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“Let me,” he murmured against my throat. His heel hooked around my leg, bringing me closer. I felt the heat of his tongue, the flex of hard muscle beneath bare skin as he guided my hands around his waist. “It isn’t real,” he said. “Let me.”
I felt that rush of hunger, the steady, longing beat of desire that neither of us wanted, but that gripped us anyway. We were alone in the world, unique. We were bound together and always would be.
My voice came out as a whisper. "It feels real enough." My eyes still closed, I felt the ripple of his muscles as he moved against me, warm under my hands. His mouth moved up my neck, trailing wet fire until it reached my jaw, below my ear, then my nape. A shiver raced through me, raising goosebumps on my skin. His hands moved from my hair down to my arms, as if claiming every bump of raised flesh. As if saying, I made this happen. And I felt shame bloom within me.
"Don't," I said. But it came out too weak. I realized my hands were already entwined in the silk midnight of his hair. The steady beat of desire wrapped us both in a heady embrace, but I felt my resolve starting to gather.
"Yes," he agreed, "let's not." He sighed, then pulled me flush against him, his arms tight around me, his face nestled in the crook of my neck. We stayed like that for several heartbeats, unmoving. His breath came deep and laboured, as if at war with himself. "You were about to push me away."
I did not deny it. "I have to."
"Because I am your villain?"
"Because of what you did." I hesitated, then added, helplessly, "Not because of who you are." And because I know things are at an end, I pressed a kiss where my lips lay, against his hair. I inhaled the scent of him, cool and pure, committing it to memory. It felt like a farewell.
"Stay with me," he murmured into my skin, "Just a little longer."
My shoulders sagged. This is the part where I have to cut the tether between us. And yet. And yet.
He seemed so human. So much like a vulnerable boy. I found myself trying hard to remember why I needed to step away. I felt my vision blur. I realized that I was crying. I realized I was holding Aleksander in my arms, and not the Darkling. All the scheming and deceiving were pared away to just this: a lonely boy, needing to be loved. Looking for his balance, his center. And then I realized one more thing.
I could love this Aleksander. I shouldn't, but I could. And I hated myself for this knowledge.
He raised his head until his eyes are level with mine. He is so close I am inhaling his breath. His lips brushed mine as he spoke, "Is it so difficult for you to love me back?" With his thumb, he wiped my tears away. Gently.
I resented him for saying it out loud. Because now I can no longer tell myself it's just in my head. This thing between us can't be summed and wrapped up in a neat little bow of a word. And yet he said it.
And since this is farewell, I made myself bold.
"Do you, though," I leaned back so I can read his face, "Aleksander?"
"I gave you my name. No one else has it. Except," he gave a wry smile, "my mother."
I grinned despite myself. "Did she ever call you Sasha?"
"No one ever did." He looked at me then, and I felt the mood shift. My heart beat a little harder. "Will you be the first?"
Aleksander. Sasha. This boy before me, holding me possessively, his heels around my legs and arms cradling me, had been called by many names over many lifetimes. But in this lifetime, I will be the first for this one. A name he has never been called before. It felt intimate, raw. I held his cheek and he leaned into my palm, eyes closed.
"Alright. Sasha."
His eyes flew open, and just like that, I fell helplessly into him. His mouth found mine and all thoughts left me.
He kissed me hungrily, and I opened for him. His tongue was warm against mine. He drank me in, hands in my hair, on my neck, on my back, always moving, restless. I held him to me, and when his hands found my breasts, I made a small sound. His kiss deepened, and I felt the hardness of him press against my hips. He relinquished my mouth for a moment and took in the sight of me. I wondered what I looked like to him, face red, hair mussed. With nimble fingers, he divested me of my shirt. Then he lowered his head and took my breast in his mouth. A sudden heat bloomed between my legs, and I cried out. Encouraged, he grasped my other breast and ran his palm against it. The friction was too much, and with his tongue and teeth and hands combined, I felt a quickening between my legs. I threw my head back, sure this will be the end of me, then I felt the pressure of his hand between my legs, and my knees buckled. His legs tightened against me so I wouldn't fall. Then he eased me backwards and stood up. We faced each other, both breathing hard, hearts hammering. He reached for my skirts and in a few moments, the fabric fluttered down to my feet, and I stood bare before him. His eyes took me in, took all of me in.
"Beautiful," he said. And I believed him.
He picked me up and placed me on the table instead. To my surprise, he knelt before me.
"What are you doing?"
"Worshipping you," he answered, before parting my thighs and placing his eager mouth on my innermost folds.
Oh.
The room disappeared. All sounds faded. All that exists was his tongue and his lips as he devoured me. It was both too much and not enough. I bent my head back and cried out, my legs wrapped around his head. Hearing me made him moan against my folds.
"So wet for me, my love," he murmured. I opened my eyes and looked down at him. He was watching me. He held my eyes as he inserted a finger inside me, questing. Then. There. Finding its mark, he pressed. Light bloomed at the edges of my vision. I had no breath. I am becoming undone so very quickly.
"Aleksander," I pleaded. "Sasha."
"Not yet." He slowed his pace, and I found myself teetering on the edge, just so. He stayed at that pace, coaxing me closer to coming, then easing me away, then coaxing again. It was unbearable. My head felt feverish.
"Sasha, please." He gave my core a final, possessive kiss, then climbed up over me to take my mouth in his.
I don't know which was headier, the taste of me on his lips or the sounds of his buckle as he worked to get his trousers off. I felt them slide down to the floor, and Aleksander stood naked before me. His eyes invited me to look him over. So I did. My Sasha. So beautiful, all slim muscle and smooth, pale skin, his desire making itself known to me. I pulled my eyes away from the sight and looked up into his face, and he was gazing at me quietly.
"Am I enough?"
My heart skipped a beat. There it is again. His cursed vulnerability. "Just enough," I managed, teasing.
"Just?" A smile tugged at the corners of his lips, bruised red with our efforts. He approached me and took me in his arms again.
"Yes, just." Then he placed his hand between my legs again, and I was silenced. He teased me back, fingers brushing over my most sensitive part, before placing his fingers inside me. I gasped.
"How about now?" He lowered his head to my neck, and sank his teeth into me.
For a moment I was unable to answer. Then I managed a shrug. I felt him laugh, and he pushed me gently back onto the table. I propped myself up with my elbows. His fingers slid out of me and I cried out in protest, until it was replaced with something much bigger. He teased me with his tip, pushing in just enough, and I felt myself yielding, allowing him. My legs locked around him, not giving him a chance to escape.
"Now?" His voice was rough, and he was no longer smiling. The pressure of him pushing against my opening was too much, and I wanted nothing more than to feel all of him inside me. "How about now, Alina?"
"More than enough," I managed to say, and he gripped me harder, and pushed all the way in. I felt like dying. I felt my fingers and toes overcome with tremors. I felt overheated, and my head was spinning. It's all too much. I dropped down lower to the desk, weakened. He bent over me, elbows resting by my head, hands in my hair, eyes open. Taking everything in. We stayed that way for a while, both savoring the feel of him deep inside me. For the first time. His soft hair was trailing against my face, and I looked at his gray eyes, nearly black with want, and knew, through our tether, that there is nothing else on his mind except us and now. And then a new emotion came on. A sense of relief.
"You're still here," he remarked, in wonder. And he began to move. I am helpless. I am vanquished. I am nothing but pliant, eager flesh beneath his mouth, his fingers, his hips. I matched his movements with mine, hands roving over the planes of his body frantically. Trying to hold the shape of him to memory. He grabbed one of my legs and placed it over his shoulder, opening me wider, and he thrusted deeper into me. I gave a small cry as a sharp pain bloomed inside me - he's in too deep, but the pain was soon replaced with an intense sweetness, gathering strength. I moaned his name. The table moved backwards with each thrust, until it was flush against the wall. My arms reached up and found purchase on the wall. I held on and pushed myself against him, again and again, our bodies moving in one perfect rhythm. He whispered my name against my lips, once, twice, three times in a row. His sweat dripped on me and I can taste the salt of it on my tongue. I raised my head and licked the sweat off his forehead, his nose, before claiming his mouth again. I moaned as I felt myself getting dragged towards the edge again. So close, so close.
"Come for me." He quickened his pace, and I braced my hands against the wall as I felt myself become undone.
"Yes," I tried to say, before the waves crashed over me. A keening moan escaped my throat as I came, convulsing around him, gripping him tighter. He cursed under his breath as he let me ride my high, not allowing himself the relief of giving in. My breath came out ragged, my heart hammering in my chest. Then he slowed down and savored the sight of me so thoroughly under his power.
His hands were shaking with effort, but he made himself say, "No matter what happens from now on, moya Sol Koroleva, I will remember you. Like this. With me." Then he pulled out and turned me over, before filling me deeply again. I gripped at the table, my breasts pressed against the wood, still in the afterglow of my coming, and this time he did not hold back. He gripped my shoulders hard, and rode me like an animal in heat. It was debasing. It was everything I ever wanted. I whimpered as I felt myself on the brink of another release.
"Once more," he commanded. Then he gathered my hair in one hand and yanked. Oh, the pain of it. He thrust harder and I felt myself reeling from the violence of it. I came again, quickly, and this time he joined me. His thrusts faltered and I felt him quicken inside me as he filled me, his groans intertwined with mine. Our hips moved slower, then slower, until we both collapsed on the table. He was heavy on my back, solid and reassuring. He buried his face in my hair as his fingers sought mine. And like that, hands clasped, we waited until our breathing slowed down and our heartbeats returned to normal.
"Stay with me a little longer," he said. And knowing this is farewell, I said, "Alright."
Just this once, I'm alright with being wrong in the dark. Just for tonight, I let myself be overcome.