reznikolai | I N B O X

[He has become quite good at pretending with her. Not in the way he had done so all those years ago, with so many masks in place he himself hardly knew which version of Nikolai was the true one — in this way they've invented together. This little fantasy that he can't help but wish were a viable path instead of a dead end.

Nikolai runs his hand from the hook of her knee to her thigh, squeezing the curve of her ass, playfully snapping the band of her panties.]

Next time we decide to be indecent in a public setting, you might consider planning ahead, Alinochka. Wear a skirt and forego the underwear.

[Taking another kiss, capturing her bottom lip with his teeth, he sets to reminding her of how well his hands treat her. He tugs aside the narrow stretch of fabric hiding her cunt and tests his fingers at her entrance. Already slick. Expectant. He strokes her, coaxing her further down the twisting path of pleasure.]

[ She swats at him, feigning scandal, but she is hardly protesting. Her head tips forward, burying it against his shoulder with a pleasurable groan. Her fingers curl in his shirt of balance as he slips his fingers between her legs and makes easy work of her while a stupid little fantasy intrudes into her mind. ]

Don't make promises you won't deliver on.

[ Of course she knows there is no threat of that. She doesn't make a habit of wearing many skirts, but she knows he wouldn't be able to keep his hands to himself if she tempted him at brunch.

But that isn't the image that holds her attention. She thinks of his him ducking out from underneath a long gown, his face smug and slick as she grips a marble column of the grand palace for balance behind her. ]

Ah— [ She swallows, trying to push it out of her head. ] You're the schemer anyway. And I can't make things too easy for you.

[A similar fantasy may be fluttering somewhere in the back of his thoughts too. She hardly ever wears skirts or dresses here, but in Ravka, if he could have made her his queen... Well, the Grand Palace has so many alcoves and out-of-the-way rooms they might put to better use. It would be easy enough to smooth her skirts back into place after they'd had their fun, to carry on as if nobody could interpret the real meaning of their flushed faces.

This is nothing more than an idle what if, of course. Alina's warm body under his touch, however, is incredibly vivid. He grips this present thrill in the fore of his mind. Her hands balling in his shirt, her lovely mouth groaning against his shoulder, her body blooming for him as he strokes her folds in a steady rhythm.]

I'm quite serious about my pledge of public indecency...

[There's a touch of irony in their talk of promises and pledges, when he cannot make the kinds of vows he most wants to offer her.

If she wants him to be hers, for now — if she wants to forget that it's only for now...he intends to do all he can to make that happen. He kisses her hair as he pushes a finger inside her, brushing his thumb against her clit.]

Mhm.

[ Her mouth opens against the skin on top of his shoulder, drawing a decadent groan as he slips a finger inside of her. She is warm, wet, and welcoming to him. ]

I wonder what else I could get you to promise me.

[ It sneaks out of her mouth against her better judgement. She doesn't have a whole ton of that to spare in the first place, but Nikolai's eager fingers easily coax her into admitting the little intoxicating thoughts that flit across her mind. ]

[Despite the open sky above them, the stone floors and closely enjoined walls catch her moan and echo it back all around him, its sweetness amplified. How can he help but answer her the way he wishes he could?]

I'll promise you anything you want...

[A reckless offer, a foolish offer, when there is so much he cannot give her. His hands are bound by their divided destinies.

But not these hands, probing her, teasing her. He withdraws his finger only for the sake of undoing his pants. Letting the garment slouch down his ass, he tugs down his underwear just enough to spring his cock free. Keeping Alina's panties pulled to the side, he presses against her. A roll of his hips, and his shaft slides tantalizingly across her entrance. Her slickness feels like a kiss against his hot skin. His breath catches in her hair.]

Be mine.

[ A greedy, hungry demand. A demand that she thinks can fill up all the lonely, empty spaces inside of her that she now wants singly and wholly filled by him. It lacks the caveat from earlier— the for now that made this a reasonable ask of him. She likes to think that they are the same, tells herself that the for now is implicit. In reality, it's as reckless and foolish as his offer to give her anything she wants.

These are not promises or pledges they can actually make to each other, and maybe there is a safety in a sorrow in knowing the impermanence that lets her admit she wants him to fill the aching place between her legs and in her chest. She guides him, wrapping a hand around his cock to settle at her entrance. She wants him, the desperate man who is still so generous with his pleasure, the man that whispers sweet and filthy things alike to her while he's buried inside of her. She wants him so badly that it actually hurts, more so when she has to contend with the fact that this will end one day.

But without that, she's not sure she would ask for something so greedy and impossible of him being hers. ]

I need you. [ Its a low whine as she lines him up to slot inside of her. ] Fuck me so good that I'll never forget it.

Edited 2021-09-04 04:45 (UTC)

[The rush is more urgent than usual, the rituals of affection curtailed. The setting of their tryst certainly encourages brevity. There's no time to spare for wandering through one another's touch, lingering at favorite spots here and there — not if they hope to minimize the chances of being discovered.

But more than that, it's the heavying sense that their time together is limited that provokes this desperation. A desperation to retreat into one another, as if that might stave off the day they both know must come. A desperation to forget they could ever be anyone else's.

With his grip firm on her thigh, Nikolai pushes inside her. A sigh strains in his throat. His lips seek hers, hungry for all those sweet little noises that spill out.]

Then you'll have me. I will never not be yours.

[A promise caught somewhere between lie and truth. Even when this is over, when he returns and she's another man's wife and he marries a Shu princess... He will still love her. Even if she doesn't know it, some piece of him will still be hers.

This is what eddies inside of him as he pins Alina to the wall by the steady force of his hips, and he steals a hand up her shirt to squeeze her tit, and he pours a stream of kisses into her lips. Forget with him. Remember him.]

[ Men have told her lies and half-truths before in hopes to make her theirs, so they could use her power and glory as a queen or a saint and claim it as their own.

This is not one of those times.

(It might be easier if it was).

Hearts and promises exchanged, Alina whines once again at the utter unfairness of it all against his lips. The stretch of him is sudden and blunt, but they do not have the time for the meandering affectionate exchanges, not in the life that she wants it. Neither of them owns their fate enough to give it freely to the other, and for a moment Alina is forced to contend with the fact that letting herself fall in love resulted in a sacrifice of her own making. She does not think the word love. She might think the word love.

People think ridiculous things in the heat of the moment. Men are supposed to make ridiculous promises seeking the warmth between women's legs, and the wet slide of bodies, a possessive hand at their breasts, a shower of shockingly affectionate kisses are supposed to make them believe. ]

I wish— [ Stuttered and stopped with the rhythm of her body, arms wrapped around him and clinging as she tries to pull herself into the whole of his grip. She is light enough and he is strong enough that it should work.

What does she wish? That it was true? It is, but it isn't. She wishes that fate and time were not so cruel.

(Maybe they aren't, she thinks belatedly. After all, fate and time gave them this.)

Her head curls into the top of his shoulder, panting heavily as her fingers dig into the skin of his back. Her traitorous heart cracks. ]

I want you to be happy.

[In the heat of the moment he has said all manner of things to her. Sweet things, obscene things. This is a little bit of both. Sweet at the first taste, but obscene the longer it lingers.]

I'm happy right now, Alinochka.

[With their bodies enmeshed, her head bent into his shoulder, her nails scraping his skin as if meaning to reach inside of him. This is where Nikolai finds happiness. In being chosen by her. In knowing that she will be there when he wakes up, when he comes home. For the present, he can't imagine finding this place with anyone else. Nor can he bring himself to be embarrassed by how dramatic that thought is as it settles in his heart. It's a child's stubbornness, a romantic sop's conviction. A king can ill afford to be either.

I want you to be happy too, he almost murmurs in return. But he already knows Alina finds her happiness. She will get to fade into quiet obscurity and devote her life to one man instead of to an entire nation. Just as she wanted.

Instead, in answer to her efforts to hoist herself into his grip, he hooks his arms around her thighs and lifts her off the wall. By pushing his hips forward and pulling her down onto him, he builds a powerful rhythm that reverberates through him.]

I want to make you happy... [The end of the sentence dissolves on a moan as he buries himself deep inside her.] I wish I could keep making you happy.

[A desire more selfish than hers. He isn't ready to let this go. All of her in his arms. All of them knotted up together. The desperate rush of it all — with his clothes hanging off of him, the edge of her pushed aside panties rubbing against his cock as he slides in and out — makes this pleasure more potent. Dizzying, intoxicating. He loves to think that she's trying to cling to this as fiercely as he is.]

[ Weightless in his arms, an ease at odds with the punishing pace he sets, both equally desperate for something the world has cruelly denied him. It makes no sense to think of a version of themselves where they are not King and Saint, but she thinks of it anyway, either posts that were abandoned or those that never were in the first place.

(She thinks she would have punched him if she ever met him as a corporal in the First Army, and that thought is more comforting than it should be.) ]

Don't stop.

[ Making her happy or fucking her? It probably doesn't matter if one permits the other. She feels the gusset of her panties rub across her clit as he moves, the friction hot across her even with the slick that's gathered. Saints, it's too much and not enough. She is going to be red and sore for days, and Nikolai, her kind, sweet, giving, infuriating, smug Nikolai will keep her in bed with his mouth on her cunt, his tongue slowly and languidly laving across her, pressing kisses to her thighs as he soothes her with filthy and affectionate whispers.

The contrast of it, the fact that he is both, that she has both, that for awhile she gets to pretend that she will forever have him and all of him, is almost enough to make her come. ]

Please. Please, please Kolya. [ She doesn't even know what she's pleading for, sounding more like a whine and a whimper than a cutting command. She feels at his mercy in his arms. ] I want you.

[ And how could he deny her when she asks so nicely? ]

Edited 2021-09-23 05:37 (UTC)

[I'm yours to command, he told her the first time they ever slipped into bed together. To be sure, he had meant it then — wanting her to feel completely comfortable as they crossed new territory, he let her lead the way. But now, months later, he feels the words at a deeper level. In the stuff of his bones, the molten liquid of his core. For now, he wants nothing more than to fulfill her every desire, dangle from her every word. For now, for now.]

You know me... [His words roughen with his breath.] I never stop.

[Nikolai is unrelenting in his efforts to fuck her well and good. Pulling her into him, he drives deep inside again and again. The sound of them, a cadence of bodies crashing together, fills the stall. He knows he's demanding a lot, and he looks forward to taking care of her later as she recovers. This, and this too. So many damned lovely little pieces of this life they've discovered.

At this greedy pace, it isn't long before he hits his climax. Suddenly, his grip tightens around her, his hips stutter in their rhythm.]

That's a good girl—

[A moan quakes from his mouth, quivering at her ear. As he spills his seed into her, he keeps pushing for as long as he can.]

[ Oh.

Oh.

What is it about the way he says good girl that makes it feel like she's been struck by lightning, like she's been pulled out by a riptide, like she's walked into a fire and she would thank the storm, the seas, the blazing forest for the opportunity to feel something so big before being totally consumed by it.

She shudders, a full-bodied, quivering shudder that arcs totally through her, from her head to the tips of her fingers and toes. He knocks the wind out of her, and she accepts it gladly — to be so filled for just this

A mouthful of his shirt and shoulder muffle the bulk of the way she cries out, yes just let her be good, yes just let her be wanted, unfiltered and uncensored for something she wants to give so freely. Nothing else matters than being good for him. Her nails dig into his back, her teeth find his flesh even through fabric making little red marks that will fade easily enough but for a moment she knows they belong to each other. Pulsing around him, she grips him as if to squeeze ever drop she can from him, holding desperately onto a moment that passes far too quickly.

She collapses against him, letting him hold all of her weight, her feet dangling loosely in the air. Shifting in his grip, she can feel his spend warm and thick slide over her thigh and drip uselessly onto the tile. She marks it with an indistinct murmur, wiping sweat from her brow on the top of his shoulder. ]

That was... [ She trails off, not having fully caught her breath. ] I didn't know I would like that so much. Being called that.

[The world contracts to Alina shuddering around him. His mind empties of everything but her. Her wanting him, her needing him. Her nails carving his skin, her teeth sinking into him, hold him there with her in the miniature universe of this moment.

Even as the waves of pleasure ebb, the bracing crash of it softening to a sublime stillness, all those other things remain distant. The uncertainties awaiting him in Ravka, like so many wolves howling at the door. The stranger that is to be his bride. The Darkling, resurrected from the dead, from the stuff of his nightmares. They remain just outside tangibility for the moment, as if warded off by the closed knot of their bodies, by the effusion of manna flowing through their limbs.

Alina sags in his grip. He staggers, strength faltering, before he corrects himself. A kiss pressed into her hair, a ragged sigh of laughter.]

I'll have to remember that.

[With a gentleness that was not allowed by the desperation that intertwined with his passion, Nikolai lowers her back to the ground. Even after she's gotten her feet underneath her, his arms stay sturdy around her. Heedless of the sticky mess between them, he holds her up against him.]

How is your mood doing now? [His grin and voice bend mischievously.] And your legs? Will you be able to walk, or shall I carry you around for the rest of the day?

[ She smiles into his shoulder before pressing a kiss on his neck, tasting the salt of his sweat and the sea. Swaying from one foot to another, she tests out bearing her full weight again now that she's no longer in his arms. She finds that she misses it already, being held by him, trusting someone so fully, knowing that he could carry her when she was too tired to walk alone.

She stays tucked against him for a moment, sighing contentedly before the realization that they have already risked discovery for too long and she doesn't want now to be when a well-meaning attendant gets an eyeful. She peels away from him, adjusting her panties which are a debauched mess from the both of them (but still better than the alternative of going commando) and slips her shorts up from their spot where they've been discarded on the ground. Once she's mostly dressed and tied back any wayward hair, she loops her arms loosely around Nikolai's neck, draping her weight partially on him. ]

Mhmm. [ She hums with exaggerated consideration. ] Thoroughly brightened despite my best efforts to remain otherwise. [ A joke, of course. She is happy whenever she is with Nikolai. ] I wouldn't say no to another trot along the beach.

I N B O X

definitely turning nsfw

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