( a brightness shines in his eyes, which wasn't there before — the look of a man no longer out of his depth, holding something he knows he can map out. something he knows feyre will like, something he can share with her to prove it isn't all bad, up here. his arms ease up their tight hold, just enough so his hands can cup her thighs, sliding up to squeeze her ass pointedly. )

Mm. It's like a bath, under rainfall. ( yeah, no explanation will do it justice. distractedly, he swipes his fingers around the handfuls of feyre he holds onto, fingertips brushing her sopping folds. ) We don't have to get you too clean, though. ( his smile is conspiratorial — a nasty, feral part of himself that feyre is privy to. he drags his fingers down the mess he'd made of her, pointedly pushing his cum back inside her with a clever twist of his wrist. ) Keep that where it belongs.

( warm and safe inside her, like so many other parts of rhys. feyre is sanctuary — she's his home. )