[ 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. ]
[ teasing him comes as naturally as breathing, mumbled against his lips as they slot together — comfortably, now, instead of frantically. it is the first time she's had this kind of languid, soothing reprieve in the wake of sex.
but it's also true. that she wants to keep the mark of him on her, that she wants to let his sweat and semen seep into her skin until he's as indelibly etched into her as her sins are.
the crown of bones around her throat make for a poor pillow, though, and she steadily shifts to account for that. to help him find a more comfortable way to rest.
eventually, rolling onto their sides and then nikolai onto his back, she tucks her head into the crook of his shoulder and finds this, at least, is still comfortable. that she can trace patterns in his skin, that she can guide his hand to find where he's left stains in hers. that these moments of gathering their breath can be quiet and peaceful and not broken by her mistakes. ]
I like this. [ she peers up at him through dark lashes, tears drying. she offers this as a sort of compromise: resigning herself to the idea of the banya and the fact that she will want to go, the drying sweat will make it sound necessary and welcome, but giving voice at least to the reason for her reluctance. ] Being yours.
[ For all his overconfidence, all his bravado, Nikolai is not unaware of how once unlikely it was that he would hear such words from Alina.
He'd held that uncertainty in his mind even stood on the altar alongside her. Perhaps Alina would never want him the way he wanted her. Nikolai had understood it, resigned himself to it. Marriages had been founded on less warmth than the pair of them had for each other.
Here, in the wreck they've made of this bed, tucked in alongside each other as Nikolai drags one of the rumpled blankets up and over them. ]
You're always mine, [ He tells her, the depth of his feeling so much easier to parse in this moment, made plain in the aftermath of all they've done together. ] Just as I'm yours. It doesn't matter what's cleared away in the banya.
[ Would it be easier with a ring? He'd given her such a massive, gleaming weapon of a thing, but that was a Lantsov heirloom. What would Nikolai had given her, if he had been free to choose? ]
[ he says it with such certainty. alina blooms with it, flushed warm with a sense of comfort and security that is borrowed entirely from his want of her. he has seen some of the ugliest pieces of her and refused to turn away. ]
Mm. Convincing.
[ conceding the point, she lifts her chin. kisses under his. a lazy, affectionate thing that feels so easy to take now. it's short-lived, as she tucks herself back at his side. she is bleary-eyed still, exhausted in ways that stretch beyond the physical, and the blanket is warm like his body.
her heart slows its hammer, her eyes drift shut. she thinks in the last moments before oblivion that she could be happy, really properly happy, being his little wife. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
[ 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. ]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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.
no subject
[ 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. ]
no subject
[ teasing him comes as naturally as breathing, mumbled against his lips as they slot together — comfortably, now, instead of frantically. it is the first time she's had this kind of languid, soothing reprieve in the wake of sex.
but it's also true. that she wants to keep the mark of him on her, that she wants to let his sweat and semen seep into her skin until he's as indelibly etched into her as her sins are.
the crown of bones around her throat make for a poor pillow, though, and she steadily shifts to account for that. to help him find a more comfortable way to rest.
eventually, rolling onto their sides and then nikolai onto his back, she tucks her head into the crook of his shoulder and finds this, at least, is still comfortable. that she can trace patterns in his skin, that she can guide his hand to find where he's left stains in hers. that these moments of gathering their breath can be quiet and peaceful and not broken by her mistakes. ]
I like this. [ she peers up at him through dark lashes, tears drying. she offers this as a sort of compromise: resigning herself to the idea of the banya and the fact that she will want to go, the drying sweat will make it sound necessary and welcome, but giving voice at least to the reason for her reluctance. ] Being yours.
no subject
He'd held that uncertainty in his mind even stood on the altar alongside her. Perhaps Alina would never want him the way he wanted her. Nikolai had understood it, resigned himself to it. Marriages had been founded on less warmth than the pair of them had for each other.
Here, in the wreck they've made of this bed, tucked in alongside each other as Nikolai drags one of the rumpled blankets up and over them. ]
You're always mine, [ He tells her, the depth of his feeling so much easier to parse in this moment, made plain in the aftermath of all they've done together. ] Just as I'm yours. It doesn't matter what's cleared away in the banya.
[ Would it be easier with a ring? He'd given her such a massive, gleaming weapon of a thing, but that was a Lantsov heirloom. What would Nikolai had given her, if he had been free to choose? ]
no subject
Mm. Convincing.
[ conceding the point, she lifts her chin. kisses under his. a lazy, affectionate thing that feels so easy to take now. it's short-lived, as she tucks herself back at his side. she is bleary-eyed still, exhausted in ways that stretch beyond the physical, and the blanket is warm like his body.
her heart slows its hammer, her eyes drift shut. she thinks in the last moments before oblivion that she could be happy, really properly happy, being his little wife. ]