addicted to this brush

Ecstasy. {Nessian}

Requested by @rowanismybae. Nessian, with some smut and a side of fluff. I always love getting Nessian requests, for I am trash. I apologize, it’s kind of short. Anyways, enjoy. :)

Originally posted by imaulusoyist

Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

I felt as if time was going slower than usual. I’d been standing in the foyer, at the bottom of the staircase, for nearly thirty minutes. She was late.  The rest of the Court was on their way to the ball already, Elain having whispered good luck to me on her way out the door, arm in arm with Azriel. 

At this point, I wasn’t sure if her good luck was meant to be a warning for whatever mood Nesta was in, or if it was because she knew I’d be waiting on her sister for an ungodly amount of time.But, as the door on the second floor of the townhouse creaked open, all my anxiety faded. And when she came around the corner, all my complaints vanished. 

Her hair was up, braided in a crown around the top of her head. Her gown was long, trailing the wooden floorboards behind her, the color of the Velaris sky just before the sun began to rise. 

She was half way down the stairs when her eyes found mine, and she froze, her pink lips parting, slightly.

I held my hand out to her. “See something you like?”

Blue-gray eyes rolled. 

Moment over.

“I’ve never seen you in anything other than rags, is all,” she stated, continuing her walk until she met me in the foyer. “And you bathed, which is always shocking.”

My smirk made her roll her eyes, again. “I clean up well. Don’t act so surprised.”

And cleaned up, I did. Feyre actually suggested that I wore the tailored pants and the light grey button down. I drew the line at the tie and the shoes, however. So, I kept the top button loose and wore my boots. Nesta’s eyes scanned my hair, which was knotted at the back of my head, then my chest, then my waist where my shirt was perfectly tucked. Then-

“Are those your training boots?” she raised an eyebrow.

As I glanced down at my dusty, black leather boots, Nesta breathed out a laugh. 

Shrugging, I held out my hand, “Shall we?”

Her fingers grazed mine, but she didn’t move. The same ecstasy that I felt every time Nesta’s body made contact with mine consumed me, the feeling that I dreamed about, that I thought about constantly and could never get enough of. That feeling of ecstasy was my weakness, my downfall, my greatest accomplishment, my addiction.

“You look beautiful,” i said, brushing a stray strand of golden-brown hair behind her ear.

She opened her mouth, then closed her lips into a thin line before opening them again,

“When are we supposed to be there?” she whispered, running her fingers down my forearm. 

I glanced at the clock. “Ten minutes ago.”

She sucked in a breath as I took a step closer. “And ten minutes more?”

A grin spread across my lips before I could stop it. “Wouldn’t hurt.”

In my time with Nesta, I could honestly say that she never ceased to amaze me. I was constantly surprised by her – by her wit, by her knowledge, by her hidden kindness, by her talents, by the way she knew how to use her hands just the right way along every inch of my body.

Now was no exception.

She didn’t waste time dragging me upstairs before she slid her finger along the inside of my wing, just behind my shoulder blade. She knew what she was doing. She knew I was about to drop to my knees and beg for all she had to give me. She knew, and she enjoyed watching me in awe of her beauty.

She pushed me back against the leather couch and straddled my lap. With one hand running up her thigh, underneath the thin skirts of her evening gown, and the other trailing up her back to find the ribbon that held everything in place, our lips met in a soft, slow, tender embrace.

It was a dance, the way her tongue brushed mine every time we kissed, how she somehow managed to naturally make my hips move along with hers. I had been with many women, but none of them compared to her. None of them compared with the human who stole from the Cauldron, from the Fae that comforted me as death surrounded us both. None of them compared to the female who could make a suriel stop in its tracks, who could take away my fears and anxieties with just a simple smile. None of them had made me feel so unworthy, so alive. None of them were Nesta Archeron, and I never wanted to taste, feel, love anyone but her.

Her eyes stared into mine as she unbuttoned my shirt, one by one. I finally managed to find the ribbon tied neatly into a bow at the small of her back and yanked, allowing the dress to fall down to her waist. 

Her back straightened as I took her in, the same body I had witnessed day after day and only grew to love more every damn time.

My shirt had been pushed down my arms before I cupped her breasts, and ran my tongue along her bottom lip, up her jawbone, and nipped at her earlobe. 

She shuddered as she unzipped my trousers and her small, delicate hand found me in no small, delicate way at all. My head fell back against the cushions as she took control, her name a whisper that had found its way into the moans escaping my open lips. 

Before I could get too excited, she rose from her place on my lap and let her gown fall to the crimson rug. She watched me as my eyes slid from her toes, up, slowly, until they reached her own, and she grinned.

I watched her as she turned from me, as she walked calmly up the stairs. She glanced at me, once, when she reached the landing of the second floor then continued down the hallway. 

I waited a few seconds before I pushed off by boots, and sprinted to the upper level.

She was waiting for me in the doorway of her bedroom, a soft giggle the only sound in the otherwise silent townhouse. 

“Tease,” I mumbled, as my lips pressed into hers and I lifted her up by her waist, her long, slender legs wrapping around my lower back.

“You like it.” 

I could not disagree as her lips found my neck and I was completely undone.

Dainty feet pushed down my trousers until they were nothing more than a limp piece of fabric at the foot of the bed, just after I laid her down, her head resting on the pillow she’d stole from my room a month ago.

The first gasp would get me every time. The gasp she made when I would first enter her, gently, urgently. The gasp that told me that’s what she wanted, that’s what she’d been waiting for, that I could still satisfy her after all this time. I lived for that gasp, that expression on her ethereal face of pure adrenaline. 

Making love to Nesta was like being with someone who was not of this world. She was demanding, yet generous, she was confident, yet awestruck, she was quiet and cunning, yet moaned my name continuously as if she could not get close enough to me. We were one in the same. I couldn’t tell where her body ended and mine began, and I didn’t want to. It was not a meaningless act of lust, but a dance that was only perfected when two people who were meant for one another found each other.  It was like nothing I had ever experienced before, and something I wanted to experience for as long as I lived.

We lied there, breathless, her head lying on my damp chest when the clock struck midnight. 

She cursed, and I laughed at the sound of vulgarity coming from her proper mouth. We had been too busy talking, too busy exploring one another to join the others.

“What will we tell them?” she asked. 

“I’ll tell them you couldn’t keep your hands off me,” my hand ran down her backside as she chastised me, which only made me laugh harder. 

“You make me happy,” she said, quietly, after the sound of laughter and heavy breathing faded into nothingness.

I kissed her forehead, softly, as I pulled her blankets up to our waists and wrapped my wings around her. “You give me life, Nesta Archeron.”   

4

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