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black and blue (begging you for more)

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Alina has memories of her parents– faint, fleeting images, sounds. Resurfaced by a scent, a word, a sensation. 


She remembers the gooseflesh dancing over her skin as her mother’s nails ghosted over her scalp, nimble fingers working through the damp tangles after her nightly bath. She remembers the soothing feeling of it, the way it had always made her eyelids droop and shoulders sag, how she often found herself lying with her head on her mother’s lap, half-asleep as the woman ran a brush through the rest of her slowly drying hair.


The cushion beneath her cheek now is not the plush pillow of her mother’s thighs, but the hard, muscled planes of Aleksander’s stomach. The fingers combing through her hair are no less gentle, though she can feel the roughness of them, the blunt nails that tease along the shell of her ear, that trace the line of her jaw. 


The hand that is not in her hair is holding a pile of loose papers– reports, maps, a collection of original fucking poetry, Alina does not know. Her mind is too hazy to focus, to care, to think about anything other than the comfort of Aleksander’s steady touch.


A gray silk sheet is draped over them, coming to rest just under her naked breasts and just over his hips. Her eyes drop to the bulge beneath the fabric, his cock still half-hard and maybe even slick with her, just as she can feel the steady drip of his seed down her thighs.


Alina takes her left hand off his stomach, slides it lower, following the line of dark wispy hairs until it rests over the bulge in the sheets.


Aleksander’s hand stills in her hair, just for a moment, before continuing his mindless ministrations.


“You need to rest,” is all he says.


Alina frowns. “I’m fine.”


“Ten minutes ago you were crying on my cock.” Alina flushes. She had just gotten a little teary, a little overstimulated, it’s not like she was sobbing . “Just relax, zolotse . In a moment I will dress and bring you back some dinner.”


She props herself up on her elbow, turning around and shooting him a look of indignation. “You’re turning me down?”


Aleksander puts down his papers. “Never.” His hand leaves her hair, smooths down her back and settles on the swell of her bottom. “Just trying to work on your patience.”


“I’m plenty patient,” she teases. “After all, I already waited ten minutes.”


Aleksander can’t fight the amused smile that twists his lips, and he squeezes her ass in retaliation. 


“At least let me bring you some food.”


“I’m not hungry.”


“You haven’t eaten since midday, solnyshka .” 


Since her arrival at the Little Palace what feels like a lifetime ago, Aleksander has always fussed over her food. Always made sure there was enough on her plate, took care to figure out which foods suited her palate and which made her grimace when she took a bite. He had been worried, when they first met, by how frail she was. Constantly frowning over the hollowness of her cheeks, the sharp jut of her hip bones. 


She notices now, the way that his hands linger on her soft belly, the way they squeeze the meat on her thighs that never used to be there. How his eyes are constantly drawn to the fullness of her backside, the swell of her breasts. She doesn’t mind the attention, but Saints , having one dinner late isn’t going to kill her.


“Please, Sasha,” Alina whines, kissing and nipping her way up his chest. It’s not even that she wants him to fuck her again– she does, of course, but that want is always there. It ebbs and flows like the tide, never going away, just changing in ferocity. No, the wanting she feels now is more of a desperation, an unwillingness to relinquish the feeling of their sweat-sticky skin pressed together. She does not want to give up the solace of their little world, the soft kingdom of light and shadow in their bed. 


If Aleksander were to dress, to leave her, to slip into the corridors in search of a meal, he would no doubt run into someone who demands his attention, and then she would be alone again.


“A rest,” Aleksander insists. His fingers slip between the cleft of her ass to press against the hot slick of her cunt. She gasps, too sensitive, and scrambles up his chest and away from his touch. At his patronizing look– the smug bastard– she ducks her head, embarrassed.


“A rest,” he repeats. “Then, Alinochka , I will fuck you again.”


“It doesn’t have to be–” The words die on Alina’s tongue, caught by the heat in her cheeks and her last shreds of dignity, clinging to her in a final, futile attempt before her lover strips them away.


Aleksander arches a single dark brow. “It doesn’t have to be what?”


“I know…” Alina’s hand skirts over his bulge again, tentative, shy. “With my mouth.”


It’s a bold proposition. She’s never done it before, never had the courage to offer herself in this way. She had figured that if Aleksander had wanted this particular thing from her, he would have asked, would have taken it, for he is not a man to be kept wanting. But he has never asked this of her, and when he shakes his head at her words, eyes softening– “No, zolotse , you don’t have to do that.”– Alina is suddenly flooded with shame.


“Why not?” she presses, her voice timid and soft, unable to meet his eyes. “Do you think I will be bad at it? Because I haven’t done it before?”


She’s heard enough about it, caught enough whispers through the First Army camp and Keramzin alike, to understand the logistics. It doesn’t seem too hard, but maybe it is, maybe she’s setting herself up to look like a fool, maybe–


“No,” Aleksander says vehemently, pulling her face to his for a bruising kiss. “No, my sweet, not that. Never that.”


“Then what?” Her voice is a petulant whine, almost childish, the intonation that only seems to escape her by way of his hand. “You do it to me all the time.”


“Is it not enough to let me worship you, my little saint?”


“Am I not allowed to do the same?” Alina counters. Mustering up her courage, she reaches below the sheet and takes his fully hard cock in her hand. Her fingers barely manage to wrap all the way around him and– she was right, before. He is still slick with her. “Let me worship you, too. Show me how.”


His eyes darken, the black of his pupil encasing his gray irises completely. 


“Please?” Alina pitches her voice lower, sliding down his body and pressing a chaste kiss over his pubic bone. “Please, Sasha, will you teach me?”


“Teach you want?” he prompts, giving a slight nod of encouragement at her hesitation. “Let me hear you say it, sweet.”


Alina bites her lip. “Will you teach me how to suck your cock?”


Aleksander inhales sharply, his cock throbbing in her hand. His answer is a growl, a tight grip on her upper arms as he drags her to sit between his spread legs. Alina slides lower, knees slipping on the silk sheet fitted over the mattress, until the hair she flips over her shoulder splays across his thigh. 


“Kiss it,” Aleksander commands. “Like you would kiss me.”


The kiss is soft, tender, the lightest press of her lips to the flushed red tip of his length. It bobs against her mouth and she can’t stop her tongue from darting out, running along her lower lip, catching the sharp tangy taste that still lingers on his skin, the taste of her that she has learned from licking it off his tongue.


“Oh, Alina,” Aleksander sighs, weaving his fingers back into her hair and giving an insistent tug. “That’s not what I asked for.”


Kiss it like you would kiss me.


Her next kiss is harder, bolder. A wet smack against the underside of his cock, right along the tight line of tissue beneath the tip. Aleksander’s thighs twitch under her hands and she kisses it again, and again, moving her lips up and down his heated skin until there has been no place her lips have not touched.


“Good,” Aleksander says tightly, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “Now open your mouth for me.”


For all she has felt his thickness in her hand, in her cunt, she still does not fully anticipate the stretch of him in her mouth, the weight of him on her tongue. 


“Saints, solnyshka ,” Aleksander says when she looks up at him with a mouthful of his cock, running a hand through his own hair to keep it from falling into his eyes. “If you could see yourself.”


She knows what he must be feeling– it’s the same way she feels when he glances up at her from between her legs, with the devilish glint in his eye and the shine of her cum on his lips. 


“No, no,” Aleksander stops her when she tries to take him further into her mouth. “Not yet. Suck on it a little bit first, there you go. Yes, malyshka , just like that.”


It feels almost a bit silly, sucking on the tip of him as she would a piece of sweet candy. Her tiny hands are splayed over the thick muscles of her thighs, helping her keep her balance as she bobs her head slightly, not taking him any deeper but just creating a bit of motion, hollowing her cheeks to suck him a bit harder.


Aleksander takes her right hand, brings it to his mouth and spits on it, before moving it back to wrap around the base of his cock. He covers it with his own hand, showing Alina how to adjust her grip, how to stroke him in tandem with her gentle sucks.


“That’s it,” he rasps out, his gaze ravenous as he watches her. “Alina, my sun, my sweet. You’re doing so well.”


His praise emboldens her, and she wants to do more, to make him feel more . Alina opens her mouth wider, tries to take him deeper, but she is unprepared for just how much of him there is. When he hits the back of her throat she gags and pulls back, face red with embarrassment as she splutters and tries to catch her breath.


“Oh, Alinochka ,” he says pityingly, leaning forward to wipe the tears from her cheeks. “Don’t rush yourself. Let me work you up to it. Don’t worry, sweet, you will have my whole cock soon.”


Alina takes a shaky breath and nods, ready to return to the task at hand.


“Lick it,” Aleksander tells her. “Up and down, yes , like that. Get me nice and wet, like how I am after I’ve fucked your sweet little cunt. ”


His words thrill her and mortify her at the same time. She thinks back to the way his cock had looked when it slipped out of her earlier, shining, her own creamy cum pooled in the dark hairs around the base. The space between her thighs is slippery and hot, throbbing at the very thought of having him inside her again. 


Alina keeps her hand firmly wrapped around the bottom of his cock, holding him steady as she runs her tongue over the vast length of him. Milky white droplets form at the tip and she swipes them off, then drags her tongue down to trace the dark vein that sprouts up from the base, the blue-black line that stands out like a crack of lightning against the night sky. She delights in the choked gasp that escapes him when she does it, the way his cock throbs against her tongue.


“Such a good girl for me,” he coos to her, the praise sending a jolt of pleasure thrumming up her spine. She clenches her thighs together and shifts, desperate for friction, but the slickness between them does not grant her the satisfaction she needs.


“Try again now, malyshka ,” Aleksander says. “Now that you’ve gotten me all wet the way I like.” 


This time, she is prepared for the way he fills her. She can’t take him all the way yet, but she does manage to go a little deeper, the ache of her jaw a sharp reminder of how big he is, how much he has to give her. 


“Go slow, relax for me. Breathe through your nose. That’s it, sweet girl.” 


He sounds no different than he did when he encouraged her to show her powers in front of the king and queen, his low voice steady and reassuring, his faith giving her the confidence to shine. When she looks up through her lashes, his gaze burns her. 


“Your hand, too, zolotse . Move your hand how I showed you.”


Alina keeps her grip tight, twisting her wrist in the way she’s seen him do so many times before, when his mouth was busy working between her thighs. Her eyes water as she fights against her gag reflex, remembering to breathe through it as tears stream down her cheeks. Her head bobs up and down, guided by Aleksander’s double-fisted grip in her hair.


She can feel the spit pooling in her mouth, a line of drool running down her chin and throat. The wet, sloppy sound of them echoes through the room, her choked noises and whines punctuated by Aleksander’s low groans as she works him up, up, up–


“Saints, listen to you,” he growls, teeth bared. “So hungry for my cock, choking on it like a good little whore. Moya solnyshka, my sweet, with your perfect little mouth, giving me those pretty eyes.”


Alina rubs her thighs together again, so desperate for more, for him – She has half a mind to reach a hand down and do it herself, but before she can move she feels the cool graze of his shadows, their silky touch smoothing over her shoulders. 


“You like this, Alinochka ?”


The shadows move down her sides, around her waist.


“You’re dripping for me, aren’t you? All worked up, you needy little thing?”


The shadows wrench her legs apart. Alina lets out a choked whine around his cock as they dance up her inner thighs, the chill of them mixing with the heat of the arousal that drips from her center.


“Are you going to come just from sucking my cock?”


The shadows brush over her clit and Alina shudders as her orgasm is ripped from her, writhing against his grip with a desperate wail. Aleksander pulls her off his cock as he comes too, his seed painting her lips and chin, spilling over her hand. 


“Sasha,” Alina gasps as she slumps over, her head finding the pillow of his thigh. Her sticky hand is still wrapped around his cock, feeling it twitch beneath her grip.


Aleksander hums in acknowledgement, brushing her hair away from her sweaty temples. She looks up at him with his cum dotting her face and a dreamy, fucked-out smile. 


“Was it...did I…?”


“Perfect,” Aleksander murmurs as her eyes flutter closed, sleep finally taking her. “You were perfect.”