"This?" she echoed tentatively. Genya wasn't sure what he was asking. Or if even knew what he was asking. She didn't want to mistake his request for something else and turn this into something perverse. Maybe she was just as perverse as the old man now. He'd ruined her. He'd poured his poison into her. She didn't want to accidentally infect Aleksander with it.
He was a wolf. He had the form of a man, but he hadn't been one in fifty years. She still wanted to give him what he wanted. It was also dawning on her that she wanted the touch as well. She'd been craving it all morning, hadn't she?
He inhaled her scent at her throat. Her lips lightly brushed along his forehead then she gently tilted his chin up to look at her. "You can have whatever you'd like, Aleksander." She meant that.
Her fingertips guided him as sure as any leash, not that he felt collared or even wanted to jerk away from it. Dark eyes met blue, long lashes slightly obscuring the golden rings as they drifted half-closed.
“…touch,” he whispered tentatively. Had he misstepped? Asked for too much? After what she’d endured beneath the old man, perhaps that was indeed asking for too much.
But animal honesty compelled him to admit, “…I have never known a kind hand. You are the only one to… to ever touch me without pain.” Even his first master, the aged wise sorcerer, hadn’t been overly tactile. He’d viewed the young pup as a student, a creature to be taught, not coddled.
“…it is…soothing. Comforting.” His eyes closed fully and he exhaled a soft snort through his nose, saying, “ I don’t understand why, but it…is.” Lifting his lashes again, he whispered, wary of giving offense or overstepping, “…is…is that wrong?”
"Oh, Aleksander. It's not wrong at all," she sighed. Her eyes shined with her pain for him. He told her not to sorrow for him, but could she not? He was so earnest and uncertain like he wasn't worthy of asking her such a thing. The world had been much too cruel to him. She cupped his face gently then pressed her lips to forehead. She let the kiss linger as she poured all her kindness and tenderness into it. She would show him a kind touch. He would never know any other from her.
"Come here," she told him. Genya settled back on the couch. She coaxed him to lay down on the couch and to rest his head in her lap. She stroked her fingers through his hair while the other ran up and down his back. "Is this good?" she asked.
If he needed more or something different, she wanted to offer it to him. The fire burned and kept them warm. She didn't need it. Aleksander's body was plenty warm for her.
He smelled her tears, and he started to ask her again not to sorrow for something as lowly as he, but before he could, Genya gently took his face in her hands and brought his forehead to her lips, pressing them to his skin and igniting a flash of head beneath it. It made him silently gasp, froze in her hands.
But she wasn't yet done with him, because before he could even fathom a response, she coaxed him down with her, settling his head in her lap as if it were something they did every single day. Despite himself, Aleksander settled like a sinking ship, feeling a sudden warmth course over him, along with a strange churning deep in his gut.
The fire filled the room with warmth, he wasn't rawly starving, and Genya was so soft and sweet and fragrant beneath and beside him. His skin rippled where she touched it, whipcord muscles sliding beneath her hand, and he tilted his head into her caressing fingers. He couldn't help but allow his eyes to drift closed, a low, thrumming rumble beginning in the depths of his chest.
The book could wait until later. This was much more important. They both needed this. Genya craved his close contact. He needed a kind touch. They were both starved for this kind of sweet intimacy that neither of them had ever experienced in their lives. She felt his chest rumble with something like a purr. Did wolves purr? She wasn't sure, but Aleksander was unique in so many ways.
A little nap wouldn't hurt either of them. She started to massage along his back and shoulders too. She gently worked the tension from the tight, sinewy muscles. Then, she began to sing.
It was a song her mother used to sing to her as a girl. A lullaby in Old Ravkan. It was a song she sang softly to herself whenever she felt truly broken down by the Lantsovs. It always brought her comfort. She wanted to give it to him too.
The song was about a wolf chasing the crescent moon to jump over her curves, but he could never quite reach her. How fitting that she sang it to a wolf now.
He began to relax one muscle at the time. Slowly, he melted further into her lap, sinking down into the couch cushions as she continued to pet him. He'd never known this, not in five centuries had he ever had anyone just...comfort him. Touch him without an ulterior motive.
A soft sound entered the quiet, and he realized Genya had begun to sing. The words were Old Ravkan, a language he'd not heard in decades. The lullaby wasn't familiar, but it was a lovely melody regardless. He rubbed his cheek against her thigh, its scruffiness slightly rough on her bare skin.
Perhaps to return the comforting favor, a large hand curled around her calf, lightly rubbing from knee to ankle. He didn't interrupt or speak until she fell silent, and stirred only slightly to say, "...alas that wolves can't fly, no?"
She thought he'd fallen asleep by the time her song finished. He was breathing so deeply and slowly. Is this what it was like when he was completely relaxed? She liked the way it looked on him. She chuckled when she realized he wasn't quite asleep yet. His hand rubbed along her calf up and down. It felt nice. It felt nice to be touched without demand. She liked being touched when she wanted it.
"You've done many impossible things these last twenty four hours. I'm sure you'd find a way if you needed to fly," she teased him. She gently tugged his hair then massaged the spot right after. Her back sank against the couch. She'd never felt so content and at ease. There was nothing that needed to be done. No one was demanding her time and attention. She didn't have to fear.
This felt like their own private world. She didn't want to ever leave it.
He huffed a soft chuckle, acceding the point. "I would try," he agreed, fingertips ghosting lightly over her soft skin, "if you wanted me to." A moment later, he shifted a bit, turning enough to gaze up at her from over his shoulder. "...are you the moon, Genya Safin?"
A corner of his mouth curved, rare amusement coming to the fore. The hand on her knee rose to touch the back of his fingers to her smooth cheek. "Shall I chase you across the night sky?" Banter wasn't something he'd ever truly done; just having a conversation was a novelty. Then his brows twitched, expression turning speculative. "Would you flee from me?"
It was the sweetest, most romantic words ever spoken to her. How could her heart do anything but race at them. He even caressed her cheek gently with his knuckles in a way that made her feel weak in the knees. She was grateful that she was seated. How had this wolf manage to disarm her so completely? They were practically strangers to one another, yet it felt as though they'd known each other for years.
"Never," she said confidently. "Why would I flee from the one good thing I've found in all the darkness?"
She would be his moon or his stars or whatever he'd like her to be. She'd give him whatever he needed. She truly believed he deserved it.
This time, his smile blossomed fully at her response, eclipsing his entire countenance. It was such a foreign expression, but her sincerity had pulled it right out of him. He chuckled, feeling his cheeks heat, but then sat up beside her, rose to his feet and without warning scooped her up in his long arms, her curls swinging as he turned and headed back to the bedroom.
Only to reverently place her back in the still-mussed bed, following her down to settle just like a pet right beside her, long arms winding around her waist and his head nestling beneath her chin. Comfort. Peace. Calm. How he'd come to cherish it.
"I have you trapped," he teased, huffing another warm chuckle against her throat. "The moon and stars, all in one." A long sigh went out of him, along with the words, "...and all mine..."
His smile took her breath away. It was gorgeous. It lit up his entire countenance. She wanted to make him smile like that again. She was so struck by it that he caught her by surprise when he swept her up into his arms. Genya squealed and laughed as she clung to him. She knew that he wouldn't drop, but she had a good excuse to hold on to him.
"The wolf has caught the moon," she chuckled. He set her so gently on the bed. Even playfully dropping her to bounce wasn't an option for him. Aleksander soon crawled next to her and tucked himself comfortably. She brushed a soft kiss to his crown and held him close to her.
"Or perhaps the moon and stars has caught the wolf instead," she teased. Her fingers trailed up and down his spine.
“The wolf is willing,” he murmured, drowsy against her throat. Another rumbled sigh escaped, and he shifted still closer, as it trying to mold every inch of his long body against hers, soaking up her warmth like a greedy thing.
“Wolves always long for the moon,” he murmured after a moment. “‘s why we howl for her each night.” Long-fingered hands delicately mirrored Genya’s, lightly drifting up and down her slim back. His own arched eagerly beneath her touch.
He was slowly drifting off, lulled by her proximity, scent, and touch. A soft whisper gently begged beneath her chin, “…will you stay?”
Aleksander was so warm. She curled right back against him. Their bodies molded and entwined with one another. She liked how he smelled. His scent was soothing. It filled her senses and brought her more peace. She was touched that he thought her the moon and stars. She knew rationally that she was beautiful. She'd seen men and women covet her beauty before, but she'd never truly felt it. Not after the old man.
"There's nowhere else I'd rather be, sweetheart," she told him softly. Genya meant every single word. This was miles better than the manor. She wanted to stay here with him where they were warm and safe. She nuzzled against his hair and closed her eyes. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."
It was…odd, the swiftly growing connection he felt with this woman, this human. Perhaps because they were both so broken, had been alone all of their lives, and the shattered prices of their souls had simply latched to the first non-threatening thing to come along.
Though, he knew he owed her his life; without her he’d still be slowly rotting behind those steel bars in Lantsov’s basement.
Genya soothed him, petted him, whispered sweet words into his hungry ears, and the wolf gradually sank all the way into the mattress, loose and replete. He felt her gentle nuzzle, returning the gesture with both his nose against her throat and an unthought, slow, warm lap of his tongue against her beating pulse.
An animal’s drowsy affection.
He then gave a slight sniff, a short sigh, and grew still in her arms, dropping into sleep between one breath and the next.
Maybe it wasn't healthy, but what did it really matter? Nothing in their lives had been healthy. If this brought them some comfort, why shouldn't they hold on to it? Aleksander asked for so little. All he wanted was her kind touch and warmth. She could easily do that. She continued to stroke up and down his back to help him fall into a deep slumber. She felt the drowsiness beginning to pull her down as well. She gasped softly at the brush of his tongue. It sent an electric spark through her. It filled her with a searing heat that surprised and confused her.
She'd never wanted like this.
His body relaxed as he fell asleep. Her mind was spinning a little from the touch. She reasoned that he was a wolf. Wolves did that. It didn't mean anything. It was just a show of affection. That was all. She kept telling herself that even as she dozed off.
Wolves never slept more than a few hours at a time; survival reflex, that. So when the human wolf opened his eyes, he surprisingly felt so heavy, lethargic and groggy. Gaze bleary, he halfheartedly shook his head, trying to clear it, but the fog refused to dissipate. Dimly, Aleksander realized that he was sweating, skin clammy and damp beneath the stifling shirt. Still half-asleep, he irritably tugged the clinging fabric over his head, dropping it unconcernedly before shucking out of the jeans, shivering a bit to feel the slightly cool air nip at his bare skin. Much better.
A glance beside him revealed his companion (and pillow) still deeply asleep, and a jaw-cracking yawn suggested that returning to her in slumber was a positively magnificent idea. So he did, sidling beneath the heavy quilt to once more wedge himself into Genya's soft arms, planting his nose right at the curve of her neck and shoulder, where her scent constantly filled his nose with every breath. It was warm in their cozy nest, but not as stifling as it'd been before.
Sleeping in heavy clothing was just bloody uncomfortable.
Genya didn't stir much when Aleksander extricated himself from her. She continued to sleep deeply. She was relaxed and comfortable in her long sleeve shirt. She wasn't even cold because the quilt trapped his heat in. It kept her cozy and warm. She rolled over go lay in her side in her slumber. She curled up with her curled fist tucked beneath her chin. She sighed in contentment when her unconscious mind registered Aleksander's molding around her.
She let out a sleepy huff then continued slumbering. It was about an hour later when she started to wake naturally. She'd dreamt though she didn't remember it much. It wasn't of the old man or the manor, so she was grateful for that.
It took her a few moments for her situational awareness to return to her. She knew she was napping in bed with Aleksander. She knew he was holding her close. His arms were tucked around her. She felt his soft breath against her neck.
She was content to lay there quietly while she continued to become more alert, but when she felt the press of warm skin against her, her eyes popped open. Her shirt had ridden up in her sleep. Her panty covered bottom was nestled against Aleksander's front rather intimately.
A bolt of heat shot through her. She bit her lip to keep from groaning. Her reaction was totally inappropriate. He wanted a kind touch. Not a woman coveting his body. She was so disappointed in herself. He deserved better. She was going to give him that. Quietly, she tried to wiggle herself free from his hold.
He'd never felt so comfortable. In five hundred years, he'd never slept so deeply or so well. No nightmares, no memories, no horrid ghosts returning to haunt him during slumber, to make his unconscious hours absolute hell. Instead, he was cradled in a warm, fragrant nest, comforted by a soft, lush pillow that unfortunately began to move far too early for his liking.
Brows furrowing and nose wrinkling, Aleksander growled lightly under his breath, not really willing to relinquish his hold on his comfortable bulwark just yet. But it kept wiggling, and the increasing movement was finally enough to pull him out of true sleep and into half-wakefulness, shaking his head and giving a light huff before blinking his eyes open, seeing Genya trying to get free.
He instantly dropped his hands, hurriedly jerking away. He had no right to keep her, or to deter her from leaving, absolutely none at all. The moment that his body left hers, it actually hurt; a sharp kick down in his gut that had nothing whatsoever to do with fear or pain. The immediate memory of her soft warmth cuddled against this human body roiled through his mind and both his teeth and fists clenched - he wasn't just a baseless animal!
Or worse, Old Man Lantsov.
So he avoided her eye, kept his face averted, and unobtrusively slunk to the far edge of their shared bed, hunched and withdrawn. Scarred skin still bare, he shivered from cold, but he didn't dare take one of the blankets; those were human things. His clothes were scattered across the floor, but he wouldn't move until given leave; centuries of conditioning at its worst.
She was trying to be as discreet as possible, so she wouldn't disturb him. It was all for naught because the wolf was hyper sensitive to everything. He'd noticed her trying to escape, but it seemed as though he'd gotten the wrong reasoning behind it. He let her go as if he'd been burned. Aleksander drew away so quickly that it left her mind spinning. He was curled up and facing the other way by the time she processed it.
He shivered. The poor darling. He refused to take any creature comforts. Genya had wanted to protect him from what she was, but he had he wrong idea. Just as quickly, she was curled around him. Her fingers stroked along his sides. She pressed her front into his back and held him close.
"I didn't meant to wake you," she soothed. She felt the guilt lancing through her. All she wanted to do was protect him. She pressed a tender kiss to the nape of his neck and then another behind his ear. "You're cold."
She pulled at the quilt and blankets to cover them both up. She warmed him with her body too. "You're okay," she crooned to him. Her fingertips stroked up and down his side and then along his chest and abdomen. "I didn't mean to scare you."
This time, he did flinch when she touched him, instinctively hunching further even when she wrapped her arms around him, pressing warm and close. He opened his mouth to say that he hadn't been afraid, but closed it just as quickly, because that was too much of a lie. He'd been terrified. Afraid of wanting what he couldn't ever have.
Warmth, comfort, home.
Genya tried again to soothe him, pulling the blankets around them both and stroking, petting him with soft gentle hands, but he shied away from her gestures, finally ending up on his knees on the cold floor.
His clothes he eyed with animal distaste, but slithered into them anyway to try and curtail the shivering, then shook his head without meeting her eyes. "...I shouldn't have," he heard himself bitterly say. "I'm not a human. I can't have human things." A lovely woman, warm in his arms. His upper lip lifted in a snarl, but it was aimed inward, never at her.
"--I don't...I don't belong...in here. I never have."
It made Genya ache. The way he pulled away from her broke her heart. It wasn't what she wanted. It felt like she'd set him several steps back. He shied away from her. The distance grew into a chasm until he was on the floor. He didn't want to be anywhere near her. She heard him disparage himself. She didn't know how to teach him. Now that he'd practically scrambled away from her, she was hesitant to reach out again. She perched on the edge of the bed.
"Of course you can. You're a wolf and you have a human form," she soothed. Slowly, she reached out and tentatively ran her fingers through his hair. She massaged his scalp to help him relax. "You belong, sweetheart. You belong here with me. Remember? We're in this together. Together or not at all."
She hoped that was still the case. She'd come to lean on him so heavily. She thought they could do that for each other. Drawing in a breath, she tried to get the words out to explain. "I-- I'm ruined, Aleksander. Lantsov turned me into this dirty, awful thing that can't recognize or make healthy relationships," she admitted haltingly. She curled her knees to her chest and heaved a heavy sigh. "I felt things I shouldn't have with you so close one. I didn't want to make you uncomfortable. You deserve better."
He shuddered when he felt her fingers in his hair. It soothed him, so much, and that was the problem. She shouldn't be comforting him. He was a murderer, a living weapon, a set of fangs and claws in the Shadow. Sweetheart, she called him, and he wanted to melt. Sink back into her lap and hide until the hurt faded away.
But then it was Genya's turn to pull away, to breathe out that terrible confession that the Old Man would pay for with his life, and again a snarl rippled his lip, a growl rattled low in his throat.
They were both ruined. So broken. Shattered.
Rage suddenly flooded through him, but there was nothing here to shred. Wolves didn't typically bother with anger or hatred, but the human in him felt it, and felt it so keenly. It shot him up on his feet, panting harshly, long-fingered hands curved into claws that ached to rend and tear. But there was nothing here to destroy, nothing upon which to slake his aggressive terror.
He had to settle for raking his fingernails across the aesthetically rustic wooden wall, leaving sharp scratches in the pine. A fist slammed into it a few times, too, the impact enough to shake the ceiling and rattle the glass in the window. It wasn't nearly enough, but after he scented and saw his own blood staining his knuckles, he whirled and once more went to his knees, but this time it was at the edge of the bed where Genya still huddled.
Large hands planted on either side of her, caging her in, but the expression on the wolf's human face was filled with anything but rage. Aleksander shook his head again, plaintive. Afraid. "--you didn't," he panted. "--make me uncomfortable." Quite the opposite. "I didn't--I didn't want to let go." He dropped his head, but didn't dare rest in her lap. "...what did you feel?" was the whisper that came after. "Tell me...tell me, please."
Because she hadn't been the only one to feel...something, and it had terrified him, that unfamiliar, powerful urge.
"Aleksander," she called out. She wasn't afraid by his violent outburst. She was more worried about him hurting himself. He quickly came to her on his knees. Her hands took his to study and inspect the damage he'd caused to himself. She wiped the blood away with the hem of her shirt. She waited for him to calm a little. He was breathless and filled with such emotion.
She owed him her honesty. Even if it was difficult for her to say. She sucked in a slow breath. Her eyes were remained on his hands as she dutifully cleaned his fingers and nails of blood.
"I wanted your touch. More of it," she whispered. Her cheeks were on fire with shame and mortification. How base and filthy she was. "You felt so good against me. I felt-- need. Desire. I'd never felt it before. I've never actually wanted touch like that before. I shouldn't have. I don't want to take advantage of you."
The skin over his knuckles was torn, but it would heal. He'd shaken off worse wounds and paid them no mind now. But he didn't dissuade her from her doctoring, also turning his eyes to their hands. It seemed a safer place to look.
He scented her unease, her shame, and heard the rush of her blood beneath her skin, staining it a pretty pink, and still it puzzled him. "...desire," he echoed, nostrils flaring, head tilting curiously. His fingers flexed beneath hers. He knew what it was, of course, but had nothing to compare to it. "Is...is that what it is? To want touch? To feel...warm beneath it?"
Was desire the urge to slowly run his hands over the expanse of her skin, learning its silky texture by touch alone? Was it wanting to taste her with his tongue from head to heel? Was it also a burning wish to drown in the sound of her voice, to fall into her and never be alone again? If so, he had to damn himself in turn, for his dreams had consisted of all of that and little else. And when she'd woken, squirmed away, he'd been so afraid of losing it...losing her.
His hand in hers turned, long fingers once more lacing together. "...I didn't want to let go," he quietly confessed, filled with just as much shame and shyness. "I was...afraid."
"Yes," she said shyly. The heat spread from her cheeks to the rest of her body. She felt hot all over. Everything he said was what she felt. She craved to feel his touch and the press of his body. She wondered what his lips would taste like upon hers. Did he taste like the evergreen and snow he smelled like? He laced heir fingers together, so she slowly lifted her gaze to look at him.
"I didn't want to let go either. I like how you feel against me. You're warm and you feel good," she admitted. She brought their joined hands up to brush her lips along his knuckles. "You don't have to be afraid. I'm not going anywhere."
That was a promise. They were stuck together now. She was worried about overwhelming him. Or taking advantage of him. "I'm afraid of ruining you."
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ninetydegrees
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on 2023-11-13 09:08 pm (UTC)He was a wolf. He had the form of a man, but he hadn't been one in fifty years. She still wanted to give him what he wanted. It was also dawning on her that she wanted the touch as well. She'd been craving it all morning, hadn't she?
He inhaled her scent at her throat. Her lips lightly brushed along his forehead then she gently tilted his chin up to look at her. "You can have whatever you'd like, Aleksander." She meant that.
no subject
on 2023-11-13 10:32 pm (UTC)“…touch,” he whispered tentatively. Had he misstepped? Asked for too much? After what she’d endured beneath the old man, perhaps that was indeed asking for too much.
But animal honesty compelled him to admit, “…I have never known a kind hand. You are the only one to… to ever touch me without pain.” Even his first master, the aged wise sorcerer, hadn’t been overly tactile. He’d viewed the young pup as a student, a creature to be taught, not coddled.
“…it is…soothing. Comforting.” His eyes closed fully and he exhaled a soft snort through his nose, saying, “ I don’t understand why, but it…is.” Lifting his lashes again, he whispered, wary of giving offense or overstepping, “…is…is that wrong?”
no subject
on 2023-11-14 12:35 am (UTC)"Come here," she told him. Genya settled back on the couch. She coaxed him to lay down on the couch and to rest his head in her lap. She stroked her fingers through his hair while the other ran up and down his back. "Is this good?" she asked.
If he needed more or something different, she wanted to offer it to him. The fire burned and kept them warm. She didn't need it. Aleksander's body was plenty warm for her.
no subject
on 2023-11-14 01:22 am (UTC)But she wasn't yet done with him, because before he could even fathom a response, she coaxed him down with her, settling his head in her lap as if it were something they did every single day. Despite himself, Aleksander settled like a sinking ship, feeling a sudden warmth course over him, along with a strange churning deep in his gut.
The fire filled the room with warmth, he wasn't rawly starving, and Genya was so soft and sweet and fragrant beneath and beside him. His skin rippled where she touched it, whipcord muscles sliding beneath her hand, and he tilted his head into her caressing fingers. He couldn't help but allow his eyes to drift closed, a low, thrumming rumble beginning in the depths of his chest.
It was good. So very, very good.
no subject
on 2023-11-14 01:41 am (UTC)A little nap wouldn't hurt either of them. She started to massage along his back and shoulders too. She gently worked the tension from the tight, sinewy muscles. Then, she began to sing.
It was a song her mother used to sing to her as a girl. A lullaby in Old Ravkan. It was a song she sang softly to herself whenever she felt truly broken down by the Lantsovs. It always brought her comfort. She wanted to give it to him too.
The song was about a wolf chasing the crescent moon to jump over her curves, but he could never quite reach her. How fitting that she sang it to a wolf now.
no subject
on 2023-11-14 01:56 am (UTC)A soft sound entered the quiet, and he realized Genya had begun to sing. The words were Old Ravkan, a language he'd not heard in decades. The lullaby wasn't familiar, but it was a lovely melody regardless. He rubbed his cheek against her thigh, its scruffiness slightly rough on her bare skin.
Perhaps to return the comforting favor, a large hand curled around her calf, lightly rubbing from knee to ankle. He didn't interrupt or speak until she fell silent, and stirred only slightly to say, "...alas that wolves can't fly, no?"
no subject
on 2023-11-14 02:12 am (UTC)"You've done many impossible things these last twenty four hours. I'm sure you'd find a way if you needed to fly," she teased him. She gently tugged his hair then massaged the spot right after. Her back sank against the couch. She'd never felt so content and at ease. There was nothing that needed to be done. No one was demanding her time and attention. She didn't have to fear.
This felt like their own private world. She didn't want to ever leave it.
no subject
on 2023-11-14 02:27 am (UTC)A corner of his mouth curved, rare amusement coming to the fore. The hand on her knee rose to touch the back of his fingers to her smooth cheek. "Shall I chase you across the night sky?" Banter wasn't something he'd ever truly done; just having a conversation was a novelty. Then his brows twitched, expression turning speculative. "Would you flee from me?"
no subject
on 2023-11-14 02:43 am (UTC)"Never," she said confidently. "Why would I flee from the one good thing I've found in all the darkness?"
She would be his moon or his stars or whatever he'd like her to be. She'd give him whatever he needed. She truly believed he deserved it.
no subject
on 2023-11-14 03:06 am (UTC)Only to reverently place her back in the still-mussed bed, following her down to settle just like a pet right beside her, long arms winding around her waist and his head nestling beneath her chin. Comfort. Peace. Calm. How he'd come to cherish it.
"I have you trapped," he teased, huffing another warm chuckle against her throat. "The moon and stars, all in one." A long sigh went out of him, along with the words, "...and all mine..."
no subject
on 2023-11-14 03:40 pm (UTC)"The wolf has caught the moon," she chuckled. He set her so gently on the bed. Even playfully dropping her to bounce wasn't an option for him. Aleksander soon crawled next to her and tucked himself comfortably. She brushed a soft kiss to his crown and held him close to her.
"Or perhaps the moon and stars has caught the wolf instead," she teased. Her fingers trailed up and down his spine.
no subject
on 2023-11-14 07:13 pm (UTC)“Wolves always long for the moon,” he murmured after a moment. “‘s why we howl for her each night.” Long-fingered hands delicately mirrored Genya’s, lightly drifting up and down her slim back. His own arched eagerly beneath her touch.
He was slowly drifting off, lulled by her proximity, scent, and touch. A soft whisper gently begged beneath her chin, “…will you stay?”
no subject
on 2023-11-14 09:01 pm (UTC)"There's nowhere else I'd rather be, sweetheart," she told him softly. Genya meant every single word. This was miles better than the manor. She wanted to stay here with him where they were warm and safe. She nuzzled against his hair and closed her eyes. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."
no subject
on 2023-11-14 09:27 pm (UTC)Though, he knew he owed her his life; without her he’d still be slowly rotting behind those steel bars in Lantsov’s basement.
Genya soothed him, petted him, whispered sweet words into his hungry ears, and the wolf gradually sank all the way into the mattress, loose and replete. He felt her gentle nuzzle, returning the gesture with both his nose against her throat and an unthought, slow, warm lap of his tongue against her beating pulse.
An animal’s drowsy affection.
He then gave a slight sniff, a short sigh, and grew still in her arms, dropping into sleep between one breath and the next.
no subject
on 2023-11-14 09:50 pm (UTC)She'd never wanted like this.
His body relaxed as he fell asleep. Her mind was spinning a little from the touch. She reasoned that he was a wolf. Wolves did that. It didn't mean anything. It was just a show of affection. That was all. She kept telling herself that even as she dozed off.
no subject
on 2023-11-15 03:10 am (UTC)A glance beside him revealed his companion (and pillow) still deeply asleep, and a jaw-cracking yawn suggested that returning to her in slumber was a positively magnificent idea. So he did, sidling beneath the heavy quilt to once more wedge himself into Genya's soft arms, planting his nose right at the curve of her neck and shoulder, where her scent constantly filled his nose with every breath. It was warm in their cozy nest, but not as stifling as it'd been before.
Sleeping in heavy clothing was just bloody uncomfortable.
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on 2023-11-15 04:09 pm (UTC)She let out a sleepy huff then continued slumbering. It was about an hour later when she started to wake naturally. She'd dreamt though she didn't remember it much. It wasn't of the old man or the manor, so she was grateful for that.
It took her a few moments for her situational awareness to return to her. She knew she was napping in bed with Aleksander. She knew he was holding her close. His arms were tucked around her. She felt his soft breath against her neck.
She was content to lay there quietly while she continued to become more alert, but when she felt the press of warm skin against her, her eyes popped open. Her shirt had ridden up in her sleep. Her panty covered bottom was nestled against Aleksander's front rather intimately.
A bolt of heat shot through her. She bit her lip to keep from groaning. Her reaction was totally inappropriate. He wanted a kind touch. Not a woman coveting his body. She was so disappointed in herself. He deserved better. She was going to give him that. Quietly, she tried to wiggle herself free from his hold.
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on 2023-11-18 10:02 pm (UTC)Brows furrowing and nose wrinkling, Aleksander growled lightly under his breath, not really willing to relinquish his hold on his comfortable bulwark just yet. But it kept wiggling, and the increasing movement was finally enough to pull him out of true sleep and into half-wakefulness, shaking his head and giving a light huff before blinking his eyes open, seeing Genya trying to get free.
He instantly dropped his hands, hurriedly jerking away. He had no right to keep her, or to deter her from leaving, absolutely none at all. The moment that his body left hers, it actually hurt; a sharp kick down in his gut that had nothing whatsoever to do with fear or pain. The immediate memory of her soft warmth cuddled against this human body roiled through his mind and both his teeth and fists clenched - he wasn't just a baseless animal!
Or worse, Old Man Lantsov.
So he avoided her eye, kept his face averted, and unobtrusively slunk to the far edge of their shared bed, hunched and withdrawn. Scarred skin still bare, he shivered from cold, but he didn't dare take one of the blankets; those were human things. His clothes were scattered across the floor, but he wouldn't move until given leave; centuries of conditioning at its worst.
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on 2023-11-18 10:17 pm (UTC)He shivered. The poor darling. He refused to take any creature comforts. Genya had wanted to protect him from what she was, but he had he wrong idea. Just as quickly, she was curled around him. Her fingers stroked along his sides. She pressed her front into his back and held him close.
"I didn't meant to wake you," she soothed. She felt the guilt lancing through her. All she wanted to do was protect him. She pressed a tender kiss to the nape of his neck and then another behind his ear. "You're cold."
She pulled at the quilt and blankets to cover them both up. She warmed him with her body too. "You're okay," she crooned to him. Her fingertips stroked up and down his side and then along his chest and abdomen. "I didn't mean to scare you."
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on 2023-11-18 11:27 pm (UTC)Warmth, comfort, home.
Genya tried again to soothe him, pulling the blankets around them both and stroking, petting him with soft gentle hands, but he shied away from her gestures, finally ending up on his knees on the cold floor.
His clothes he eyed with animal distaste, but slithered into them anyway to try and curtail the shivering, then shook his head without meeting her eyes. "...I shouldn't have," he heard himself bitterly say. "I'm not a human. I can't have human things." A lovely woman, warm in his arms. His upper lip lifted in a snarl, but it was aimed inward, never at her.
"--I don't...I don't belong...in here. I never have."
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on 2023-11-19 12:47 am (UTC)"Of course you can. You're a wolf and you have a human form," she soothed. Slowly, she reached out and tentatively ran her fingers through his hair. She massaged his scalp to help him relax. "You belong, sweetheart. You belong here with me. Remember? We're in this together. Together or not at all."
She hoped that was still the case. She'd come to lean on him so heavily. She thought they could do that for each other. Drawing in a breath, she tried to get the words out to explain. "I-- I'm ruined, Aleksander. Lantsov turned me into this dirty, awful thing that can't recognize or make healthy relationships," she admitted haltingly. She curled her knees to her chest and heaved a heavy sigh. "I felt things I shouldn't have with you so close one. I didn't want to make you uncomfortable. You deserve better."
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on 2023-11-19 01:03 am (UTC)But then it was Genya's turn to pull away, to breathe out that terrible confession that the Old Man would pay for with his life, and again a snarl rippled his lip, a growl rattled low in his throat.
They were both ruined. So broken. Shattered.
Rage suddenly flooded through him, but there was nothing here to shred. Wolves didn't typically bother with anger or hatred, but the human in him felt it, and felt it so keenly. It shot him up on his feet, panting harshly, long-fingered hands curved into claws that ached to rend and tear. But there was nothing here to destroy, nothing upon which to slake his aggressive terror.
He had to settle for raking his fingernails across the aesthetically rustic wooden wall, leaving sharp scratches in the pine. A fist slammed into it a few times, too, the impact enough to shake the ceiling and rattle the glass in the window. It wasn't nearly enough, but after he scented and saw his own blood staining his knuckles, he whirled and once more went to his knees, but this time it was at the edge of the bed where Genya still huddled.
Large hands planted on either side of her, caging her in, but the expression on the wolf's human face was filled with anything but rage. Aleksander shook his head again, plaintive. Afraid. "--you didn't," he panted. "--make me uncomfortable." Quite the opposite. "I didn't--I didn't want to let go." He dropped his head, but didn't dare rest in her lap. "...what did you feel?" was the whisper that came after. "Tell me...tell me, please."
Because she hadn't been the only one to feel...something, and it had terrified him, that unfamiliar, powerful urge.
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on 2023-11-19 01:41 am (UTC)She owed him her honesty. Even if it was difficult for her to say. She sucked in a slow breath. Her eyes were remained on his hands as she dutifully cleaned his fingers and nails of blood.
"I wanted your touch. More of it," she whispered. Her cheeks were on fire with shame and mortification. How base and filthy she was. "You felt so good against me. I felt-- need. Desire. I'd never felt it before. I've never actually wanted touch like that before. I shouldn't have. I don't want to take advantage of you."
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on 2023-11-19 01:55 am (UTC)He scented her unease, her shame, and heard the rush of her blood beneath her skin, staining it a pretty pink, and still it puzzled him. "...desire," he echoed, nostrils flaring, head tilting curiously. His fingers flexed beneath hers. He knew what it was, of course, but had nothing to compare to it. "Is...is that what it is? To want touch? To feel...warm beneath it?"
Was desire the urge to slowly run his hands over the expanse of her skin, learning its silky texture by touch alone? Was it wanting to taste her with his tongue from head to heel? Was it also a burning wish to drown in the sound of her voice, to fall into her and never be alone again? If so, he had to damn himself in turn, for his dreams had consisted of all of that and little else. And when she'd woken, squirmed away, he'd been so afraid of losing it...losing her.
His hand in hers turned, long fingers once more lacing together. "...I didn't want to let go," he quietly confessed, filled with just as much shame and shyness. "I was...afraid."
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on 2023-11-19 03:28 am (UTC)"I didn't want to let go either. I like how you feel against me. You're warm and you feel good," she admitted. She brought their joined hands up to brush her lips along his knuckles. "You don't have to be afraid. I'm not going anywhere."
That was a promise. They were stuck together now. She was worried about overwhelming him. Or taking advantage of him. "I'm afraid of ruining you."
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