( he moans into the pain—this, at least, hasn't changed. the bright, red flare of it just as searing as the press of her lips. the hungry little growl caught somewhere in her throat as those clever little fingers peel open his shirt like she's unwrapping a gift that's been left just for her.
she's trying to overwhelm him, he registers distantly, desire spilling through his veins like a fever, like her honeyed sunlight, and for once he's inclined to let her have everything. )
[ the noises he makes stir her blood. a sudden spike of hunger — alina had always categorized hunger by an ache, but this is different. it's a frenzy. a desperate scramble.
her fingernails scrape his skin in her eagerness to peel him out of his shirt. she shoves it down his shoulders and backs him the few shuffled steps towards the mattress. it feels easy and direct to pick a path for now, but considering her next steps leaves her spoiled for choice.
she breaks the kiss, her smile breathless. a quick scan of his face. his cheeks are flushed and his lips swollen. she likes this look on him. ]
You'd let me do whatever I want to you, wouldn't you? [ knowing this delights her. more than it should. it feels good, having the same power over him that he'd had over her. the thrill of novelty, made stronger by the fact that this time he'd submitted himself to it willingly. ]
I'm afraid your options are somewhat limited. ( he murmurs, breath brushing against her lips.
an unfortunate consequence of their surroundings but nothing that can't be overcome. as it stands, he's already leaning into her, trying to maximize all points of contact. it's not the "out of your skin with desperation" sensation of whatever he'd been given at the soup kitchen months ago, but there's a definite itch of need. )
[ her breath is thin and reedy, edging towards a whine. no amount of pressure between them hits where she wants friction right now, and her need is only mounting. her hands fall to his hips, still him. ]
Greedy. [ she warns him. ] We may not be spoiled for choice, and I may not have your dexterity in summoning, but you will still wait for what I give you.
[ she bites his lip again, sharper this time. a warning. she won't let him rut his way to completion against her before she even gets her pants off. she won't let him have any pleasure while she can't take any. no amount of medication can make this thing between them feel like any less of a battle. ]
Anything I give you. [ their last time together — as themselves — stains this encounter too. the kiss she'd demanded of him, when he had not so much as kissed her when he'd set the nichevo'ya on her. that mention of summoning. that one, at least, gives her an idea. she lifts one hand, brings her fingers to his lips, gently probing. testing. ] Open.
this feels familiar in a way he can't quite place. a false memory that overlays the truth. she had commanded him like this before, in that other life, and he'd bent so easily to her will, as natural as breathing.
his mouth parts easily around the pressure of her fingers, eyes skating over her face. she's in the sort of mood that makes her difficult to predict. all bruising teeth and bristling anger. )
Do you worst.
( lightly, almost coaxing, because even the drugs haven't robbed him of a lifetime's worth of insight. )
[ after his tongue pushes her fingers back out to make room for those last three words, she forces them vigorously back in. a nearly violent thrust. less fascinated, more possessive. ]
Maybe I'll stuff every greedy hole of yours full. You liked doing it to me well enough. I'm sure the nichevo'ya would oblige. [ her fingers twist sideways, and she curls them to hook against the side of his cheek, tugging lightly, tooling with him. her voice is rough and quiet, mesmerized by entertaining the possibilities. by what she could do. ] Men have this one spot inside. Andy showed it to me. I could make you scream.
[ she pulls her fingers free of his mouth. trails the wet path down his bare chest, over the sunburst burn scar she'd left in him. the wet trail of her fingers traces the edges of its outline, admiring the mark she'd left on him. she leans in to kiss the hollow of his neck. ]
Or I've heard that people here like to drip hot wax on each other. They savor the little burns. [ her fingertips sear lightly at the surface of his skin, elsewhere on his chest. soft, light. just a flash of heat. a similar effect — as vanessa had told her, another sensation, something to draw out wonder at what the body could feel. ] Would you like that, Sasha?
( he lifts an eyebrow as if to say that he's not the only one that's greedy. )
I'm familiar with it.
( she's expecting him to protest, he realizes. to baulk at these promises that feel so much like threats. but there's a space where the worry should occupy. a wound slowly scabbing over.
that name, though. that sends a thrill through him that's harder to pin down. sasha is a name for something more than just lovers or beloved enemies — especially when it's delivered in that eager, ravenous tone. )
And you've never had much trouble there.
( it was never the ability that lacked, only ever the drive to do it and evidently she now has that in spades.
his nose brushes against her hair. breathes her in and holds the scent of her in his lungs like he would keep another part of her with him given the chance. )
[ this time, when her fingertips land on his chest, the burn is a little stronger. punishing. it sears. ]
Would you like that, I said.
[ and he hadn't answered. only teased her. she should expect as much. he'd been like that before, when their memories were muddled, too. he may submit to her, but he'll never be spineless. ]
( he manages to bite back a hiss, but it somehow doesn't dampen — doesn't even come close to it — that yearning blossoming somewhere beneath his chest bones. )
I'm here, aren't I? ( his hand lifts to cover hers, fingers lacing together. ) Ready to break for you.
I want to hear a straight answer, moy merzost. [ her abomination. her monster. her magic. a pet name that is sweet and terrible, just like he can be. she digs her nails in lightly, though it is nothing next to the strength of suns burning under her fingertips — which is, admittedly, only enough to redden the skin for a time. a stinging, lingering pain, but not a real burn. not the kind she'd left him with before. ] Show me that you know how to behave.
( he breaks off, breath rasping out of him, and he's just—he's exhausted. has been for so long that he can't truly remember what it had felt like to be anything other than bone-weary. those old fears and older want he has done everything in his power to push down and forget. )
[ a little thrill rolls through her, hearing him beg. sucking the breath out of his lungs. in complying, she chases more of it. she lifts one finger to lightly singe his lip — like a flash of sunburn. like a drop of hot wax.
then in the dip of his collarbone. down over the sunburst she carved into him with sunlight. tiny, brief touches of heat. she drinks in every twitch, every shudder of his breath, eyes shining with wondrous delight. ]
Look at you, moy yeretushko. [ he looks so pretty this way. helpless. or maybe it's not that at all — maybe it's that she feels powerful, untouchable. he had brought her so low, but she can do the same to him. ]
he takes all of it because there's really no option but to take it all, and there is something close to peace in accepting this fact. a weight that drops from his shoulders even as those little flickers of pain makes his nerves sing. it keeps him focused: on her and her dark, gleaming eyes as they watch him.
oh.
a hoarse, pained sound stuttering out of his chest. sheared away before it can become a full-blown sob. )
[ she backs him towards the lone window in this cramped one-room box she had packed him into. lets him lean in the sill so she can press open-mouthed kisses to each of the rosy sunburns in the shape of her fingerprints that she leaves behind on him.
her fingertips continue downward. over his abdomen. against his hip. slow enough to ensure he focuses on each one. then she sinks to her knees, paying close attention there, too, with her tongue, before the waistband of his slacks gives him a break to catch his breath.
she reaches up for the belt, meeting his gaze. the stiff jut of his erection shows proudly through the front of his pants. she has been in this position before, with him. when she wasn't in control. it feels like returning home to the little palace had — revisiting all the little corners, all the little hurts he'd inflicted. this time, though, she's the one in control. ]
( this abrupt shifting of gears is more than a little disorientating. confusion etches his brow as she sinks to her knees, and she isn't the only one that remembers the last time they were like this.
he draws in a shaky breath that does absolutely nothing to steady him. )
Alina — ( he starts, then stops because he honestly has no idea what he wants to say next. if he should be saying anything at all when she seems to know exactly what she wants and his only job is to apparently lean back and take whatever she gives him. )
Is there something else you'd like to ask for, Sasha?
[ she scrapes her teeth across the exposed bone of his hip as she patiently unbuckles and unloops his belt, rolls it carefully — it's one of the nice leather ones she'd bought for him, after all — and sets it aside.
she looks plainly up at him while she unfastens the button and zipper of his trousers, easing them and his underwear too down around his ankles. that glint is still there, in her eye. starving and steely. ]
( it's an order couched in a question, casually issued like she can't imagine he'd possibly disobey her.
his lips part, fingers flexing at his side like he's testing a theory, reminding himself that nothing of real consequence has changed. that he's still himself in all the ways that matters. )
Please — I want... ( draws his tongue across his teeth. ) I want you.
[ she reaches for his shoe. picks up his foot to ease it off, then the sock. she'll have him bare if she can get him. the neutrality of her expression is wasted when his cock is jutting between them. she hasn't touched it yet, tells herself she won't until he says the words. ]
Unless there's something particular you want from me. You're usually so eloquent.
( he makes a frustrated — perhaps even a little panicked — noise in the back of his throat. it isn't simply that she's going to make him say it. it's that he remembers, rather vividly, her doing this thing before and how much he'd enjoyed crumbling. )
You don't want me eloquent.
( it's one of the strangest things about her, honestly. how little she seems to care about the polish. )
[ once he's bare, she settles her palms on his thighs. her face is near enough to his cock that on every exhale, she can feel how her breath stirs around the obstruction. ]
I don't want you coy, either.
[ the playfulness leaks out of her expression. a ship with a hole in it. her nails dig in a little. ]
You want to cum, don't you? You want me to suck your cock. Say it. [ she wets her lips, hungrier for the plea than the actual act. ] Say, "Please, Sankta, suck my cock."
( the hand not currently gripping the window sill like it's the only thing keeping him upright settles in her hair. cautious, careful. she's not permitted him to touch her yet. )
Please, Sankta Alina, Daughter of the Fold, suck my cock. Make me cum. Even though I am so very unworthy.
[ her hand shoots up, grabs his hand at the wrist. she fixes him with a sharp, joyless expression. it's perhaps unfair. she tries to think of how things had been that week, the one they'd shared together in utter belief that this was the way things were meant to be. the only peaceful week of her life she can recall. had he been so contrary then? what she sees as critical now, had it then been playful? she hesitates, trying to decide.
the pills were supposed to make it easier. but they won't do anything for her memories, the way they taint every gesture. ]
And for a Submissive, you have a smart mouth. Maybe I should slap it.
[ it is not quite asking, as crais had urged her to do. but announcing her intention, at least, will give him the opportunity to rethink his answer if he doesn't want that. ]
( he goes very still. it only takes a moment to realize how he's overstepped — the shadow of menace undercutting her words suggests that he has one chance to fix this and one chance only.
[ his apology troubles her. it feels wrong, somehow. ill-suited to him, yes, but more than that. it feels too fully like their positions have reversed. like she is the monster here, and he is more helpless than she'd ever been. more vulnerable.
a shocked silence follows. she is not quick enough to console him, not quick enough to respond because despite the ease she feels in fulfilling her role, she is not at ease with what it means for the two of them. she does not want to break him. ]
It's alright. You're learning. [ she loosens her grip on his thigh. rubs it — smooth, encouraging. something stutters in her chest. suddenly, strangely, she feels like she is not herself. she had hoped to get closer to that other self, the untroubled self, by taking this medication, by demanding it of him too, but — instead she feels more foreign to herself. more unfamiliar. ] What will you say if it's too much? Pick a word.
( the first word that comes to mind. a grim reminder of the cost of letting anyone this close, especially her.
she's being far more tender with him than he truly deserves. even he knows that. what makes it all the worst is realizing that perhaps they could have had this far sooner if not for his pride. )
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she's trying to overwhelm him, he registers distantly, desire spilling through his veins like a fever, like her honeyed sunlight, and for once he's inclined to let her have everything. )
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her fingernails scrape his skin in her eagerness to peel him out of his shirt. she shoves it down his shoulders and backs him the few shuffled steps towards the mattress. it feels easy and direct to pick a path for now, but considering her next steps leaves her spoiled for choice.
she breaks the kiss, her smile breathless. a quick scan of his face. his cheeks are flushed and his lips swollen. she likes this look on him. ]
You'd let me do whatever I want to you, wouldn't you? [ knowing this delights her. more than it should. it feels good, having the same power over him that he'd had over her. the thrill of novelty, made stronger by the fact that this time he'd submitted himself to it willingly. ]
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an unfortunate consequence of their surroundings but nothing that can't be overcome. as it stands, he's already leaning into her, trying to maximize all points of contact. it's not the "out of your skin with desperation" sensation of whatever he'd been given at the soup kitchen months ago, but there's a definite itch of need. )
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Greedy. [ she warns him. ] We may not be spoiled for choice, and I may not have your dexterity in summoning, but you will still wait for what I give you.
[ she bites his lip again, sharper this time. a warning. she won't let him rut his way to completion against her before she even gets her pants off. she won't let him have any pleasure while she can't take any. no amount of medication can make this thing between them feel like any less of a battle. ]
Anything I give you. [ their last time together — as themselves — stains this encounter too. the kiss she'd demanded of him, when he had not so much as kissed her when he'd set the nichevo'ya on her. that mention of summoning. that one, at least, gives her an idea. she lifts one hand, brings her fingers to his lips, gently probing. testing. ] Open.
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this feels familiar in a way he can't quite place. a false memory that overlays the truth. she had commanded him like this before, in that other life, and he'd bent so easily to her will, as natural as breathing.
his mouth parts easily around the pressure of her fingers, eyes skating over her face. she's in the sort of mood that makes her difficult to predict. all bruising teeth and bristling anger. )
Do you worst.
( lightly, almost coaxing, because even the drugs haven't robbed him of a lifetime's worth of insight. )
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Maybe I'll stuff every greedy hole of yours full. You liked doing it to me well enough. I'm sure the nichevo'ya would oblige. [ her fingers twist sideways, and she curls them to hook against the side of his cheek, tugging lightly, tooling with him. her voice is rough and quiet, mesmerized by entertaining the possibilities. by what she could do. ] Men have this one spot inside. Andy showed it to me. I could make you scream.
[ she pulls her fingers free of his mouth. trails the wet path down his bare chest, over the sunburst burn scar she'd left in him. the wet trail of her fingers traces the edges of its outline, admiring the mark she'd left on him. she leans in to kiss the hollow of his neck. ]
Or I've heard that people here like to drip hot wax on each other. They savor the little burns. [ her fingertips sear lightly at the surface of his skin, elsewhere on his chest. soft, light. just a flash of heat. a similar effect — as vanessa had told her, another sensation, something to draw out wonder at what the body could feel. ] Would you like that, Sasha?
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I'm familiar with it.
( she's expecting him to protest, he realizes. to baulk at these promises that feel so much like threats. but there's a space where the worry should occupy. a wound slowly scabbing over.
that name, though. that sends a thrill through him that's harder to pin down. sasha is a name for something more than just lovers or beloved enemies — especially when it's delivered in that eager, ravenous tone. )
And you've never had much trouble there.
( it was never the ability that lacked, only ever the drive to do it and evidently she now has that in spades.
his nose brushes against her hair. breathes her in and holds the scent of her in his lungs like he would keep another part of her with him given the chance. )
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Would you like that, I said.
[ and he hadn't answered. only teased her. she should expect as much. he'd been like that before, when their memories were muddled, too. he may submit to her, but he'll never be spineless. ]
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I'm here, aren't I? ( his hand lifts to cover hers, fingers lacing together. ) Ready to break for you.
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( he breaks off, breath rasping out of him, and he's just—he's exhausted. has been for so long that he can't truly remember what it had felt like to be anything other than bone-weary. those old fears and older want he has done everything in his power to push down and forget. )
—do it.
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[ a little thrill rolls through her, hearing him beg. sucking the breath out of his lungs. in complying, she chases more of it. she lifts one finger to lightly singe his lip — like a flash of sunburn. like a drop of hot wax.
then in the dip of his collarbone. down over the sunburst she carved into him with sunlight. tiny, brief touches of heat. she drinks in every twitch, every shudder of his breath, eyes shining with wondrous delight. ]
Look at you, moy yeretushko. [ he looks so pretty this way. helpless. or maybe it's not that at all — maybe it's that she feels powerful, untouchable. he had brought her so low, but she can do the same to him. ]
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he takes all of it because there's really no option but to take it all, and there is something close to peace in accepting this fact. a weight that drops from his shoulders even as those little flickers of pain makes his nerves sing. it keeps him focused: on her and her dark, gleaming eyes as they watch him.
oh.
a hoarse, pained sound stuttering out of his chest. sheared away before it can become a full-blown sob. )
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her fingertips continue downward. over his abdomen. against his hip. slow enough to ensure he focuses on each one. then she sinks to her knees, paying close attention there, too, with her tongue, before the waistband of his slacks gives him a break to catch his breath.
she reaches up for the belt, meeting his gaze. the stiff jut of his erection shows proudly through the front of his pants. she has been in this position before, with him. when she wasn't in control. it feels like returning home to the little palace had — revisiting all the little corners, all the little hurts he'd inflicted. this time, though, she's the one in control. ]
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he draws in a shaky breath that does absolutely nothing to steady him. )
Alina — ( he starts, then stops because he honestly has no idea what he wants to say next. if he should be saying anything at all when she seems to know exactly what she wants and his only job is to apparently lean back and take whatever she gives him. )
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[ she scrapes her teeth across the exposed bone of his hip as she patiently unbuckles and unloops his belt, rolls it carefully — it's one of the nice leather ones she'd bought for him, after all — and sets it aside.
she looks plainly up at him while she unfastens the button and zipper of his trousers, easing them and his underwear too down around his ankles. that glint is still there, in her eye. starving and steely. ]
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his lips part, fingers flexing at his side like he's testing a theory, reminding himself that nothing of real consequence has changed. that he's still himself in all the ways that matters. )
Please — I want... ( draws his tongue across his teeth. ) I want you.
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[ she reaches for his shoe. picks up his foot to ease it off, then the sock. she'll have him bare if she can get him. the neutrality of her expression is wasted when his cock is jutting between them. she hasn't touched it yet, tells herself she won't until he says the words. ]
Unless there's something particular you want from me. You're usually so eloquent.
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You don't want me eloquent.
( it's one of the strangest things about her, honestly. how little she seems to care about the polish. )
I want you any way you'll let me have you.
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I don't want you coy, either.
[ the playfulness leaks out of her expression. a ship with a hole in it. her nails dig in a little. ]
You want to cum, don't you? You want me to suck your cock. Say it. [ she wets her lips, hungrier for the plea than the actual act. ] Say, "Please, Sankta, suck my cock."
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( the hand not currently gripping the window sill like it's the only thing keeping him upright settles in her hair. cautious, careful. she's not permitted him to touch her yet. )
Please, Sankta Alina, Daughter of the Fold, suck my cock. Make me cum. Even though I am so very unworthy.
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the pills were supposed to make it easier. but they won't do anything for her memories, the way they taint every gesture. ]
And for a Submissive, you have a smart mouth. Maybe I should slap it.
[ it is not quite asking, as crais had urged her to do. but announcing her intention, at least, will give him the opportunity to rethink his answer if he doesn't want that. ]
I'm not convinced you want this at all.
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he ducks his head, expression softening. )
I'm sorry, I ... I'll be better.
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a shocked silence follows. she is not quick enough to console him, not quick enough to respond because despite the ease she feels in fulfilling her role, she is not at ease with what it means for the two of them. she does not want to break him. ]
It's alright. You're learning. [ she loosens her grip on his thigh. rubs it — smooth, encouraging. something stutters in her chest. suddenly, strangely, she feels like she is not herself. she had hoped to get closer to that other self, the untroubled self, by taking this medication, by demanding it of him too, but — instead she feels more foreign to herself. more unfamiliar. ] What will you say if it's too much? Pick a word.
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( the first word that comes to mind. a grim reminder of the cost of letting anyone this close, especially her.
she's being far more tender with him than he truly deserves. even he knows that. what makes it all the worst is realizing that perhaps they could have had this far sooner if not for his pride. )
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