I got the sex scene. FML.
A Court of Mist and Fury Chapter 55:
I watched him consume every spoonful, his eyes darting between where I stood and the soup.
Never did I ever think ACOMAF would feature dramatic soup eating, but boy am I glad it did.
Once he’s finished with the soup, Feyre sits on his lap and tells him she loves him and repeatedly reminds us that they’re mates as they make out.
It was gentle— soft. The kiss he might have given me if we’d been granted time and peace to meet across our two separate worlds. To court each other.
“It was the kind of kiss we might have given each other in another situation and also this situation that we’re in right now.”
Rhysand then picks up/throws Feyre down on the table on top of all of her paint. I guess we’re supposed to be amazed by how passion has consumed him so that he cannot bear to move the paint aside or take her into the bedroom. They’re in a tiny cabin, how far could the bedroom be?
Paint soaked into my hair, my arms. But all I could think of was his mouth as it lowered to my breast and sucked, his tongue flicking against my nipple.
Yeah, that’s a lie; there’s no way she’s not thinking about this paint because the paint is mentioned for basically the rest of the chapter. At this point the paint has become more of a main character than any of Rhysand’s friends.
He let out a low laugh, and I watched, breathless, as he took that hand and traced a circle around my breast, then lower, until he painted a downward arrow beneath my belly button.
“Lest you forget where this is going to end,” he said.
Would if I could, Rhys, would if I could single tear slides down cheek.
There was paint all over my hands, my arms, but I didn’t care as I grabbed at his clothes.
Okay, you get the point about the paint. There’s a lot more where that came from.
Feyre is also really fixated on the fact that they’re mates and because of this Rhysand doesn’t mind kneeling in front of her or unfolding his wings during sex because they’re mates/equals. It’s strange that being mates is treated as synonymous as being treated equally in a relationship when I don’t see how that’s a guarantee.
They also both feel compelled to keep snarling, “You’re mine” at one another.
He looked me over, naked, covered in paint, his own face and body smeared with it, and give me a slow, satisfied male smile. “You’re mine,” he snarled, and hefted me up into his arms.
I mean, seriously, why is supposedly loving phrase being snarled? What a weirdly, aggressive way to express this.
This chapter also confirms what we all suspected: Rhys has a huge penis.
Wholly naked, I watched as he unbuttoned his pants, and the considerable length of him sprang free.
[…]
Rhys laughed in a way that skittered along my bones, and slid in. And in. And in.
I wonder if more readers were excited Feyre and Rhys were finally hooking up or more excited to finally have the answers about Rhys’ penis that they so craved.
They tell each other, “You’re mine” almost ten times during the sex. It’s all very unnecessary.
There’s also an animalistic aspect that Maas seems really really focussed on:
I felt and saw and smelled that bond between us, until our scents merged, and I was his and he was mine, and we were the beginning and middle and end.
Then later, Rhys explains that they’re both basically in heat and can’t stop fucking each other for awhile. But I’ll get to that more in a minute. FIRST. There’s this weird thing where thanks to the Day Court (unconfirmed) Feyre starts glowing during sex? I have no idea what place that has in the story, but it’s there and now you know.
It was a small magic, he’d once told me, to keep the damper on who he was, what his power looked like.
As the full majesty of him was unleashed, he filled the room, the world, my soul, with glittering ebony power. Stars and wind and shadows; peace and dreams and the honed edge of nightmares. Darkness rippled from him like tendrils of steam as he reached out honed edge of nightmares. Darkness rippled from him like tendrils of steam as he reached out a hand and laid it flat against the glowing skin of my stomach.
How many things can we possibly list to describe Rhys’ grand power? “Peace and dreams and the honed edge of nightmares”? What the fuck is any of this?
Okay so now I bring you the sex frenzy talk:
“The … frenzy,” he said carefully, as if fearful the wrong word might send us both hurtling for each other before we could get sustenance into our bodies. “When a couple accepts the mating bond, it’s … overwhelming. Again, harkening back to the beasts we once were. Probably something about ensuring the female was impregnated.” My heart paused at that. “Some couples don’t leave the house for a week. Males get so volatile that it can be dangerous for them to be in public, anyway. I’ve seen males of reason and education shatter a room because another male looked too long in their mate’s direction, too soon after they’d been mated.”
My reading on this is…not great. It’s like we’re giving the violence an excuse to be sexy because it’s so animalistic and beyond Rhys’ control because it’s nature. I actually started to wonder for a minute if this was another Fifty Shades situation in that this was originally a fanfic, because this is a really popular theme in pretty much every fandom. Interesting too that it’s only the males who get violent. I’m not saying this would make it better, but why not both the male and the female? Maas could make up any rules she wanted here, and that’s what she picked.
The other tough pill to swallow this chapter is when they talk about whether Feyre should be on birth control (I just realized that I accidentally kind of made a pun!):
“If I am a High Lord’s mate, I’m expected to bear you offspring, aren’t I? So perhaps I shouldn’t.”
“You are not expected to bear me anything,” he snarled. “Children are rare, yes. So rare, and so precious. But I don’t want you to have them unless you want to— unless we both want to…”
I’m glad Rhys feels that way, but again, it’s like he’s the one who had to give Feyre permission to have agency over her own body.
They agree that first they need to win the war and then spend time just the two of them, so I give Feyre like ~5 months till she’s pregnant with eight of Rhysand’s babies because their powers are both so strong.
Anyway, Rhys is like, “Oh yeah, right, also we’re going to meet with the queens again, so the plot is moving forward. Remember the plot? Me neither. Let’s fuck.”
I wanted to make sure I drew special attention to this:
“What will you call me?”
“Mate,” he said. “Though also calling you my wife sounds mighty appealing, too.”
Thank you, Cowboy!Rhys. Since when has Rhys ever said anything like “mighty appealing”?
And this:
Rhys roared as he came, slamming in to the hilt. Outside, the mountains trembled, the remaining snow rushing from them in a cascade of glittering white, only to be swallowed up by the waiting night below.
Yes. You read that correctly. Mountains trembled.