[It's artless, the way he makes love to her tonight. Each movement, wrought from raw need. His body misses hers. His heart misses hers, at a level that cannot be communicated through words.]
Oh, love...
[That word that's gotten him in so much trouble. Nikolai doesn't mean to say it. It happens as naturally as the thump of his heart as she rocks in his lap and accepts him inside of herself. Behind this soft, sad exhalation lies so much that, for all the skill of his silver tongue, he doesn't know how to say. Isn't that how they got here? Pretending for just one night. Living in a daydream, drunk on the honey aroma of glowing blooms.
His tacit agreement is in the way he squeezes her in his arms. The way he loses himself in worshipping her breasts, kissing prayers in circles all around her rosy nipples. In the rhythm of their bodies, breath and flesh keeping time, things slide back into place. He teases like he used to, about her eagerness, about the fullness of her breasts, the sweetness of her milk. Forgetting himself, losing the shape of reality in the hazy heat of passion, he comments:]
Are you sure there will be enough for—?
[The end of the question sags. There is no baby. No little Dominik. He distracts both of them with a kiss, melding their mouths together before Alina can react.]
no subject
Oh, love...
[That word that's gotten him in so much trouble. Nikolai doesn't mean to say it. It happens as naturally as the thump of his heart as she rocks in his lap and accepts him inside of herself. Behind this soft, sad exhalation lies so much that, for all the skill of his silver tongue, he doesn't know how to say. Isn't that how they got here? Pretending for just one night. Living in a daydream, drunk on the honey aroma of glowing blooms.
His tacit agreement is in the way he squeezes her in his arms. The way he loses himself in worshipping her breasts, kissing prayers in circles all around her rosy nipples. In the rhythm of their bodies, breath and flesh keeping time, things slide back into place. He teases like he used to, about her eagerness, about the fullness of her breasts, the sweetness of her milk. Forgetting himself, losing the shape of reality in the hazy heat of passion, he comments:]
Are you sure there will be enough for—?
[The end of the question sags. There is no baby. No little Dominik. He distracts both of them with a kiss, melding their mouths together before Alina can react.]