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.
Look at you, [ is not assent, regardless of how unsteady his voice becomes. He maintains space between them only barely, the dig of Alina's heel a painfully tempting invitation. His fingers press down over her tongue, words thick with affection when he says, ] My beautiful little wife.
[ His palm flattens across her stomach, pressing her down against the bed. It is scant distance, just enough for him to reach downwards, drag fingers through the wet warmth of her. He can hear his pulse beating in his ears.
When he takes his fingers from her mouth, it is only to kiss her. Deep and insistent, mingling the taste of himself, the lingering taste of her. Staying there, kissing her as if to lay a claim, as he touches her in light, idle sweeps. ]
I am so... [ is a trailing breath against her mouth, something he means to say and stops, because he wants her to be present, her eyes clear, to hear it. And right now, he wants her this way, biddable and easy underneath his mouth and fingers. ] You're radiant. You're so good.
[ Even the incidental contact of her thigh against him had felt like too much to bear. She is so wet under his fingers that he could simply sink into her. Nikolai knows this. ]
You want me here? [ against her mouth, his palm flattening over her cunt as his fingers circle her bruised lips. ] Did you want to keep me here?
[ his every compliment stirs her. wife, she's his little wife, and he is pleased with the fact, not stuck with her, not disappointed. she is what he wants — as she is, bones and all. it is too good to be true, but she is too dizzy with arousal to refute it, to do anything but accept it.
little twitches of her hips to meet his fingers, to rock into his touch. she savors the heat, the friction. it feels like a dam breaking to finally have him touching her cunt again. but then his hand presses flat to cover her folds, and she squirms, trying to wring more out of him. trying to grind herself against the meat of his palm, and failing.
without his fingers in her mouth, her words are clearer. not crisp, though, half-slurred by wanting. ]
Yes. Please. [ she gets her arms up around his shoulders. her teeth dig into his lip. ] I want to feel you. I want to be full of you. Forever. [ that's what he'd said, wasn't it? keeping her here forever. in that position, his cock down her throat; but also in this bed, at his side. ]
[ Please, she says. Alina has been saying please for what feels like an eternity, and Nikolai wants to give her everything as much as he wants to keep her here. ]
You have me, forever.
[ Until the end of his natural life, at least. He will die, and he will die long before her.
Nikolai doesn't say this now. It is a shadow passing at the edge of his thoughts, as he kisses her, as she squirms beneath his palm. ]
We'll try, [ is acquiescence against all good judgement, but he wants— ] Because you're so good. Because I want you.
[ His voice dips, ragged, as Nikolai lifts his palm from her cunt. It is slick when he sets it to her stomach, pinning her there even as she clings to him by the shoulders. ]
[ her hips rock, trying to wriggle to close the distance between them as her legs pull at him, trying to draw him into her. but it's a futile effort. she knows it. one palm rests flat over his wound, the other trailing towards his hair. desperate to just feel him, at least. ]
Then have me. [ she looks up at him, holds his gaze, and for all her eyes look slightly out of focus, her pupils big and her face red and wet, there is something painfully honest in them. like he has wrung that vulnerability out of her by driving away her good sense. ] Take me. I'm ready.
But he lets it sit for now, keeps his hand over her belly as he sinks down into her. It's a slow slide by necessity; the break between Alina's mouth on him and the wet heat of her cunt now has not been truly enough for Nikolai to shake off the razor edge he'd balanced upon.
And it is important, even with all her assurances, that he doesn't spill inside of her. Not this first time. Even though he murmurs, breathless, ] What was it you told me once? That when we return to Ravka you'd always be full of me? That under your skirts my spend would be leaking down your thigh?
[ An invocation like a promise, even if he can't give that to her here. ]
[ all the breath leaves her lungs like it needs to make room for his cock inside of her. she writhes against his little grip on her, trying to rise up to meet him, to take him faster, but he holds her steady, makes it so slow that she feels every inch of her slick muscle yielding to him, the sweet stretching open that feels like heaven.
it is as good as she expected and better. blindingly satisfying to have him rooted inside of her, as deep as he had been in her throat and more, and as he goads her with the filthy things she'd told him before, her first instinct is to whimper. ]
Yes. Saints, yes. [ caution gone, abandoned, and she will feel foolish and untrustworthy for that later, but in this moment, she wants nothing more than that. as if he might scour any trace of aleksander from inside of her by repeating the same mistake. ] I'll keep you like this. [ her legs lock around him. ] Day and night. I want to feel it and remember I'm yours.
[ A ring, he'd given her a ring once, but they hadn't kissed then. Everything haw tangled, the old and the new. Her thighs flex around his hips and he has to hide his face in her neck with the bones digging into his chest. It's good. It's grounding. It keeps him from spilling over into her. ]
I won't last.
[ How could he? ]
Look at me, [ he tells her, as his head lifts. ] Alina, can you hold off just a little longer?
[ It would be an unfair request, even if he hadn't reached down to press fingers to her, spark all this sensation higher. ]
[ she cries out as his chest settles against hers, the amplifiers digging cruelly into him like spines trying to fend him off. her whole body blooms with light, jerks up against him. panic spikes too, that he'll tumble over that edge without her.
she clings tighter, forgetting the bruising that aleksander's bones will leave in him. holds until he draws back, lifts his head to put room between them, and she mewls a helpless complaint right up until his fingers find her folds.
reeling, she clutches his shoulder for stability. ]
I can't. It's too much. [ her heels slide down his thighs. a scramble to hold herself against him, to rock her hips up to try and take more of him. to elicit some movement beyond just his presence filling her. ] Kolya.
I have you, [ he soothes, softly against her mouth. And he does have her, his hand pinning her still against the bed. ] I’ll give you what you want.
[ When he moves, this too is done slowly. It is not unlike how he used her mouth; it is the same purposeful drag, the same downward slide, pressing deep into her. They’ve made this easy for themselves. Alina has made it easy, giving over to him so fully. The weight of this trust is hovering, near to hand when Nikolai can think of something other than Alina flushed beneath him, eyes wet with tears, begging as he drives down into her.
Maybe they won’t do this for long. Maybe only long enough for Alina to fall apart, and for Nikolai to angle himself to follow after her. It doesn’t matter, he knows. Like kissing her, it is a boundary that will reform to accommodate how much they both want to return to this. ]
[ the steady rock of his hips reduces her to whimpers, but it at least stops her squirming efforts to get more from him than he can give. her head lolls back against the pillow, and maybe she really is a saint after all because this certainly feels like something holy.
the weight of his palm on her abdomen makes her feel small—not in a way that diminishes, but in a way that reassures. he has this under control. she can let him take care of it, of her. he wants that responsibility. she wonders, distantly, if he can feel himself as he thrusts into her. it feels like he fills her so deeply, so fully, that each thrust must push against his palm, strain against the confines of her body.
she doesn't last. she hadn't been lying. the touch of his hand, the friction of his cock stretching her—it's too good, too much, and she is wholly opened to it. her breath catches in her throat, and though she tries to cry out as her muscles wind suddenly tight, it is a wordless shout, as her lungs squeeze as tight as her cunt does, pushing all the air out just like she tries to push him out and hold him inside at the same time. her cunt wrings hot and tight around him, a sudden vise.
it isn't intentional, the way her legs tighten around him too, trying to draw him deeper. utterly unconscious, driven by animal need and the natural tensing of muscle. and later, she will feel guilty for it, wondering if she was not more like aleksander than she wanted to admit, making difficult her assurance that nikolai could safely pull out before he finished.
because whether that part of her was at the forefront now or not, some part of her did want that. she wanted him to fill her, mark her, wash away any trace of what had come before. ]
It is a low, wrenched moan, cracked loose from his chest. It is just sound too, a passing collection of syllables that may well contain part of her name. He drives into her, and her whole body welcomes him. Nikolai thrusts down and Alina begs for more without a single word, with the clutch her hands and her thighs and her cunt.
Maybe he was made for her. It is a passing, nonsensical thought. Nikolai has been made for so many things, has forged himself into so many shapes. Is this not the most vital among them?
He says her name. Once. Twice.
A third time, desperate, against her mouth as the orgasm holds Alina taut and shuddering beneath him and Nikolai has to consider his promise, what they've exchanged, and that he needs—
When he wrenches his hips free, even Nikolai cannot be certain it is entirely in time. His come streaks across her belly, splatter arching up her chest, and it is some kind of proof, but Nikolai isn't sure it's enough.
He can't catch his breath. He isn't certain Alina can speak.
Nikolai's palm smooths the slick mess across her stomach as he leans down to kiss her slack mouth. ]
[ there is a flare of light deep in her chest, his steady thrusts holding her at that apex of her orgasm for as long as they last. each one cracking her wide open, sending a fresh flutter of ecstasy through her slack expression, for once unshuttered.
his spend hot on her belly almost makes up for the sudden loss as he pulls out of her. she wants to weep with it, but when his palm flattens over her abdomen and smears the mess into her skin, it's like salve to a wound. it lays claim to her, if not in a way they'll regret later. she tips her head, deepening the kiss when he brings it to her, all sharp teeth and lazy hunger.
it should have been like this, she thinks as the fog of her arousal begins to clear, sated to sleepiness for the time being. this should have been the first time she'd had someone inside of her. not pressed to a brick wall with shadows splaying her legs.
she draws out of the kiss, blinking blearily up at nikolai, taking in his red face and his wet mouth and his unfocused eyes. the mess of his hair and the fine sheen of sweat that makes him glow, pink where he isn't pale. she loves him like this, breathless and wrecked. she strokes the side of his face, kisses him again, hungrier this time, eyes wetter for realizing what a terrible mistake she'd made with aleksander, for feeling that wound finally start to stitch closed by tiny measures. ]
Nikolai kisses her as he drags the mess of his palms across her skin, her belly to her hips, his softening cock pressed against the inside of her thigh. His body falls into hers, pinning her down into the mattress as he kisses her through the shuddering aftermath. His opposite hand threads into her hair, heel of his palm against her temple. When they break for breath, the first thing he says is her name.
As if it is all he can say. (What else is there but her?)
But by and by— ]
My little wife, [ is such a soft, sweet endearment, even if it is only true here in this shared bed behind that closed door. ] Alina. How do you feel?
[ All this against her mouth, only a breath away from those lazy, open-mouthed kisses that could so easily bear them both down into sleep if they allow it. ]
[ my little wife, he says, and alina melts into him. her arms settle around his shoulders, her legs tangle around him to squeeze him against her. he is warm and close and hers, a bulwark against the cold of the bedroom. her mouth melts against his, dizzy but resurfacing. each kiss has more space between it than the last. ]
Good. [ she mumbles, soft. tears still brimming, relieved. thinks again, it should have been like this. it should always be like this. ] Perfect. Thank you. [ another kiss. then, quieter, ] Thank you.
[ she likes being his little wife. likes sinking into trust, into that feeling of safety that is so unfamiliar and terrifying. she is embarrassed, as she comes back to herself, but even as she blinks him back into focus, she sees him there with her. just as drunk and stupid on their own lovemaking. and she smiles, drawing one arm back from around his neck and shoulders to instead touch his face like she wants to bottle it, savor it. ]
[ There are things he should be doing. They both know that. It would be true even in Ravka. But here, there is nothing to keep him from stretching out bonelessly over her, fitting their bodies together. Making himself into an anchor for her, as she finds her way back to herself. ]
I'll come to the banya with you, after we nap.
[ As if this too is decided, as if they have done this often enough that there is habit to it, routine. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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. ]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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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[ His palm flattens across her stomach, pressing her down against the bed. It is scant distance, just enough for him to reach downwards, drag fingers through the wet warmth of her. He can hear his pulse beating in his ears.
When he takes his fingers from her mouth, it is only to kiss her. Deep and insistent, mingling the taste of himself, the lingering taste of her. Staying there, kissing her as if to lay a claim, as he touches her in light, idle sweeps. ]
I am so... [ is a trailing breath against her mouth, something he means to say and stops, because he wants her to be present, her eyes clear, to hear it. And right now, he wants her this way, biddable and easy underneath his mouth and fingers. ] You're radiant. You're so good.
[ Even the incidental contact of her thigh against him had felt like too much to bear. She is so wet under his fingers that he could simply sink into her. Nikolai knows this. ]
You want me here? [ against her mouth, his palm flattening over her cunt as his fingers circle her bruised lips. ] Did you want to keep me here?
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little twitches of her hips to meet his fingers, to rock into his touch. she savors the heat, the friction. it feels like a dam breaking to finally have him touching her cunt again. but then his hand presses flat to cover her folds, and she squirms, trying to wring more out of him. trying to grind herself against the meat of his palm, and failing.
without his fingers in her mouth, her words are clearer. not crisp, though, half-slurred by wanting. ]
Yes. Please. [ she gets her arms up around his shoulders. her teeth dig into his lip. ] I want to feel you. I want to be full of you. Forever. [ that's what he'd said, wasn't it? keeping her here forever. in that position, his cock down her throat; but also in this bed, at his side. ]
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You have me, forever.
[ Until the end of his natural life, at least. He will die, and he will die long before her.
Nikolai doesn't say this now. It is a shadow passing at the edge of his thoughts, as he kisses her, as she squirms beneath his palm. ]
We'll try, [ is acquiescence against all good judgement, but he wants— ] Because you're so good. Because I want you.
[ His voice dips, ragged, as Nikolai lifts his palm from her cunt. It is slick when he sets it to her stomach, pinning her there even as she clings to him by the shoulders. ]
I wanted you for longer than you know.
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Then have me. [ she looks up at him, holds his gaze, and for all her eyes look slightly out of focus, her pupils big and her face red and wet, there is something painfully honest in them. like he has wrung that vulnerability out of her by driving away her good sense. ] Take me. I'm ready.
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But he lets it sit for now, keeps his hand over her belly as he sinks down into her. It's a slow slide by necessity; the break between Alina's mouth on him and the wet heat of her cunt now has not been truly enough for Nikolai to shake off the razor edge he'd balanced upon.
And it is important, even with all her assurances, that he doesn't spill inside of her. Not this first time. Even though he murmurs, breathless, ] What was it you told me once? That when we return to Ravka you'd always be full of me? That under your skirts my spend would be leaking down your thigh?
[ An invocation like a promise, even if he can't give that to her here. ]
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it is as good as she expected and better. blindingly satisfying to have him rooted inside of her, as deep as he had been in her throat and more, and as he goads her with the filthy things she'd told him before, her first instinct is to whimper. ]
Yes. Saints, yes. [ caution gone, abandoned, and she will feel foolish and untrustworthy for that later, but in this moment, she wants nothing more than that. as if he might scour any trace of aleksander from inside of her by repeating the same mistake. ] I'll keep you like this. [ her legs lock around him. ] Day and night. I want to feel it and remember I'm yours.
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I won't last.
[ How could he? ]
Look at me, [ he tells her, as his head lifts. ] Alina, can you hold off just a little longer?
[ It would be an unfair request, even if he hadn't reached down to press fingers to her, spark all this sensation higher. ]
Hold on for me.
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she clings tighter, forgetting the bruising that aleksander's bones will leave in him. holds until he draws back, lifts his head to put room between them, and she mewls a helpless complaint right up until his fingers find her folds.
reeling, she clutches his shoulder for stability. ]
I can't. It's too much. [ her heels slide down his thighs. a scramble to hold herself against him, to rock her hips up to try and take more of him. to elicit some movement beyond just his presence filling her. ] Kolya.
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[ When he moves, this too is done slowly. It is not unlike how he used her mouth; it is the same purposeful drag, the same downward slide, pressing deep into her. They’ve made this easy for themselves. Alina has made it easy, giving over to him so fully. The weight of this trust is hovering, near to hand when Nikolai can think of something other than Alina flushed beneath him, eyes wet with tears, begging as he drives down into her.
Maybe they won’t do this for long. Maybe only long enough for Alina to fall apart, and for Nikolai to angle himself to follow after her. It doesn’t matter, he knows. Like kissing her, it is a boundary that will reform to accommodate how much they both want to return to this. ]
(cw: dubcon re: unsafe sex)
the weight of his palm on her abdomen makes her feel small—not in a way that diminishes, but in a way that reassures. he has this under control. she can let him take care of it, of her. he wants that responsibility. she wonders, distantly, if he can feel himself as he thrusts into her. it feels like he fills her so deeply, so fully, that each thrust must push against his palm, strain against the confines of her body.
she doesn't last. she hadn't been lying. the touch of his hand, the friction of his cock stretching her—it's too good, too much, and she is wholly opened to it. her breath catches in her throat, and though she tries to cry out as her muscles wind suddenly tight, it is a wordless shout, as her lungs squeeze as tight as her cunt does, pushing all the air out just like she tries to push him out and hold him inside at the same time. her cunt wrings hot and tight around him, a sudden vise.
it isn't intentional, the way her legs tighten around him too, trying to draw him deeper. utterly unconscious, driven by animal need and the natural tensing of muscle. and later, she will feel guilty for it, wondering if she was not more like aleksander than she wanted to admit, making difficult her assurance that nikolai could safely pull out before he finished.
because whether that part of her was at the forefront now or not, some part of her did want that. she wanted him to fill her, mark her, wash away any trace of what had come before. ]
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It is a low, wrenched moan, cracked loose from his chest. It is just sound too, a passing collection of syllables that may well contain part of her name. He drives into her, and her whole body welcomes him. Nikolai thrusts down and Alina begs for more without a single word, with the clutch her hands and her thighs and her cunt.
Maybe he was made for her. It is a passing, nonsensical thought. Nikolai has been made for so many things, has forged himself into so many shapes. Is this not the most vital among them?
He says her name. Once. Twice.
A third time, desperate, against her mouth as the orgasm holds Alina taut and shuddering beneath him and Nikolai has to consider his promise, what they've exchanged, and that he needs—
When he wrenches his hips free, even Nikolai cannot be certain it is entirely in time. His come streaks across her belly, splatter arching up her chest, and it is some kind of proof, but Nikolai isn't sure it's enough.
He can't catch his breath. He isn't certain Alina can speak.
Nikolai's palm smooths the slick mess across her stomach as he leans down to kiss her slack mouth. ]
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his spend hot on her belly almost makes up for the sudden loss as he pulls out of her. she wants to weep with it, but when his palm flattens over her abdomen and smears the mess into her skin, it's like salve to a wound. it lays claim to her, if not in a way they'll regret later. she tips her head, deepening the kiss when he brings it to her, all sharp teeth and lazy hunger.
it should have been like this, she thinks as the fog of her arousal begins to clear, sated to sleepiness for the time being. this should have been the first time she'd had someone inside of her. not pressed to a brick wall with shadows splaying her legs.
she draws out of the kiss, blinking blearily up at nikolai, taking in his red face and his wet mouth and his unfocused eyes. the mess of his hair and the fine sheen of sweat that makes him glow, pink where he isn't pale. she loves him like this, breathless and wrecked. she strokes the side of his face, kisses him again, hungrier this time, eyes wetter for realizing what a terrible mistake she'd made with aleksander, for feeling that wound finally start to stitch closed by tiny measures. ]
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Nikolai kisses her as he drags the mess of his palms across her skin, her belly to her hips, his softening cock pressed against the inside of her thigh. His body falls into hers, pinning her down into the mattress as he kisses her through the shuddering aftermath. His opposite hand threads into her hair, heel of his palm against her temple. When they break for breath, the first thing he says is her name.
As if it is all he can say. (What else is there but her?)
But by and by— ]
My little wife, [ is such a soft, sweet endearment, even if it is only true here in this shared bed behind that closed door. ] Alina. How do you feel?
[ All this against her mouth, only a breath away from those lazy, open-mouthed kisses that could so easily bear them both down into sleep if they allow it. ]
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Good. [ she mumbles, soft. tears still brimming, relieved. thinks again, it should have been like this. it should always be like this. ] Perfect. Thank you. [ another kiss. then, quieter, ] Thank you.
[ she likes being his little wife. likes sinking into trust, into that feeling of safety that is so unfamiliar and terrifying. she is embarrassed, as she comes back to herself, but even as she blinks him back into focus, she sees him there with her. just as drunk and stupid on their own lovemaking. and she smiles, drawing one arm back from around his neck and shoulders to instead touch his face like she wants to bottle it, savor it. ]
Tell me you don't have to go right away.
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[ There are things he should be doing. They both know that. It would be true even in Ravka. But here, there is nothing to keep him from stretching out bonelessly over her, fitting their bodies together. Making himself into an anchor for her, as she finds her way back to herself. ]
I'll come to the banya with you, after we nap.
[ As if this too is decided, as if they have done this often enough that there is habit to it, routine. ]
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