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[reznikolai]

@volkvolny NIKOLAI LANTSOV

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[solmate]

[ 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.

[reznikolai]

[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.]

[solmate]

[ 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? ]

[reznikolai]

[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.]

[solmate]

[ 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.

[reznikolai]

[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?

[solmate]

[ 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.