[ 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. )
a shiver rolls through her. like he's just shared with her his greatest fear, and also the thing he'd tried to serve to her on a platter. if she had ever believed he might be faking, might not really have taken the pill, those last questions fade away now. no doubts can remain in the wake of that choice.
alina closes her hand around his cock, strokes him gently. too solid to tease, but too slow to go anywhere but to ensure that he has not lost any of his firmness in their little lapse. ]
Good. [ she wets her lips. ] Now try again. Make me believe you mean it, or you'll have only my hand.
There's nothing in the world that I want more than for you to touch me.
( the admission should feel liberating. instead it feels like he's given her something he'll never be able to take back. something raw and deeply personal.
[ with the hold she has on his wrist, she brings his hand to her face. her hand slides from wrist to the back of his palm. cupping his hand there. soft.
her other hand slides to the base of his cock so she can lean in, taking just the tip of him into her mouth. a little tease. barely more than an open-mouthed kiss. brief and wet. she licks him, then. the tip, the underside along the shaft.
she takes her time as she hadn't been able to, that day. learns the smell of him. her chest tightens with a grief she can't place. ]
( he goes very still. watches her move over his body like she's mapping new territory, cautious rather than avaricious because she's gotten what she wanted from him and this is clearly enough for her.
saints, let it be enough. he already feels like every muscle and every nerve is strung tight, poised to snap. trembles with the urge to move, to do something, anything. but he can't. not yet. not until she gives him permission. )
[ she can feel a tremor in him. tension. she wants to believe it's not that he's afraid of her. he would use that word if he were, wouldn't he? she brings her hands to his thighs, glides along them with soothing, encouraging strokes. ]
Let go. Stop worrying and focus on the feeling. Do you like what I'm doing?
[ she stops speaking to take him into her mouth, deep into her throat, eyes shut with the focus necessary to do it. she's sorry to not be able to watch his reactions, but she listens anyway as she sets a rhythm, sliding her lips up and down the length of him, pressing the tip of him along the roof of her mouth with every down-stroke. she takes only as much as she can safely — half of him, barely. ]
( that's easier said than done. he can't remember, truthfully, the last time he really let himself simply be.
certainly not without the city's helpful little nudges.
he breathes out through his nose, eyes pressing shut, because he doesn't dare look at her just now, just yet. not when it's already on the verge of being too much. )
[ she lets him fill her throat. gags on him. digs her fingertips into his hips to hold him steady so she can decide on the pace, the depth.
she finds herself missing his foul mouth. the assurance with which he had coached her through this once before. these sentiments pop like bubbles. gone in an instant, unable to sink in and find purchase. she is comfortable here. satisfied. there is a chemical running through her that tells her so. and even if she were not, she would never ask him for that. especially not after what he'd done.
she pulls back. ] How does my mouth feel, Sasha? Do you like fucking your Saint's throat? Is this how you want to come?
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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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a shiver rolls through her. like he's just shared with her his greatest fear, and also the thing he'd tried to serve to her on a platter. if she had ever believed he might be faking, might not really have taken the pill, those last questions fade away now. no doubts can remain in the wake of that choice.
alina closes her hand around his cock, strokes him gently. too solid to tease, but too slow to go anywhere but to ensure that he has not lost any of his firmness in their little lapse. ]
Good. [ she wets her lips. ] Now try again. Make me believe you mean it, or you'll have only my hand.
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( the admission should feel liberating. instead it feels like he's given her something he'll never be able to take back. something raw and deeply personal.
he blows out a breath, brow furrowing. )
Please, Sankta. Grant me relief. Let me be yours.
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her other hand slides to the base of his cock so she can lean in, taking just the tip of him into her mouth. a little tease. barely more than an open-mouthed kiss. brief and wet. she licks him, then. the tip, the underside along the shaft.
she takes her time as she hadn't been able to, that day. learns the smell of him. her chest tightens with a grief she can't place. ]
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saints, let it be enough. he already feels like every muscle and every nerve is strung tight, poised to snap. trembles with the urge to move, to do something, anything. but he can't. not yet. not until she gives him permission. )
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Let go. Stop worrying and focus on the feeling. Do you like what I'm doing?
[ she stops speaking to take him into her mouth, deep into her throat, eyes shut with the focus necessary to do it. she's sorry to not be able to watch his reactions, but she listens anyway as she sets a rhythm, sliding her lips up and down the length of him, pressing the tip of him along the roof of her mouth with every down-stroke. she takes only as much as she can safely — half of him, barely. ]
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certainly not without the city's helpful little nudges.
he breathes out through his nose, eyes pressing shut, because he doesn't dare look at her just now, just yet. not when it's already on the verge of being too much. )
It's perfect. You're perfect.
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she finds herself missing his foul mouth. the assurance with which he had coached her through this once before. these sentiments pop like bubbles. gone in an instant, unable to sink in and find purchase. she is comfortable here. satisfied. there is a chemical running through her that tells her so. and even if she were not, she would never ask him for that. especially not after what he'd done.
she pulls back. ] How does my mouth feel, Sasha? Do you like fucking your Saint's throat? Is this how you want to come?
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