Nikolai Lantsov ♛ Korol Rezni (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
reznikolai) wrote2021-01-30 06:21 pm
reznikolai) wrote2021-01-30 06:21 pmI N B O X
@volkvolny NIKOLAI LANTSOV | ✉ ☏ 📷 |
reznikolai) wrote2021-01-30 06:21 pm
@volkvolny NIKOLAI LANTSOV | ✉ ☏ 📷 |
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I think you forgot, yeah...
[Thankfully, that brings a tiny hint of a laugh to her own lips, so she finds... She isn't mad. People had lots of reasons for hiding things from their own world, and that sort of status seemed like one that made sense to be a bit careful with...
For a moment, she does debate what to say, though, unable to blush but doing her best attempt as she gently sweeps a few more strands of damp hair from his face, floating in the post-coital haze between sleepy and sullen heat urge to do more. Somewhere in between, just dulled enough that she hasn't noticed something she should. Yet.]
Do I need to keep it a secret... ? I think Alina was handfast drunk when she told me... I mean, I was, too, pretty sure, because now that I'm thinking about it I also seem to recall some groping, but...
[They had ended up covering different topics other than whether the King of Ravka's presence in this place was a secret to many or just a secret to some. Mainly how she could have had a stellar career in wet nursery and how amazing someone named Zoya's breasts were. Another topic left uncovered... The nature of arrangement between the two of them. Because surely... They'd discussed such things, right? After that dinner...]
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Still floating back to himself as he is, he isn't sure if this is a mistake he would undo if he could. She was in an uncomfortable position, and he helped her in a way nobody else could. That much of his logic was sound, even if it was dictated by the dragon's wild instincts.
But Nikolai can't quite disguise the way his countenance clouds over at the mention of Alina. Suddenly, her name stings. He would have to tell her. He would have to do the right thing. Would the truth hurt more or less than a lie?
Catching himself slipping, he puts the smile back in place.]
No, it's not exactly a secret... I just tend not to throw my titles around unless I have reason to do so. For the record, I wasn't lying about being captain of a ship. There was just a little bit more to the truth.
[That seems important to mention now...]
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But it was still somehow a bit nice, that he really was the captain of a ship. Makes her feel a bit less like a fool than if he'd completely made something up and she just went around believing it all this time.
Honestly, she almost misses the slip. She's warm, she's deliciously full, for the moment she's sated and that makes her a bit tired... But he's so close, their heartbeats entwined, her fingers dancing absently along his hairline that... She picks up on something. Unsure, her own smile weakens as his intentionally grows.]
Well, don't be cross with Alina... She probably just didn't realize I didn't know... and that night was strange all over...
[Even if she misinterprets that something... which reminds her of another something she needs to check on...]
Ah... Do I need to thank her for borrowing you... ?
[And even if... Wait, is that how she conceptualizes it?]
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I need to talk to her first.
[His gaze slides away from her, as do his hands, falling inert to the blankets mussed up underneath them.]
While I'm being honest, we're not in the habit of, ah, sharing one another...
[They had never established the boundaries of their relationship with any particular label, but that doesn't mean those boundaries don't exist. He's crossed a line, and he can only hope that she allows him to cross it back to her.]
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She'd made a mistake in thinking that they would have surely spoken to each other about how to handle dalliances with others in a place like this. Alina had said they were together, she remembers that now, though she hadn't said since when... But surely it had been... since before? They'd been living together this entire time, Konoha had seen how they acted around each other, the physical way they interacted when she'd been over for dinner, and she'd simply... assumed. It had seemed such an obvious necessity to her, and she didn't consider herself wise, so surely everyone else...]
Well... No, it's not... Not as a habit, but with all the gems and the strange festivals and everything...
[But her words trail off. It wasn't right to say something that sounded like she was blaming them for not communicating, or helpful to imply that she found it shocking. All that mattered to her right now is that she'd potentially gone from a lover for the afternoon to a regret that could hurt someone. Her brow furrows, her gaze drops in turn... but it rises again, watching him carefully and trying not to reach for where he's pulled away. Wondering if this means she should pull her robe back over her shoulders.]
Do you... Do you need to talk to her right now... ?
[As much as she had hoped he might stay a while, to spoil him in turn for what he had provided or simply bask in the aftermath without need for deep thought or hurry...
She already knew his heart was elsewhere. So was hers. But if his mind was elsewhere, on another woman in another place... Then his body would be little comfort here in her bed.]
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But from the beginning, he and Alina have established an unspoken rule of, well, leaving their relationship unspoken. As if putting it into words might undo the thing they've built. So naturally, they've never discussed contingencies and consequences.
In answer to Konoha's question, he can only nod.]
I'm sorry, Konoha. This isn't fair to you either.
[He untangles himself from the cradle of her arms and legs, shifting to the edge of the bed of blankets and hay. There, he pauses to look at her over his shoulder. Remorse tightens his expression, so different from the bliss that occupied him some turns of the clock back.]
I truly did want to help you.
[He would break his promise after all. Of taking care of her, of keeping her loneliness at bay.
Reaching for his shirt, he remembers...that's right, Konoha popped the buttons off in her haste. The reach for his trousers brings about a sharp awareness of how messy he is, slick with her juice mingled with his seed.]
...Ah.
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He untangles from her body, and she can't help the way her forelegs initially curl, how her fingers instinctively reach as if to stop him... But that was the body. The mind knows to let him go, the heart says she should let him go, and she pulls back herself after only that brief moment of betrayal, tucking her long legs in tight to her belly to pave the way for him to leave her bed and the mess left behind, milk pale on her breasts and seed pale beneath her tail, still twitching and half-up as if it hasn't caught up to the realization that things had taken a turn for the somber.
Unlike Nikolai... Konoha has never been particularly good at hiding what she was feeling. Her tendency towards honesty is not just a choice, but almost a necessity. Even when she wished to hide something, like now, when she attempts to downplay the disappointment she feels, the cold reminder of the fact that when it came to this... she was alone in this place. The only man in the world who loved her above others, who would choose her and gladly stay the night in her arms... He wasn't in this world. She tries, but she can't.
Later, she will rebuke herself for acting so immaturely, and she will regret it... But she doesn't absolve him. She should and she knows it, but she can't bring herself to say that it was alright, that he didn't need to be sorry, that it wasn't unfair... Not when she'd been so glad for the promise of a lover that, while temporary, would still spend some time with her, warm and hazy and uninterrupted by the harsher truths that awaited outside the circle of comforting arms, enough attention to settle her heat and the insatiable discomfort it brought. She had hoped to curl up next to him, stroking his hair in between sewing buttons she lazily reattached to the shirt she had damaged in her haste to touch, but instead...]
... There's a place for washing up out back. Go ahead and use that, no one will see you.
[It's a tiled area, a stool, and a handful of simple products next to a hose behind the barn, but designed for jinba as it was, it would still do well enough. Avoiding his eyes as if she could hide her disappointment, she shakily pulls herself more upright, gathering her discarded kimono and slowly shrugging back into it, heedless of staining, not bothering to pull her sweat-damp hair out from the collar or belt it properly. Next, she reaches to grab a basket from the edge of the hay and reed pile to drag it closer, searching through several half-finished sewing projects (a men's kimono, a child-sized cloak, an apron) she worked on in idle moments before sleeping for needle and thread.
Pauses... to wipe her hands on a dry part of her kimono before she resumes searching.]
Just leave your shirt here... I'll have buttons back on by the time you finish cleaning up.
[Though she'd planned on doing them so much more leisurely... She was a fast sewer. She'd get it done so he could leave with his modesty intact. So that when he went back to Alina, he would be able to use words first and not simply be seen and have his transgression known.]
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I won't be long.
[This is a promise he can follow through. Within a quarter of an hour, he is washed and (partially) dressed and on his third draft of what to say to Alina tonight. He walks back inside with the blanket neatly folded and draped over his arm. His hair is damp, his skin and scales glistening. His countenance is carefully, pleasantly neutral.]
Thank you for fixing up my shirt. If I attempted it myself, I'm sure I'd only inflict worse damage.
[He deposits the folded blanket on the floor by the bed and makes to gather his scattered socks and shoes. The whole of his focus goes into tugging these on, holding his gaze away from Konoha. But he finds his eyes flicking to her anyway and catching for just a moment. She looks good, mussed by their romp and loosely draped in her robe. Regret collides with guilt in his stomach, and he jerks his eyes away again.]
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I'm the one who damaged it, so...
[It was only proper she be the one to fix it, rush job or not. Task complete, she holds it out in offer, attempting to school her own expression even though she's nowhere near as good at it as he is.]
Here.
[The only thing that's changed since he left... she's shifted just a little to put her rump behind her in attempt to hide how her tail still twitched and swayed with heat yet unsated. Moved a bit of hay and reeds about to cover the stains left by their lovemaking until she found the strength for steadier legs and the required changing of the bedding.
But that could wait. She had something else to see to. To see out.]
Your other shirt is on the table there...
[The more jinba-height one, which she gestures to before self-consciousness gets the better of her and she just... tucks some of her disheveled hair behind her ear. Opens her mouth to ask something... and then thinks better of it. Instead, she just goes with,]
... Thanks again. For letting me borrow it.
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It was no trouble at all.
[Back to polite little nothings, so cool after the heated words that had poured from his lips not too long ago. Finished with all the fussy fastenings, Nikolai turns back to her — just briefly, long enough for a glance that he wants to be reassuring, but he knows it can't be. He goes to retrieve the borrowed shirt.
Just as before, when they'd fallen into a tryst beneath the tree, tugged along by a certain red powder, he wishes he could do something more for her. The dragon, quieter now, nevertheless stirs in his belly. But all he can do is leave her right there, disheveled and incomplete and alone. All he can offer is a thin smile.]
I'll be on my way, then. Good night, Konoha.
[And with that, he'll escort himself out.]