in her panties, the lace immediately becoming offensive against her scorching skin. 

A dark chuckle sounded above her and Nesta’s head fell back as Azriel moved away, the solid weight of Truth-Teller on her chest swiftly gone. If her eyes hadn’t been open she would have thought she was in free-fall, the lack of touch aside from the writhing warmth below her suddenly jarring. 

“So responsive, your mate,” Azriel spoke towards the head of the bed, and Nesta finally managed to turn to look at Cassian. He was still kneeling, his hand fisted around the bulge of his pants, wide-eyed and tense with barely-there restraint. 

“That she is,” he ground out, and his eyes immediately snapped to Azriel, as if realizing his mistake. “I’m so–”

Azriel flicked a wrist and a shadow darted into Cassian’s gaping mouth, cutting off his half-hearted apology. “I thought I told you to be quiet,” Az looked pointedly at the hand on his crotch and Cassian begrudgingly set it at his side. “You know what happens when you don’t obey orders, General.”

While the mating frenzy had died down somewhat and Nesta knew Cassian enjoyed taking it slow occasionally, his version of “slow” was nothing compared to this — this was absolute, horrifying, delicious torture. Azriel had barely touched her and already Nesta felt the tension building in her spine. The sight of Cassian gagged, staring at her like he might beg Azriel on his hands and knees for a single taste of her if he could only speak… 

Nesta’s thoughts were interrupted by the flash of blue light bouncing off Truth-Teller, and before she knew it, the tip of it landed at the hollow of her throat. Azriel stood above her at her right, face unreadable save the slight glint in his eye. She could have sworn the corner of his lip twitched. Trouble. She was in trouble. 

Azriel dragged the blade down her middle, slowly, with enough pressure that Nesta could feel the carefully-honed sharpness, but not enough to break skin. The knife left a delicate pink line in its wake, stopping at her sternum as if to consider its next move. It veered off to trace a figure of eight around her breasts, making them firm up and her skin pebble at the maddening touch. She felt more than saw Azriel stiffen, the first real sign that his resolve might be starting to crack. 

He moved slowly along her body, dragging Truth-Teller straight down her stomach, around her belly button, and then down to the top of her underwear, and just like his fingers last time, the touch vanished. Azriel turned around the bedpost, grabbed Nesta by the feet, and pulled her towards him, pushing her legs apart so he could position himself between them. He looped his arms beneath her, Truth-Teller in his right hand, now pushed against her side, and the shadows exploded out and up around her like flames, sending her falling into the cool sheets with a startled cry.  

That left Nesta sprawled on the bed, knees to either side of Azriel’s head, hooked over his shoulders, hazel eyes blazing up at her in a way that made her breath catch in her throat. 

Azriel stared at Nesta for long seconds before lowering his head and, never breaking eye contact, pressed his tongue firmly right to her clit, over her underwear. A shockwave pulsed through her, making her arch into the touch. She felt frantic movement at her side as Cassian let out a low, guttural growl. 

“So impatient, the both of you,” Azriel murmured, his breath hot against her core. “Very well, I suppose I can be kind,” he mused, and brought up his right hand from underneath Nesta, leaning back slightly.

Azriel slid Truth-Teller between her hip and her panties and cut the lace in one quick upward swipe. He moved to do the same to the other side, and before the fabric could fall away completely, he caught it on the tip of the knife. Azriel pulled at the lace with his free hand, and used the blade as a slingshot, the soaked scrap of underwear landing square on Cassian’s chest. 

Nesta hadn’t seen when Cassian managed to take his pants off but there he was now, lying back naked with his hand gripped firm around his stiff cock, the shadow still balled up in his mouth, panting through his nose and staring down at his chest as if the dainty bit of cut-up lace might very well burn a hole clean through him. 

She had all but a second to marvel at the sight before Azriel’s tongue slid into her.

Chapter Text

Nesta could hardly hear anything else in the room over her own panting. 

The hours of teasing came to a head with Azriel nestled between her legs, working her over with long, unhurried, languid swipes of his tongue up and down her sex, his hands kneading the softness of her backside, dragging his nails down her hips, never letting up on his deliberate pace.

He’d curl his tongue into her once, twice, three times, only to lick his way back up to her already swollen, aching bundle of nerves. He’d suck and nip at it, circling his tongue in a steady, deviant dance. Nesta couldn’t count the minutes if she tried, but it couldn’t have been more than a few before she was arching off the bed, legs flexed in chase of that heavenly drop into sure bliss.  

Nesta reached out to grab the mass of dark curls between her legs, just to have something to hold on to. She felt Azriel seize her wrist and made to let go, but instead his hand covered hers and squeezed, making her grab on even tighter. It sent her careening towards the edge, and when one final, desperate grasp at Azriel’s hair made him groan, the vibration of it traveled straight to the bottom of her spine and took her release with it, exploding out in wave after wave across her entire body as he devoured her through it.  

Before Nesta could catch her breath, Azriel stood at the edge of the bed and ran a thumb along his bottom lip, gathering her slickness and sucking it off with an obscene pop . He leisurely started unbuttoning his shirt, his canines glinting beneath a wicked grin. “I really don’t know how you get anything else done, brother. She tastes… Mmm.” Azriel trailed off as he discarded his shirt on the floor and started working on the front of his pants. Nesta’s mouth went dry when she saw what he’d been hiding in them this entire time. All she could do was blink, her gaze darting between Azriel’s cock and her mate’s face, trying to gather any semblance of a thought as he stood there, seemingly considering his next move. Azriel turned his face to Cassian, his lips now set in a smirk that could only promise utter devastation. 

“...She tastes like you should spend the rest of your life on your hands and knees, begging to die with your head between her thighs.”

Something akin to a sob escaped Cassian’s throat. I know, you cruel bastard – his eyes seemed to say.

“Come here, Nesta,” Azriel beckoned, and she scrambled to the edge of the bed. For the first time in gods knew how long she tried to stand up, and her knees immediately buckled, sending her stumbling directly into his chest. 

“There, there,” Azriel scooped her up in one smooth motion, and walked a few steps backwards to sit on an armchair facing the bed, landing her straight in his lap. Nesta saw his wings spread lazily to the sides as he began maneuvering her until her back was flush with his chest, legs spread out in front of them both. 

With one quick tug up by her hips, Nesta found herself sitting on Azriel’s stomach, the whole length of him now resting between her legs. She tried to take a steadying breath, but when her own stomach rose up, the tip of his cock gently brushed against her pelvis, and she suddenly forgot how to breathe altogether. 

Azriel hooked his chin on Nesta’s shoulder. As shadows gathered around Cassian, Az curled a scarred finger and they snapped to Cassian’s wrists, stretching up to tie themselves to the railing on top of the bed posts. Cass moved with a jolt, and ended up sitting on the edge of the bed with his arms tied up above him.

Facing his mate and his brother in all of his rough, windswept glory – Nesta couldn’t help but think that he was the most handsome male she’d ever laid eyes on. Even tied up, cheeks and chest flushed, submitting wholly to Azriel’s apparently never-ending list of small cruelties… he still looked powerful. Yes, there was power in relinquishing control, in putting his trust into his brother so unquestioningly. Into trusting her . Nesta knew that there wasn’t a thing or person in this or any other reality that Cassian wouldn’t rip apart with his bare hands to protect her from. And for him to sit there, bound, gagged, eyes blazing at the sight of her sprawled on another male… She couldn’t think of anything that could possibly be so fucking hot and equally heartwarming at the same time.

She was pulled from her thoughts by a wandering finger, trailing up her side. “You’re unusually nonverbal today, Nesta. I know why Cass is not running his mouth,” Azriel jerked his chin forward, and if she hadn’t been so lost in her own head and overwhelming lust she might have laughed at the pitiful ‘hey!’ Cassian muffled around his shadow-gag. “But where’s that sharp tongue of yours?”

Something in Nesta finally snapped. “Place me on my knees and I’ll show you precisely where it could be.”

“Ah, there’s my girl,” Azriel nuzzled the side of her neck. “But no, not quite yet,” he ran his hands up her thighs, and one trailed up to cup her breast, while the other settled on his own cock, pressing it up against her core. “Not quite yet.” 

He pumped himself slowly, the knuckle of his thumb rubbing against Nesta’s clit along the way, making her feel flushed and so, so empty. “Azriel…”

He turned his head and caught her in a deep, hard kiss. Azriel’s other hand moved from where it had been circling her nipple and made its way down, sliding a single finger into her and dragging out a deep moan from Nesta. “My name on your lips tastes almost as good as you do.”  

Azriel slid a second finger into her, his length now shoved to the side, rubbing up against the junction between her sex and thigh, and started fucking her in earnest, relishing the little sounds escaping her throat. “Oh, and how you sing for me,” he whispered in Nesta’s ear, his voice a gentle lover’s caress.

Azriel moved his wrist to get a better angle and added a third finger, the base of his palm now rubbing her clit, adding pressure. “Do me a favor, sweetheart, and come for me again.”

It only took a few more well-angled thrusts before Nesta cried out, dropping her head backwards on Azriel’s shoulder. 

Cassian shifted loudly on the edge of the bed, arms straining, his features now positively ravenous. 

“Oh, I forgot you were there,” Azriel taunted and turned back to drag his teeth along Nesta’s neck. “She’s so lovely, Cassian, I might just keep her all to myself. And look at how wet she is…”

Azriel removed his fingers from her and thoroughly covered his cock in Nesta’s release.

Cassian could do nothing but growl – a low, primal noise coming deep from his chest. 

“Do you want a taste, beloved?”

As if for show, Azriel flicked his wrist and the shadow-gag vanished from Cassian’s throat, leaving him panting, open mouthed. 

“Yes, I would like a taste of my mate, Azriel.”

The shadows binding his hands dissipated and Cassian lunged for the armchair, landing straight on his knees before the two of them. When he got close enough, Azriel took Nesta’s leg as if it weighed nothing, and steered it to place her delicate foot on Cassian’s chest, stopping him in his tracks.

And then – silence. Nothing. 

Somewhere at the back of his lust-addled head he heard Azriel’s earlier words echo. 

“You should spend the rest of your life on your hands and knees, begging to die with your head between her thighs."

Azriel wanted him to beg. 

So beg he would. 

“Please.”

“Please what, Lord of Bloodshed, Prince of Bastards? What do you want?”

“I want to taste my mate. Please, Azriel, let me.”

“There you go…” Azriel released Nesta’s leg and let it fall back on his own. “You may taste her.”

The relief and hunger in Cassian’s piercing gaze threatened to undo her entirely, but when Azriel drawled behind her, Nesta couldn’t help but think that the edge in the Shadowsinger’s voice wasn’t just satisfaction at a job well done taunting his brother. Oh no, there was something else coming. She felt it in every single one of her release-shattered bones.

In the split second it took for her mate to kneel up and lean towards her, a scarred hand shot out from behind her, plunging into Cassian’s hair and stopping him mere inches from his goal.

“You may taste her. On me.”

Chapter Text

Scars on fingers peeking through long, unbound hair, hair she’d run her own hands through a thousand times. 

Nesta reached her left hand down to caress the head between her legs. 

Where it used to bury itself in her with desperate need, now it bobbed up and down with reckless abandon. 

Her most depraved, private, lecherous fantasies couldn’t compare to what was happening in front of her. Cassian swiped his nose against her core on his way up Azriel’s cock, and the cry Nesta let out was neither human nor fae. 

Azriel stirred, the muscles of his stomach now taut beneath her. “Enjoying the show, Nesta?” 

She could have sworn she heard the crack in the tone that up until now was careful, commanding. Restrained. So Nesta reached her right hand up to twine her fingers through Azriel’s hair. 

“Two of the most powerful Illyrians in history…” she ground her hips forward, eliciting a small noise from Azriel. “You might be in charge of this show, Shadowsinger, but I’ve got you both right where I want you.” 

“Is that so, Lady Death?” Az managed, and she felt his head drop onto the backrest of the armchair.

Nesta let the question hang in the air for a few heartbeats. “Cassian?” she stroked his head again gently.

Cassian’s gaze shot up as his lips parted with Azriel’s length, immediately joining his other hand with the one that had been gripping his base. “Yes, my love?” His voice was already hoarse. 

Looking down at him with both of his fists on Azriel’s cock… both of his huge, strong hands, not even being able to cover the entirety of him– 

“It seems like you’ve done this before,” Nesta mused, a not-altogether-sane smile on her face. 

“Many times, over the years,” he answered with a playful wink, peering up at her, still pumping Azriel. Cassian’s frantic energy had dulled into something different. Not resigned, but… happy, to do as he’s told, to follow orders, even if maybe they weren’t what he’d had in mind. As if he could see what was in store for him if he did, Cassian was eager to take anything that was thrown at him.

“So you should know by now what Azriel enjoys.”

“I do, yes.”

“Then do it, General, so I can finally have my way with both of you.” 

There was no mistaking what the brilliant flash of teeth meant as Cassian lowered his head again. “As you will it.” 

Azriel’s whole body jerked beneath Nesta, and he at last let go of Cassian’s hair, now grabbing onto Nesta’s hips as if to ground himself. “Gods damn you, Nesta.”

She laughed, dark and sensuous, and dragged her nails through his scalp, twisting to catch his moan with her mouth. Nesta bit at his lip and whimpered in time with Cassian’s muffled groans as he took Azriel for all that he was worth. 

Emboldened by his near-painful grip on her hips and his erratic thrusts underneath her, she yanked Azriel’s head to whisper right into his ear. “Now it’s your turn, Shadowsinger. Come for me. In my mate’s mouth, so I may taste you on his tongue.” 

The windows rattled with Azriel’s roar. 

Without so much as a hitch in his breath, Cassian clamped his mouth firmly at the tip of Azriel’s cock, sucking him dry as he writhed and buckled and rode out his orgasm. 

The second Cassian let go, Nesta darted forward to kiss him, all teeth and tongues and hungry growls, smearing Azriel’s spend all over them both. She pulled away just as Azriel’s breathing evened behind her, rubbing her thighs together around his cock a few times just for good measure, making him twitch. “Tastes like snow and steel and 500 years of relentless teasing,” she laughed, staring into Cassian’s breathless, swollen lips. 

Nesta gathered her strength and stood up, pushing her mate onto the bed, gesturing for him to lie back against the pillows. She climbed over him, straddling his strong legs, and twisted back towards Azriel. She beckoned him with a finger and pointed behind her.

Azriel made his way over and wordlessly knelt between Cassian’s feet, his chest once again pressing up against Nesta’s back. He circled his arms around her waist with a gentleness she marked, and nuzzled into the crook of her neck. He took a few more long moments before the gift of speech made its way back to him. “So, how exactly are you going to ‘have your way with us’, dear Nesta?” 

She debated being cryptic, or saying nothing at all, to make Azriel have a taste of his own medicine. But one look at Cassian’s face, and she couldn’t stop the nonsense tumbling out of her mouth. 

“I’m going to conduct a little experiment.”

“Oh?” Azriel’s tongue was tracing the veins in her neck, making it hard to concentrate. 

Nesta took a few heartbeats to compose herself. “Compare those infamous Illyrian wingspans of yours.” 

The Shadowsinger stilled against her neck. Cassian was staring up at her, wide-eyed.

“And, pray tell, what manner of comparison are we talking about here?”

“I’m thinking side-by-side, so to speak,” Nesta mused. “But first, I’ll even the playing field,” she ripped away the hands wrapped around her, and with no small amount of satisfaction at the pathetic sound Azriel made at the move, lowered herself forward, grabbing the base of Cassian’s cock in one hand, and took as much of him in her mouth as she could in one fell swoop.

Nesta distantly thought that it was certainly not her most graceful performance as she spat and choked and worked him over in all the ways she knew would get him tumbling off the edge as quickly as possible, but Cassian didn’t seem to mind. While duration was usually a point of pride for her mate, after the hours of teasing and, frankly, what must have been ego torture, Cass was all too happy not to hold back, and with the promise of a competition looming over the males’ heads, he was eager to let go of the built-up tension. 

Nesta reached to grab Cassian’s hand and moved it into her hair, giving it a squeeze, and braced her own hands on his hips, silently giving him the go-ahead to set the pace. In answer to the very deliberate display, she heard an affronted growl behind her.

As if unleashed, Cassian went wild, moving her head with his fist in her hair, up and down at a punishing tempo, and all Nesta could do was concentrate on taking him, on relaxing her throat and timing the few precious breaths before he bucked up with a guttural howl, spilling himself into her mouth. 

As she sucked on the last drops still leaking out of Cassian, she felt Azriel’s stare burning holes through her back. 

Nesta twisted to look at him over her shoulder, making sure not to clean anything off, even going so far as to purposefully let a string of Cassian’s come drip slowly from the side of her mouth. 

And just as she had anticipated, she was met with blazing hazel eyes, Azriel’s face no longer set into those cool, aloof features. No, his wings were flared wide, he was already hard again, and it looked like he was struggling to restrain himself from… well, from what, she didn’t know.

But she wanted to find out.

Chapter Text

Holding Azriel’s gaze, Nesta brought up her hand to her mouth, scooping up what she hadn’t swallowed of Cassian’s load on two fingers, and reached between her own legs to rub it on her core in a few taunting circles. Still straddling her mate’s legs, she slowly raised her backside, presenting herself to Azriel.

In any other context, she might have feared for her life, as the snarl that came out of him was unlike anything she’d ever heard.

Nesta barely had enough time to twist back around to face Cassian before Azriel was upon her. He grabbed her hip with one hand and slid three fingers into her, three fingers that minutes or millennia ago had already stretched and taunted her. “I’m ready , Azriel,” Nesta barked impatiently. 

He huffed a breath, vaguely amused, and removed his fingers. Nesta felt him align himself, coating his tip with her slickness in a few quick circles. “If you insist.” Azriel slid in.

She was not ready. No amount of time or number of digits could have gotten her anywhere close to ready. 

The cry that escaped Nesta’s throat had Cassian sitting up to frame her face in his hands, landing little kisses on her forehead and running his fingers through her hair. 

Nesta silently thanked the gods that even with all of Azriel’s snarling he was gracious enough to move slowly, letting her adjust. Inch by breath-stopping inch. 

Cassian hooked a thumb under Nesta’s chin to pull her into a deep, slow kiss, swallowing her moans and echoing them with his own, stroking her hair, her neck, her shoulders, relaxing her. All she heard behind her were shallow breaths and a rustle of wings. 

Her mate pulled away to look over her and then back to meet her eyes. “You’re doing so well, sweetheart. We’re halfway there.”

Half? 

Even Nesta’s mental voice was ragged. 

Have you seen his wings?

Nesta managed to chuckle, earning a hiss from Azriel at the sudden clench of her muscles. “Easy,” he ground out between clenched teeth, hands digging into the soft flesh of her hips. 

Retreating and advancing, he filled her. So slowly, so considerately, that the first flash of burning ache had eased into a sweet smolder, the embers of frantic need beginning to crackle low in her stomach again. 

One final thrust and she finally felt Azriel fall forward, flush with her back, his chest heaving against her. Nesta’s head hung between her shoulders, staring down, focusing on Cassian’s chest. She saw a scarred hand land on the side of his hip and took a few long moments to breathe in, out, in, out, willing her muscles to relax completely. 

“I… fu–” Azriel’s words were interrupted by his own irregular panting, his breath hot between Nesta’s shoulder blades. 

Cassian lifted her head to make her look him straight in the eye. “How does that make you feel, Nesta?” he purred, his usually bright hazel eyes now completely darkened with lust. “That the infamous spymaster – endlessly patient and carefully restrained…” he nipped at her bottom lip. ”...Is rendered utterly speechless by your hot, tight little cunt?” 

Nesta whimpered. 

In her periphery she could have sworn she saw a blue light flare, and before she could muster any manner of response, Azriel withdrew nearly all the way out. 

And then slammed himself to the hilt, knocking the air out of her completely. All she could do was gasp as Azriel started pounding into her at a punishing pace, hauling her hips up and planting a firm hand on the small of her back to angle her, plunging himself deep, every thrust hitting that sweet spot in her with a warrior’s precision.

Nesta hadn’t felt when her head had dropped back between her shoulders but she was now looking down Cassian’s body, at his hand fisted around his cock, hard as ever, pumping himself in time with Azriel’s relentless pounding.

“Look at you…” her mate’s voice was barely a murmur above her head. His unoccupied hand reached for her, and an image flickered through their bond.

Of herself, as Cassian saw her. His eyes led her from her hair falling on his chest, along every bump of her spine, past the curve of her backside, and then – of beautiful, taut muscles, tattoos making their way up sweat-slick skin, a head thrown back and throat exposed… up and up and up at a view of magnificent wings, surrounded by swirling, shimmering darkness. 

But it wasn’t just an impression that seared into Nesta, no. A tidal wave of feelings washed over her as the image became clearer and brighter.

Love, and reverence, and adoration. Lust, and warmth, and intrigue. All there, singing to her, caressing her, urging her on.

Even if it’s not me, I love seeing you like this. 

Nesta threw her head back and screamed, release tearing through her, Cassian catching her in a winded kiss as she came, clutching onto him for dear life.

As the last of the shocks reverberated, Azriel still slamming into her, Nesta tried to speak, but words eluded her. Instead she sent a flash of an image to Cassian, every desire wrapped into a single breathless word. One last command. 

You.

With all the grace of a hurricane, Cassian moved forward, grabbing Nesta and maneuvering her onto himself, a desperate sigh against her chest as she slid home. In the same breath, he reached around her to grip Azriel’s cock, not missing a single beat. As Nesta regained her composure, she started grinding her hips in tandem, feeling the relentless rhythm of Cassian pumping and rubbing Azriel against her back, his heaving now becoming increasingly erratic against her hair. The Shadowsinger’s hands moved between her and her mate, kneading her breasts and running his palm firmly up her neck, then through Cassian’s hair and to his nape to pull him into a feral kiss above her, crushing her between their bodies. Their guttural moans vibrated through her, their scents mingling into something so heady, so intoxicating, as she rode Cassian with Azriel firmly against her, and she thought she might just lose her mind entirely. A few more moves, one more right angle and release would drag her under once more, but she wanted them to finish this mad, infernal dance together. 

Nesta planted her palm on Cassian’s chest, knocking him back onto the sheets, and grabbed his hands to situate them on her thighs, silently ordering him to move her. She twisted one hand back to grab the base of Azriel’s cock in a vise, while the other reached up blindly to find his wing, running her fingers as gently as she could along the powerful curve of it until he shuddered against her, a choked sound escaping his throat, marking her spot. 

“Cassian,” Nesta pleaded, and she didn’t know if she uttered his name or only thought it, but he held her hips aloft and began pounding into her, hard and fast and deliciously crazed.

She felt every single thrust in her core, between her ribs, in her throat, in her very soul , and as her mate drew closer to the edge, she pumped Azriel roughly a few more times and twisted her other wrist to run the back of her palm, nails dragging lightly, against the sensitive membrane of his wing. He cried out, his hands tightening around her shoulders. “Nesta–”

Now.

With her last shred of strength, Nesta sank herself down on Cassian. 

She didn’t know whose release found them first as stars exploded behind her eyelids. Earth-shaking roars surrounded her, drowning out the scream ripping out of her throat as she came, and came, and came, her entire being completely shattering.  

Nesta swayed, unable to catch her breath, and two sets of unsteady hands eased her gently to the side.

Time seemed to pass. Maybe. Somewhere, in some other world. Here, the only things her awareness clung to were the ragged, deep breaths either side of her and the ringing in her ears.

Someone murmured. 

She couldn’t tell what was said, couldn’t–

Warm darkness enveloped her and she drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep.

***

Nesta heard a door closing softly somewhere nearby. 

She slowly opened her eyes, the bright morning sun making her blink furiously.

“Why hello, sweetheart. Sleep well?” Cassian drawled from the bedside table where he put a tray of pastries and tea down. He was still fully naked, no doubt having traipsed around the House like he owned the place. 

Azriel stirred on her left, grumbling. He was facing her, lying on his stomach, his wing draped over her. 

“Like a babe,” Nesta answered, staring at Azriel’s furrowed brow. The memories of the night before rushed back, threatening to overwhelm her.

Was Cassian okay with how things went? Did Azriel regret it? Was he just waiting for them to get out and never speak to them ever again? Had she crossed some line?

Before her thoughts got away from her, she turned her head and met her mate’s eyes. In an effort to look casual, Nesta blew him a kiss and flung an arm out from under Azriel’s wing, reaching for the food.

Cassian wordlessly handed her a pastry and flopped onto bed next to her, making Nesta and Az bounce a few times on the mattress from the impact. Azriel finally cracked an eye open at that, letting out an annoyed, if half-hearted, growl.  

Nesta and Cassian ate their pastries, watching him. 

Azriel watched them right back.

After what seemed like an eternity, he stretched his arms and legs lazily. “You’re getting crumbs on my bed.”

“Got some other stuff on it last night too, lover,” Cassian purred, winking. All the tension building in Nesta’s chest deflated, and she chuckled. 

Azriel turned his head a few times, cracking his neck. “So, are the results in?”

“Mmm?” Nesta asked, muffled, still chewing.

“Of the ‘wingspan experiment.’”

“Oh, I just said that so you two insufferable bats would have something to compete for instead of busying yourselves with torturing each other.” She threw a pointed look at Azriel.

The Illyrians both scoffed in unison, indignant. Nesta shrugged. “I think you will agree that if there was a winner here overall, it’s me.”

Cassian barked a laugh. “Az had me in the first half, I’m not gonna lie.” 

Azriel threw his hands up. “I wanted to play. May I remind you that this was your idea? And with that jealous shit spewing out of your ugly mouth, I think you had it coming.” 

“Well, my ugly mouth certainly had you— “

Nesta groaned, cutting Cassian off. “Gods, how you’ve not ripped each other apart after centuries of this is beyond me.”

Azriel reached up and flicked Nesta’s nose. She blew at the hand as if it were an annoying fly. 

“So, Az…” Cassian reached over to tickle his wing, making it twitch. “Same time next week?”

Azriel simply laughed.