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 | ✉ ☏ 📷 |
no subject
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.
no subject
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?
no subject
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.