[ it takes her longer, this time. she overthinks it — of course she does. preoccupies herself not with how she sounds, but with if he actually enjoys doing this. he'd offered, more than once, and yet she wonders if it's obligation or just a way to get himself into her good graces, as she's sure it had been for aleksander. (she feels immediately guilty for this comparison, too.)
but she has heard stories, in the first army. about the way girls smell and the shape of their cunts and how laborious it is to give them pleasure instead of just taking it.
she wants to croon pretty, feminine noises for him, like gilia or zoya would make. she wants him to think that she tastes good, wants him to only be down there as long as he would like instead of feeling like he needs to finish his chore, wants to come quickly enough to excite him. she wants to be easy to please.
these thoughts only make it more difficult, and the thoughts feed on themselves like a snake that eats its own tail. more than once she is left on the tittering flutter of something — almost there, breath caught in her chest, her whole body arching off the bed. ]
Ah. Saints. Yes, that's — Keep going. [ little whimpers, hungry and aching noises that are soft and small and almost sheepish as her heel digs deeper into his back. only then she huffs and sags again as she loses the thread. she slings her free hand over her eyes, humiliation starting to set in as she says, wobbly, ] I didn't mean that. You don't have to keep — [ how to say it? putting it words makes it worse.
[ Even so occupied, Nikolai is aware of some dissonant note here. Aware that Alina is close but frustrated, that he isn't giving her quite what she needs.
And he would have kept going, yes, but for the miserable backtracking, and whisper of thought that Nikolai knows immediately wasn't meant for him. It brings his eyes up, lifts his head from its work, the wet slick of her across his mouth and chin obvious even when he turns his face to kiss the inside of her thigh. ]
I am.
[ But what is the likelihood Alina believes him? ]
Look at me, [ he coaxes. ] Do you think I don't want to kiss you here? Make you come apart this way?
[ she drops her arm slowly. peers down at him like she's being made to do it. begrudging, yet aching. she wants to believe him, hear him, but it feels like placating. ]
I'm trying. [ to come apart. to finish for him, so that they can move onto other things. things that he will enjoy more than this. ] Not that I have to try. You're good at this. Terribly good at this. I'm the one who's making it difficult.
[ her tongue feels thick in her mouth. like she's bitten it to numbness and now none of her words are right. she takes a breath. tries to start again. ]
I want to come apart for you. I don't know why I'm taking so long. That's my fault. So you don't have to keep trying.
[ These are all the wrong questions. Alina answers them as if she has been cornered, all the ease and joy stripped out of her voice.
Nikolai levers himself upwards, stretching out alongside her. It is only a pause in the proceedings, a breath of space in which they might reorient themselves. When he puts his hands on her, it is a gentler thing. Fingers at the bend of her waist, arm stretched across her stomach, his ankle hitched around hers. ]
I want to keep trying, [ Nikolai tells her. ] I think my investment speaks for itself.
[ A joke, humor to diminish the way his body has reacted to her. To gentle how obvious his affection must be, written across his face, by making the focus something more physical. The flush spread across his skin. How hard he is already, as gentlemanly as he is attempting to be about it. ]
We can take our time. We can try something else, for a little while, before we do that again.
[ it slips out compulsively. she raises her hand to his chest, plants it there, stabilizes herself on him.
the dim light glints off the wetness of his chin, and she thinks she likes it, this flush-faced look that is stained by her. she tries to focus on that. kisses him, and tastes herself, and likes that too. the hand at his chest moves to cradle his face.
she channels all her frustration into that kiss, lazily possessive in how her tongue pushes into his mouth. she avails herself of him in a way that anchors her, makes more evident how it is the surrendering of control that leaves room for her to over-think.
a brief flash of her loathing for aleksander for doing this to her stirs. she pushes it down, smothers it.
her other hand reaches down between them, takes him in hand. her grip is loose and light, but it makes her feel better to stroke him—idle, purposeless. both a reminder of what she does to him and a reassurance that she can please him, too. it is more concrete this way, than when his head is between her thighs.
she breaks the kiss, her forehead pressed to his. ] Can I try? [ a reversal. ]
[ Alina had offered, Nikolai recalls. Balanced on Aleksander's lap, eyes glassy, fabric of her toga coming apart, as she reached for him. Nikolai remembers weighing the offer, considering the possibilities afforded to him, choosing what felt like a lesser transgression.
Here, in this bed, she is clear-eyed. Steadier for their slow kissing and the idle wanderings of their hands. Nikolai lays a hand flat over her chest, fingers resting at the hollow of her throat, over the ragged skin and jutting bone rising from her collar ]
If you'd like to, [ is something near to a yes. ] But not because you think I wasn't enjoying myself.
[ she frowns—pouts, really. doesn't like the insinuation that it's to distract him from her insecurities and not herself, especially when she remembers trying before. when she has too often imagined the power that lies in unraveling him.
but she'd promised to give him a different gift, here. the chance to unravel her, instead. it's just proven hard to give. much harder than she'd expected, for all her good intentions.
the pout fades as his fingers continue to stroke at her collarbone, however. her breaths grow uneven. the little hum of light under her skin blooming again as the eldritch connection between them blossoms again. like calls to like. she should ask. he should tell her. what is he hiding? what in him is calling to her amplifiers? she doesn't.
instead, ] It would be a nice distraction. We could do it together.
[ Touching her here, at the ragged join of skin and bone, sparks up a tugging hook of pain in his shoulder. Discomfort instead of agony, though part of him wonders if it would build in time. If it reacting to Alina or—
It's set aside. Nikolai doesn't want to follow that train of thought. ]
I don't want you distracted.
[ Is the first thing he tells her, before amending— ]
Well, not by anything that isn't how handsome I am.
[ Some levity, as Nikolai's fingers resume their idle exploration of this new-found addition. Watches the way light moves under and across her skin. Considers the shallow hitch of her breath. ]
[ she hisses the word out like a confession, like she's reluctant to make the admission, to give it a voice. her head tips back, lips parted as she sinks into the feeling, even as it scares her. ]
It's ... intense. [ she adds, soft. ] Overwhelming. [ she opens her eyes again, searches his face while she wets her lips. feels out the moment. she shifts onto him, pins his thighs between hers, then starts to scale down his body. she presses her mouth to his chest, charting a course with her lips. she won't let him distract her from her intention, either, no matter how handsome he is. ]
I want to overwhelm you, [ can't come as a surprise. Nikolai tells her this even as they move, as she puts him onto his back.
She is already in motion, quick enough that he can't catch hold of her to kiss. The graze of her mouth makes something in his chest twist. (Affection, yes, but the wound leaps at the proximity too.) ]
Alina, [ is near to caution, even though it comes with a kind of strain. A ragged edge becoming obvious as her trajectory makes itself known. ]
Has anyone done this for you before? [ she asks, his cock in her hand and her lips against the divot of muscle that slopes down the inner side of his hip, towards the soft down of blonde hair along his abdomen.
it is perhaps selfish and a little unfair to hope that she's the first, when he hasn't had the same luxury. but she knows that she will be clumsy, will fumble. she also knows that she feels the same as he does — the urge to overwhelm, to ruin. she wants to know he'll think of her any time his cock is in someone else's mouth. in someone else's anything. ]
[ Vasily had assumed once that Nikolai was tumbling village girls. That Nikolai was doing what he would have done.
But the only person he’d tumbled had been Dominik. And it is still difficult to think of him, the ugly abruptness of his death. They’d been apart for a long time before that.
This is what he tells her, anticipating Alina’s question: ]
[ she should have considered that was the more likely answer. she hesitates only a moment, gaze dropping to his pale skin, to where she kisses down along that crevice of his joint. he is a prince, and handsome, and charming, and — and all of the things that make him easy to want. it's like a barb in her boot.
she shoves it away. if she can't be the first, she'll just have to try to be the best. ]
Tell me how you like it.
[ this is the last thing she says before she drags her tongue along the side of his cock, loosening her grip only to make room for that exploration. the soft skin is hot to touch. she leaves a wet stripe of saliva behind, settles her mouth against the head of his cock. ]
[ Alina asks him this question, and then makes it impossible to answer
Nikolai is quiet for a long moment. Breathes out hard as blood thuds in his ears. Keeps still, despite the restless twitch of his hips, telegraphing more before Nikolai can get his breath. ]
Let me show you.
[ Is likely predictable; Nikolai is always too active by half. One heel finds purchase in her coverlet, giving him enough leverage to prop himself against the pillow.
When he looks at her, it enough to knock the breath from him again.
Still, his hand touches her face, her cheek, as he says— ]
[ there's a question in that wrinkle of her brow. what it means to show her, in this context, but his hand on her cheek seems to answer that. she loosens her grip on him. tentatively surrenders a fraction of her control. ]
Show me. [ she agrees, lips parting, taking the head of his cock between them again. watching him with some anticipatory anxiety that she feels can't possibly look attractive, but that she can't smother nonetheless.
tries to tell herself that if she gags and he's horrified, that it's his own fault. ]
Relax, [ comes as a warm murmur pressed directly into her mind, reassuring as Nikolai’s thumb sets briefly at the corner of her mouth.
His fingers skim along her cheek, slide carefully into her hair. Alina’s permission is something to be taken with care. It’s giving him so much leeway that it would be easy to do some kind of harm.
So they go slowly, regardless of Nikolai’s preferences. His grip in her hair grows very fixed, not quite tight enough to hurt, as he urges her down over him, so, so slowly, mindful of her reaction, and then draws her back up again. A testing sort of thing, an acclimation, before they attempt any part of this in earnest. ]
alina realizes it then with his cock in her mouth and his hand guiding her by her hair to take more and more of it. her tongue presses up against him and the spit slicks that first plunge to a glide.
the slow way he fills her mouth evokes anticipation of what they are here for, of what she had begged him to finally give her. she can imagine how his cock will stretch her cunt like it stretches the circle of her lips. her kegel muscles clench like her tongue and throat: the former aching with emptiness, the latter threatened by the opposite.
he'd always given the impression of wanting her to lead, of waiting for her permission or instruction or request. but now, with his hand in her hair, she sees how much he, too, likes the act of control.
he'd hidden it well—probably he knew, since he'd known her so much longer than she'd known him, that she had good reason to fear men who sought to control her. but he won't let her overwhelm him like he wants to do to her. he wants to coach and guide her to satisfy him in a way that doesn't force him to surrender like he asks her to.
but she sees him now. and somehow, that revelation slides down her spine with the same smoothness of his cock head reaching the back of her throat. alina's eyes drift shut. the tension leaves her shoulders, her neck, and she gives herself over to him. it is nice, to have a reprieve from having to decide, from having to resist, from having to perform. to let him show her the right way—not to use her, but to take care of them both.
her hands rest on his hips, fingers curling to hold him. her throat relaxes around him, and the little nest of blonde hair tickles her nose when she reaches the root of him. she doesn't move. heat pools between her thighs, turns to a trickle of wetness. a tingling need for attention. she doesn't reach to satisfy it, but savors that feeling and gets herself steadily used to breathing through her nose instead of her mouth. ]
His fingers shift in her hair. Relaxing and tightening his grip, hand gentle at the nape of her neck. Breathing, just as she is. Labored inhales as the effort of remaining still manifests in fine tremors in his body, a slight shift of his legs beneath her.
It is very different than what this had been with Dominik, once. ]
You are so beautiful, [ presses into her mind, soft as a kiss. A little nonsensical, considering her position, the stretch of her mouth around him and the flush rising in her cheeks. He can still taste her. He tells her again, ] Relax. You have me.
[ The temptation to keep her there, to stay sheathed in her mouth, pressed to the back of her throat, burns like a coal in his belly. Some low, curious part of him wonders how long he could last that way, or is too caught by the appeal of Alina gone pliant under his hands.
But he draws her up once more, up but not off, and sets her down again in a slow, punishing slide of heat. He burns with this too, the effort of the pace he's set, the ebb of sensation building by minor degrees with each drag of her lips and tongue. ]
[ her heart flutters in her chest. it's an absurd thing. he's got his cock in her mouth for saint's sake, but oh, it feels good to hear him tell her how beautiful she looks like this. to be cherished for giving him this.
the second and third and every iterative drag of her lips is wetter than the last. her saliva clings to his skin, gathers in his hair, coats her lips. the movements are easier, warmer, but also messier, louder. she can hear as well as feel the way his cock fills the hollow at the back of her throat, punching air out of her with a wet sound that makes her thighs clench.
she moans around him. the sound rumbles through his cock. the changed shape of the muscles of her throat, of her tongue, mean she almost gags on that next plunge. everything above her amplifiers briefly tenses at once, like her lungs seizing, but that precariousness only makes her warmer. ]
(I want to touch myself.) [ it's less deliberate reply and more slip of intention. but now that it's between them, she opens her eyes with some struggle, looking doe-eyed up at him to ask: ] (Tell me I can. Out loud. I want to hear you, please. Tell me I'm good.)
[ later, this admission will embarrass her. the way the telepathic communication he opens makes it too easy for all her needy pleas to spill over into speech. but her poor neglected cunt throbs with need, and it is only a fraction of the hunger he's awakened in her for further praise. ]
[ The second-hand sensation of her gag rattles through his body, jolts a groan of reaction out of Nikolai even as he eases Alina back, gentles the urging press of his hand at her nape.
The rawness of the request that follows catches like a hook in his belly. Alina cannot be aware of how it feels, the way it is almost as if she is pulling on a line, making his entire body leap in reaction to her.
For a moment, he cannot find any words. ]
Are you wet for me? [ is hooked out of him. The bones at her neck graze his thighs as he shifts, as he leans down to cradle her face in his opposite hand and feel the wetness gathered at her chin, the accommodating give of her jaw. ]
You're so good, [ comes first, a ragged groan of endearment. ] You are so good, Alina.
[ But he has not answered her. Nikolai keeps her held there, keeps himself buried in her mouth. The muscles of his thighs are trembling. Watching his words settle, waiting to hear if she'll ask again. ]
[ another moan—this one shorter, helpless. these affirmations are too raw to be anything but truth, even if she'd asked for them. he may be a liar, but he is not lying now. she believes that.
it stokes the fire burning in her skin. in her cunt. ]
(Yes. Yes, I'm wet.)
[ it's not just her cunt. she is drooling. his hand is wet under her chin, and she realizes how her saliva has smeared over it, and when she blinks, her eyes are wet too.
there is also the blaze of light to contend with. the way she scintillates because her amplifiers brush his thigh, because she is so damnably sensitive. one hand slides down to his thigh, tightens its grip on him, digging into the meat of his muscle to steady herself. the pleasure rattles through her whole body, a jolt of need that has her skin crackling. ]
(Please, Kolya. Moi tsar. Let me touch myself. Let me come.)
[ she needs it. yet she flexes her right hand, doesn't reach down yet. wants to do this the way he wants, wants more than her own gratification to be good for him, to let him show her how he likes it, to know that she has been good and given him exactly what he needs. earned this praise, not just been given it without really understanding why or how. ]
Good, [ is not yes. It is dragged helplessly out of him as he looks down into her wet face. Drags his thumb through the saliva collecting there at her mouth before he draws her upwards once more. Never off, only high enough to keep her mouth there at the head of his cock before drawing her back down once more.
Kolya twists in his belly more than his title ever could. Alina is fluttering light and wet eyes and bruised mouth, and she is so, so pliant just now. When he holds her there, his cock nudging at the back of his throat, Nikolai's link with her is all formless praise; it doesn't take shape, only flows from his mind down to her as he fights his way to words. ]
My beautiful wife, [ is such an indulgence. His voice breaks on it, this thing they barely name between them. ] I would keep us here forever if I could.
[ Maybe it will shame him later, the way he is using her mouth. The way he is side-stepping each request. Saints forgive him, the way he loves her fingers digging desperate crescent into his thigh. ]
You're so good, Alina, [ he tells her again. Each time her amplifiers touch his skin the wound at his shoulder jolts sensation; there is a hook there too, and she is holding the string to it as well. ] Can you be good a little longer?
[ that question wrenches a whine out of her. not a real answer, no, but one that makes her hand unfurl and scrape her nails along his thigh, trying to hold onto him to keep resisting the urge to grab for herself. the little warbling noise is muted when he again buries his cock in the back of her throat.
that pained animal cry seems resigned, at first. the wet noises answer him, that almost smacking noise of the saliva caught in the back of her throat by each movement. she wants to be good, a good wife, a good partner, a good fuck. wants to be here forever and give him everything because it's enough to just be wanted.
but his legs are between hers. maybe she can do something to quell the fire temporarily, make it tolerable to stand in, without being less than good.
she shifts, straddling one of them. rubs her wetness against his shin in awkward, stilted movements that are as clumsy as they are ineffecient. it is something, this friction. the length of his shin is hard, not as plush as a fingertip. like ianthe's bony digits. unyielding and brutal, in a way. it won't get her off. but the pressure alleviates some of the ache, and the wet mess she leaves behind is testament to her need. he deserves to feel it.
and all the while, in his thoughts, a chorus of please. ]
Alina, [ is a wreck, vocalized through a ragged groan of sound at the desperate movement of her body. ] Wait for me.
[ The chorus of Alina's pleas, her agonized begging laid so entirely bare to him, turns the clutch of his fingers in her hair to soothing, even as he coaxes her down over him. She is going to shatter him apart. He can think of nothing but her. Of wanting her.
He still makes her wait. Once, twice, three times more, slow drags, with his hand heavy at her nape. And then he drags Alina up, and up, and off, flipping her onto her back. Her face is slick with spit and tears and she is so beautiful it makes him ache as light flutters in erratic waves across her skin. ]
Don't, [ is an immediate, scrabbling stall against what he knows must be instinct, where she must want her hands now. His fingers are already at her mouth, as if to hold his place while their bodies realign, while he gives her his thigh to press up against ] You've been so good, Alina. Hold on for me.
[ he hauls her up by her hair. it's a surprisingly gentle pull, made that way by her easy cooperation, following wherever he guides her, even as her jaw falls slack like she doesn't know what to do with her mouth now that it's empty.
he fills it as her back hits the mattress. fingers, this time, and she sucks eagerly at them as she lifts her hips to grind against his thigh, her hands finding his hips to pull him towards her.
there's a haziness about her movements, the same kind that she had artificially achieved with the jello shots at lottie's party. it makes her eyelids heavy and her body slack. but there is no substance inducing it in her now, and she is not tottering into aleksander's arms for the validation that felipe had denied her.
she whines again, around his fingers this time, her spine arching in some mixture of impatience and a futile attempt at self control. there is a redness in her cheeks that approximates a tantruming child. but as she does, as she grinds herself against the meat of his thigh, she realizes the value of their position and his denial. ]
Inside. [ she shifts her legs. takes his hips between hers, curls one ankle around the back of his thigh to urge him closer. ] Let me finish with you inside. You promised. Please. I've been good. I've been patient.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(cw: refs to misogynistic military culture, some internalized male gaze)
but she has heard stories, in the first army. about the way girls smell and the shape of their cunts and how laborious it is to give them pleasure instead of just taking it.
she wants to croon pretty, feminine noises for him, like gilia or zoya would make. she wants him to think that she tastes good, wants him to only be down there as long as he would like instead of feeling like he needs to finish his chore, wants to come quickly enough to excite him. she wants to be easy to please.
these thoughts only make it more difficult, and the thoughts feed on themselves like a snake that eats its own tail. more than once she is left on the tittering flutter of something — almost there, breath caught in her chest, her whole body arching off the bed. ]
Ah. Saints. Yes, that's — Keep going. [ little whimpers, hungry and aching noises that are soft and small and almost sheepish as her heel digs deeper into his back. only then she huffs and sags again as she loses the thread. she slings her free hand over her eyes, humiliation starting to set in as she says, wobbly, ] I didn't mean that. You don't have to keep — [ how to say it? putting it words makes it worse.
a thought slips across. ]
( He can't be enjoying this. )
i'm back
And he would have kept going, yes, but for the miserable backtracking, and whisper of thought that Nikolai knows immediately wasn't meant for him. It brings his eyes up, lifts his head from its work, the wet slick of her across his mouth and chin obvious even when he turns his face to kiss the inside of her thigh. ]
I am.
[ But what is the likelihood Alina believes him? ]
Look at me, [ he coaxes. ] Do you think I don't want to kiss you here? Make you come apart this way?
yes good
I'm trying. [ to come apart. to finish for him, so that they can move onto other things. things that he will enjoy more than this. ] Not that I have to try. You're good at this. Terribly good at this. I'm the one who's making it difficult.
[ her tongue feels thick in her mouth. like she's bitten it to numbness and now none of her words are right. she takes a breath. tries to start again. ]
I want to come apart for you. I don't know why I'm taking so long. That's my fault. So you don't have to keep trying.
no subject
[ These are all the wrong questions. Alina answers them as if she has been cornered, all the ease and joy stripped out of her voice.
Nikolai levers himself upwards, stretching out alongside her. It is only a pause in the proceedings, a breath of space in which they might reorient themselves. When he puts his hands on her, it is a gentler thing. Fingers at the bend of her waist, arm stretched across her stomach, his ankle hitched around hers. ]
I want to keep trying, [ Nikolai tells her. ] I think my investment speaks for itself.
[ A joke, humor to diminish the way his body has reacted to her. To gentle how obvious his affection must be, written across his face, by making the focus something more physical. The flush spread across his skin. How hard he is already, as gentlemanly as he is attempting to be about it. ]
We can take our time. We can try something else, for a little while, before we do that again.
no subject
[ it slips out compulsively. she raises her hand to his chest, plants it there, stabilizes herself on him.
the dim light glints off the wetness of his chin, and she thinks she likes it, this flush-faced look that is stained by her. she tries to focus on that. kisses him, and tastes herself, and likes that too. the hand at his chest moves to cradle his face.
she channels all her frustration into that kiss, lazily possessive in how her tongue pushes into his mouth. she avails herself of him in a way that anchors her, makes more evident how it is the surrendering of control that leaves room for her to over-think.
a brief flash of her loathing for aleksander for doing this to her stirs. she pushes it down, smothers it.
her other hand reaches down between them, takes him in hand. her grip is loose and light, but it makes her feel better to stroke him—idle, purposeless. both a reminder of what she does to him and a reassurance that she can please him, too. it is more concrete this way, than when his head is between her thighs.
she breaks the kiss, her forehead pressed to his. ] Can I try? [ a reversal. ]
no subject
Here, in this bed, she is clear-eyed. Steadier for their slow kissing and the idle wanderings of their hands. Nikolai lays a hand flat over her chest, fingers resting at the hollow of her throat, over the ragged skin and jutting bone rising from her collar ]
If you'd like to, [ is something near to a yes. ] But not because you think I wasn't enjoying myself.
no subject
[ she frowns—pouts, really. doesn't like the insinuation that it's to distract him from her insecurities and not herself, especially when she remembers trying before. when she has too often imagined the power that lies in unraveling him.
but she'd promised to give him a different gift, here. the chance to unravel her, instead. it's just proven hard to give. much harder than she'd expected, for all her good intentions.
the pout fades as his fingers continue to stroke at her collarbone, however. her breaths grow uneven. the little hum of light under her skin blooming again as the eldritch connection between them blossoms again. like calls to like. she should ask. he should tell her. what is he hiding? what in him is calling to her amplifiers? she doesn't.
instead, ] It would be a nice distraction. We could do it together.
no subject
It's set aside. Nikolai doesn't want to follow that train of thought. ]
I don't want you distracted.
[ Is the first thing he tells her, before amending— ]
Well, not by anything that isn't how handsome I am.
[ Some levity, as Nikolai's fingers resume their idle exploration of this new-found addition. Watches the way light moves under and across her skin. Considers the shallow hitch of her breath. ]
Does this feel good, when I touch you here?
no subject
[ she hisses the word out like a confession, like she's reluctant to make the admission, to give it a voice. her head tips back, lips parted as she sinks into the feeling, even as it scares her. ]
It's ... intense. [ she adds, soft. ] Overwhelming. [ she opens her eyes again, searches his face while she wets her lips. feels out the moment. she shifts onto him, pins his thighs between hers, then starts to scale down his body. she presses her mouth to his chest, charting a course with her lips. she won't let him distract her from her intention, either, no matter how handsome he is. ]
no subject
She is already in motion, quick enough that he can't catch hold of her to kiss. The graze of her mouth makes something in his chest twist. (Affection, yes, but the wound leaps at the proximity too.) ]
Alina, [ is near to caution, even though it comes with a kind of strain. A ragged edge becoming obvious as her trajectory makes itself known. ]
no subject
it is perhaps selfish and a little unfair to hope that she's the first, when he hasn't had the same luxury. but she knows that she will be clumsy, will fumble. she also knows that she feels the same as he does — the urge to overwhelm, to ruin. she wants to know he'll think of her any time his cock is in someone else's mouth. in someone else's anything. ]
no subject
Yes, someone did.
[ Vasily had assumed once that Nikolai was tumbling village girls. That Nikolai was doing what he would have done.
But the only person he’d tumbled had been Dominik. And it is still difficult to think of him, the ugly abruptness of his death. They’d been apart for a long time before that.
This is what he tells her, anticipating Alina’s question: ]
It was years ago.
no subject
she shoves it away. if she can't be the first, she'll just have to try to be the best. ]
Tell me how you like it.
[ this is the last thing she says before she drags her tongue along the side of his cock, loosening her grip only to make room for that exploration. the soft skin is hot to touch. she leaves a wet stripe of saliva behind, settles her mouth against the head of his cock. ]
no subject
Nikolai is quiet for a long moment. Breathes out hard as blood thuds in his ears. Keeps still, despite the restless twitch of his hips, telegraphing more before Nikolai can get his breath. ]
Let me show you.
[ Is likely predictable; Nikolai is always too active by half. One heel finds purchase in her coverlet, giving him enough leverage to prop himself against the pillow.
When he looks at her, it enough to knock the breath from him again.
Still, his hand touches her face, her cheek, as he says— ]
Let me, Alina.
(cw: emeto jokes)
[ there's a question in that wrinkle of her brow. what it means to show her, in this context, but his hand on her cheek seems to answer that. she loosens her grip on him. tentatively surrenders a fraction of her control. ]
Show me. [ she agrees, lips parting, taking the head of his cock between them again. watching him with some anticipatory anxiety that she feels can't possibly look attractive, but that she can't smother nonetheless.
tries to tell herself that if she gags and he's horrified, that it's his own fault. ]
guffaw
His fingers skim along her cheek, slide carefully into her hair. Alina’s permission is something to be taken with care. It’s giving him so much leeway that it would be easy to do some kind of harm.
So they go slowly, regardless of Nikolai’s preferences. His grip in her hair grows very fixed, not quite tight enough to hurt, as he urges her down over him, so, so slowly, mindful of her reaction, and then draws her back up again. A testing sort of thing, an acclimation, before they attempt any part of this in earnest. ]
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alina realizes it then with his cock in her mouth and his hand guiding her by her hair to take more and more of it. her tongue presses up against him and the spit slicks that first plunge to a glide.
the slow way he fills her mouth evokes anticipation of what they are here for, of what she had begged him to finally give her. she can imagine how his cock will stretch her cunt like it stretches the circle of her lips. her kegel muscles clench like her tongue and throat: the former aching with emptiness, the latter threatened by the opposite.
he'd always given the impression of wanting her to lead, of waiting for her permission or instruction or request. but now, with his hand in her hair, she sees how much he, too, likes the act of control.
he'd hidden it well—probably he knew, since he'd known her so much longer than she'd known him, that she had good reason to fear men who sought to control her. but he won't let her overwhelm him like he wants to do to her. he wants to coach and guide her to satisfy him in a way that doesn't force him to surrender like he asks her to.
but she sees him now. and somehow, that revelation slides down her spine with the same smoothness of his cock head reaching the back of her throat. alina's eyes drift shut. the tension leaves her shoulders, her neck, and she gives herself over to him. it is nice, to have a reprieve from having to decide, from having to resist, from having to perform. to let him show her the right way—not to use her, but to take care of them both.
her hands rest on his hips, fingers curling to hold him. her throat relaxes around him, and the little nest of blonde hair tickles her nose when she reaches the root of him. she doesn't move. heat pools between her thighs, turns to a trickle of wetness. a tingling need for attention. she doesn't reach to satisfy it, but savors that feeling and gets herself steadily used to breathing through her nose instead of her mouth. ]
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His fingers shift in her hair. Relaxing and tightening his grip, hand gentle at the nape of her neck. Breathing, just as she is. Labored inhales as the effort of remaining still manifests in fine tremors in his body, a slight shift of his legs beneath her.
It is very different than what this had been with Dominik, once. ]
You are so beautiful, [ presses into her mind, soft as a kiss. A little nonsensical, considering her position, the stretch of her mouth around him and the flush rising in her cheeks. He can still taste her. He tells her again, ] Relax. You have me.
[ The temptation to keep her there, to stay sheathed in her mouth, pressed to the back of her throat, burns like a coal in his belly. Some low, curious part of him wonders how long he could last that way, or is too caught by the appeal of Alina gone pliant under his hands.
But he draws her up once more, up but not off, and sets her down again in a slow, punishing slide of heat. He burns with this too, the effort of the pace he's set, the ebb of sensation building by minor degrees with each drag of her lips and tongue. ]
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the second and third and every iterative drag of her lips is wetter than the last. her saliva clings to his skin, gathers in his hair, coats her lips. the movements are easier, warmer, but also messier, louder. she can hear as well as feel the way his cock fills the hollow at the back of her throat, punching air out of her with a wet sound that makes her thighs clench.
she moans around him. the sound rumbles through his cock. the changed shape of the muscles of her throat, of her tongue, mean she almost gags on that next plunge. everything above her amplifiers briefly tenses at once, like her lungs seizing, but that precariousness only makes her warmer. ]
( I want to touch myself. ) [ it's less deliberate reply and more slip of intention. but now that it's between them, she opens her eyes with some struggle, looking doe-eyed up at him to ask: ] ( Tell me I can. Out loud. I want to hear you, please. Tell me I'm good. )
[ later, this admission will embarrass her. the way the telepathic communication he opens makes it too easy for all her needy pleas to spill over into speech. but her poor neglected cunt throbs with need, and it is only a fraction of the hunger he's awakened in her for further praise. ]
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The rawness of the request that follows catches like a hook in his belly. Alina cannot be aware of how it feels, the way it is almost as if she is pulling on a line, making his entire body leap in reaction to her.
For a moment, he cannot find any words. ]
Are you wet for me? [ is hooked out of him. The bones at her neck graze his thighs as he shifts, as he leans down to cradle her face in his opposite hand and feel the wetness gathered at her chin, the accommodating give of her jaw. ]
You're so good, [ comes first, a ragged groan of endearment. ] You are so good, Alina.
[ But he has not answered her. Nikolai keeps her held there, keeps himself buried in her mouth. The muscles of his thighs are trembling. Watching his words settle, waiting to hear if she'll ask again. ]
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it stokes the fire burning in her skin. in her cunt. ]
( Yes. Yes, I'm wet. )
[ it's not just her cunt. she is drooling. his hand is wet under her chin, and she realizes how her saliva has smeared over it, and when she blinks, her eyes are wet too.
there is also the blaze of light to contend with. the way she scintillates because her amplifiers brush his thigh, because she is so damnably sensitive. one hand slides down to his thigh, tightens its grip on him, digging into the meat of his muscle to steady herself. the pleasure rattles through her whole body, a jolt of need that has her skin crackling. ]
( Please, Kolya. Moi tsar. Let me touch myself. Let me come. )
[ she needs it. yet she flexes her right hand, doesn't reach down yet. wants to do this the way he wants, wants more than her own gratification to be good for him, to let him show her how he likes it, to know that she has been good and given him exactly what he needs. earned this praise, not just been given it without really understanding why or how. ]
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Kolya twists in his belly more than his title ever could. Alina is fluttering light and wet eyes and bruised mouth, and she is so, so pliant just now. When he holds her there, his cock nudging at the back of his throat, Nikolai's link with her is all formless praise; it doesn't take shape, only flows from his mind down to her as he fights his way to words. ]
My beautiful wife, [ is such an indulgence. His voice breaks on it, this thing they barely name between them. ] I would keep us here forever if I could.
[ Maybe it will shame him later, the way he is using her mouth. The way he is side-stepping each request. Saints forgive him, the way he loves her fingers digging desperate crescent into his thigh. ]
You're so good, Alina, [ he tells her again. Each time her amplifiers touch his skin the wound at his shoulder jolts sensation; there is a hook there too, and she is holding the string to it as well. ] Can you be good a little longer?
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that pained animal cry seems resigned, at first. the wet noises answer him, that almost smacking noise of the saliva caught in the back of her throat by each movement. she wants to be good, a good wife, a good partner, a good fuck. wants to be here forever and give him everything because it's enough to just be wanted.
but his legs are between hers. maybe she can do something to quell the fire temporarily, make it tolerable to stand in, without being less than good.
she shifts, straddling one of them. rubs her wetness against his shin in awkward, stilted movements that are as clumsy as they are ineffecient. it is something, this friction. the length of his shin is hard, not as plush as a fingertip. like ianthe's bony digits. unyielding and brutal, in a way. it won't get her off. but the pressure alleviates some of the ache, and the wet mess she leaves behind is testament to her need. he deserves to feel it.
and all the while, in his thoughts, a chorus of please. ]
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[ The chorus of Alina's pleas, her agonized begging laid so entirely bare to him, turns the clutch of his fingers in her hair to soothing, even as he coaxes her down over him. She is going to shatter him apart. He can think of nothing but her. Of wanting her.
He still makes her wait. Once, twice, three times more, slow drags, with his hand heavy at her nape. And then he drags Alina up, and up, and off, flipping her onto her back. Her face is slick with spit and tears and she is so beautiful it makes him ache as light flutters in erratic waves across her skin. ]
Don't, [ is an immediate, scrabbling stall against what he knows must be instinct, where she must want her hands now. His fingers are already at her mouth, as if to hold his place while their bodies realign, while he gives her his thigh to press up against ] You've been so good, Alina. Hold on for me.
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he fills it as her back hits the mattress. fingers, this time, and she sucks eagerly at them as she lifts her hips to grind against his thigh, her hands finding his hips to pull him towards her.
there's a haziness about her movements, the same kind that she had artificially achieved with the jello shots at lottie's party. it makes her eyelids heavy and her body slack. but there is no substance inducing it in her now, and she is not tottering into aleksander's arms for the validation that felipe had denied her.
she whines again, around his fingers this time, her spine arching in some mixture of impatience and a futile attempt at self control. there is a redness in her cheeks that approximates a tantruming child. but as she does, as she grinds herself against the meat of his thigh, she realizes the value of their position and his denial. ]
Inside. [ she shifts her legs. takes his hips between hers, curls one ankle around the back of his thigh to urge him closer. ] Let me finish with you inside. You promised. Please. I've been good. I've been patient.
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(cw: dubcon re: unsafe sex)
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