Answered Dreams (ACOTAR | ACOMAF | ACOWAR)

Chapter ☆ Twelve

"After all that, you did remember to turn the soup of.... I hope?" she teased as she followed. No, she was not going to let him live any of this down.

Rhys didn't give her the satisfaction of stumbling, or reacting externally. He simply used his power to turn off the stove. And to dump the soup somewhere far, far away. It probably ended up in the Sidra. The fish probably wouldn't even touch it, he thought miserably. 

The next thing on his agenda; bath. So he strode over to the tub, turned on the hot water, savoring the steam rising up to greet him before turning on the cool just slightly, to balance out the hot.

"Maybe I should make sure to write you notes to help you remember things. Those always seem better retained, I think." She smirked leaning in the doorway, watching him. Yes, she was having fun.

He snorted, glancing over his shoulder at her, a twinkle in his eyes. "Only if you start every note with 'Dear Rhysand, my dearest debonair darling...', will I read it," he said before beginning to strip. Deciding he could use with a bath as well.

"Something tells me if I started it with 'Hey Prick, remember that time you forgot about the soup?' that would get your attention as well." She pushed off from the wall and walked over to the bath, sitting on the edge to let her hand run through it to check its temperature. She looked up at her High Lord through lowered lashes, and amused smirk still playing on her lips.

"And if I replied, with, "Hello, Feyre darling, remember that time I fucked you so hard you knocked all the pictures off the wall?', it would get your attention," he said with a pointed glance at her. He was half tempted to push her into the bath water. And he almost nearly did, at that.

"Oooh," she glared, but before he could even think about making good on that temptation, she took her hand, already in the water, and, gathering the slightest bit of power, splashed at larger than normal amount of water straight at his face.

Rhys saw it coming and closed his eyes against the sudden splash instead of shielding himself against it. He spluttered, wiping the water from his eyes then looking at Feyre incredulously. "It's like that, is it?" he said in one moment, and in the next he'd casually pushed her over the edge of the bath and into the very deep tub itself, grinning.

She couldn't believe he actually did it. One moment she was sitting smug on the edge of the tub, the next she was a tangle of limbs as she tried to maintain her balance, and fell into the tub, completely submerged. The benefit of needing a tub large enough to accommodate wings was that it was thankfully deeper than normal, otherwise there would have been a call to the healers, and explaining that would have put a negative turn to the night. Feyre brought herself back to the surface, running her hands over her face to get her hair our of the way, and wiped the water out of her eyes. And she looked at Rhys, wide-eyed and incredulous. "You...!"

"You didn't think I'd actually do it? Tsk tsk, Feyre darling, you should know me better than that by now," he purred, a smug grin plastered on his face. He pulled the remaining layer of clothes, his shirt, over his head and slid over the edge of and into the tub itself before she could splash him again.

She glared. Because she did know better, and she didn't know what good it would do, but she just stayed there. And glared. Because if she moved, she probably would have pounced on him, all naked and wet and tattooed and beautiful, and she wasn't ready to give him that benefit. Not yet.

Rhys felt where her mind was going and he wiggled his eyebrows at her suggestively before slowly submerging himself. He was nearly sitting on the bottom of the tub as he circled her underwater. Ooh, this position of his was so good for so many things. He could do oh so many things that would probably result in her jumping, or blindly trying to clobber him. He wasn't sure which would amuse him more.