Work Text:
You'd had a stressful day at work. People messing up and you having to clean up after them as they#re rude to you and getting more and more frustrated and needing to be out of there.
When you flung the door open it shook against its hinges and banged back against the wall.
“Holy fuck!” Dmitri flinched, eyes darting over to you. He was sat up against the arm of the sofa draped in his black, silk robe, long fingers shuffling through letters.
You huffed, throwing off your coat over a chair before sinking into it, craning back lazily as your toed off your shoes and kicked them across the room.
“What the fuck was that about?” He gestured to the now wide open door.
“Work.”
“Want to elaborate on that answer?”
You sighed but it came out almost like a whine. “Just was a fucking mess today. I’m done, I’m really fucking done Dmitri.”
His eyes moved over you, taking in how you were slumped in the chair, aware of your eyes darting between his face, his hands, his lap… He slowly moved the letters from his lap and made a point of opening his hand to let them drop in a messy pile on the floor. He didn’t say anything, didn’t make any motion, he just stared at you.
He was so touch-starved when you met him, you both were really, but he was so adamant about not wanting physical affection, so in denial that he wanted, needed, to be touched. It was slow going as you got him more and more used to you brushing against him, taking his arm or hand, resting your head on his shoulder. The first time you’d climbed into his lap, he almost sent you both sprawling out of the chair in his shock. Over time he’d started to get used to it, but it was still pretty impossible for him to ask for you to touch him, or for him to vocalise that it was okay for you to touch him.
You slowly started to move, your first thought to curl up on his lap… But your brain was still itching with the stress and pounding and aching and you just needed it to go away. After having to sort out so much stuff today, you just didn’t want to have to think… you didn’t want to have to be in control.
That was something you’d been nervous to talk to him about. You didn’t bring it up until months of finally saying you were in a relationship, your want to sometimes be submissive, to need someone else to be in control, fully in control, with no control left for yourself. It took him a little time to get his head around, his dark eyes blinking down at you, but he understood, hell he even liked it. You should have expected it really, as you’d gotten closer you realised how possessive he could be. He liked the idea of you being his. He got jealous easily, but you always reassured him you didn’t want anyone else, you only wanted him, praise spilling out from your lips (and you didn’t fail to notice he always seemed very affected by the praise, in fact it even seemed like sometimes when you wanted to be more in charge that he seemed to be barely holding himself together to stay aware).
Your knees thudded against the wooden floor and the sound jolted you out of your train of thought. Your body and subconscious had had their own ideas.
You were knelt by the side of the sofa, head bowed just inches away from his thigh. You could feel him staring at you, eyes probably wide as he took in what was happening, what you were asking him to do. You were aware of your breathing as you waited and hoped he’d indulge you. Minutes went by with no touch, no word from him.
“Aren’t you going to ask me for what you want?” His voice drifted down to you. Of course he couldn’t help but be smug.
“I don’t… Dmitri, I can’t…”
“You can, use your words.”
“I, I don’t know, I just… Need you to make me stop thinking,” Nothing. “Please, make me stop thinking.”
The slightest touch. His fingertips grazed your hairline and you shivered and whined and god you were aware of how desperate you must sound and he chuckled.
“That needy for me, huh? Fucking gorgeous pet.”
You blushed and trembled at the praise and the pet name, the only one you had managed to get him to use, by convincing him it was more authoritative and dominant. And while yes he mainly used it while you were in a subspace, you noticed he’d sometimes slip and say it to you at other times, eyes widening when he caught himself and quickly starting a new sentence.
“You’ll soak up my praise like rewards won’t you? I think I can agree to keep them coming, if you’re good and do what I tell you to. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” You forced your voice louder as you feel is coming out a breathless whisper.
“Good pet,” And those words were all it took to drown out the pounding in your head. Dmitri’s fingers moved along your scalp, pressing down harder and you let him push your head to rest onto his lap. “Now before you came and interrupted me I was reading these letters, so, I'm going to continue and you’re going to stay down there until I’m done. Can you do that?”
“Yes,” You nodded against his thigh.
“Pass me one.”
It took you a second to think through the fog encroaching on your mind, and then you went to lean to pick up one of the letters you’re kneeling in but his hand pressed against your head further.
“You don’t need to move your head for that, do you?” You knew he didn’t want an answer, and you knew his moustache was twitching with the smirk playing on his lips.
You were thankful for the grip on your head, as it wanted to slide and slip against the smooth silk winding down his leg. Your fingers scrambled against the wood, fingernails picking at the edge of the paper, before holding it up for him. He took it from your grip with a hum and the pressure on your head lessened and you missed it. You wonder if he sensed this as you shifted your weight as his fingers began pressing small circles into your skull.
It felt like your breathing was the only sound in the room, only broken up by the occasional rustle of paper. Dmitri held his hand out and you passed him the next letter, your brain still wired, your grip on the paper a little too tight. His fingers pressed harder and you closed your eyes and just willed your brain to shut up. You focused more on the sounds and the feel of his hand and there's the light sound of rustling silk and you glanced up to see Dmitri had pulled his leg up a little and you can see skin and of course he's not fucking wearing anything underneath the robe and you can feel your breathing quicken.
"Fucking relax." He muttered. His voice broke through the air and you realised you were desperate to hear him more, but you knew you had to wait. Closing your eyes again you focused on his hand on your head and the heat from his thigh and how you don't have to think about anything. He's in control. He's here. You were just waiting until he tells you what he wants you to do and you don't have to think or worry about what that might be, and you certainly don't need to think about anything other than him. The whole point of this was to not think about anything at all.
Your arms were slower when they handed him the third letter, muscles becoming lax and lethargic. You aren't having to try and focus on anything, and you didn’t think your brain could focus on much right now even if you wanted it too.
When he's onto the fourth and final letter, you didn’t notice right away. Your eyes were still closed and your head was drifting. He gave too light smacks to the back of your head and you go to look up at him, completely forgetting what you're supposed to be doing, but he holds you in place. You nuzzled into his thigh, embarrassment is non-existent to you right now. His hand came into view and you forced your arms to move to hand him the last piece of paper.
You could have sworn this letter looked the shortest, but he seemed to be taking even longer to read it. It’s on purpose, you thought, he's drawing this out now. Or maybe now that your brain was starting to become lighter and float any sense of time has evaporated.
"You're being very good for me, you know." He said is so nonchalantly, as if you both didn't know where this would be leading. His leg had shifted more, drawn up against himself and you strain your eyes, staring into your own eyelids, as you try to see more. You want to touch him, you want to push the robe aside and press your lips where the silk has graced him.
"Please..." You whined.
He paused, you feel his leg tense against you, his fingers lightly grabbing at strands of your hair.
"Move back," And then he was twisting on the seat and you were moving without thinking and his feet planted down next to each of your knees. You gazed up at him and he looked impatient, muscles in his face twitching. The letter was creased from the tight fist his hand has drawn itself into. "God, you're fucking good like this. So ready to do whatever I ask, finally someone who just does what they're fucking told."
His hand captured your chin and you could feel the cool metal of his ring from his pinky finger. He pulled you forward until your chin was resting against the sofa cushion, head encapsulated by his thighs.
"I think you know what I want you to do," You didn’t move, you thought you knew, but the possibility of being wrong crept in. "Shall I tell you anyway?" Your eyes darted up, lip parted in a silent plea. He smiled at you and though the smugness is still there, it's less like a smirk and instead something more genuine.
"Get me nice and ready to fuck you. Put that little mouth to good work and put it around my cock," He was never one for dancing around what he wants, just says what he means, there's no flowery words there.
But fuck it's exactly what you want to.
You reached up and traced your thumbs along where the black silk hangs over his pale skin, a bold contrast. Slowly you moved forward and pushed your hands up, dark curtains falling away to reveal cold porcelain. Your hands shivered against him, you swore Dmitri was cold-blooded, and he took great pleasure in plastering his cold skin against yours, and especially in shoving his cold hands underneath your clothes when he returns back to the house from the cold Lutz air.
You placed kisses from the inside of his knee and up his thighs as his breathing hitched and you knew it would make him impatient but you couldn’t help it, you can’t help but want to worship him sometimes.
"Fucking get on with it-" He grumbled and bit his lip to stifle his words that changed into a moan as you flicked your tongue over the head of his cock.
You started slowly, not knowing how quickly he wanted to get off, but you pulled your mind from thinking and instead focusing on the noises Dmitri was making and failing to hide. Bringing a hand up to cover what you couldn't reach without choking, you kept a steady pace, stopping thinking about what he could want, knowing that he’d tell you or make you take more of him.
It wasn't long before there was a hand pressing down on the back of your head. You took the hint and started bobbing your head faster, moving the hand gripping the base of his cock and turning it with every stroke.
Dmitri's fingers curled into your hair, his grip tight and focused, and pushed down on your head. "You can be good for me and take more than that, right?"
The hand you had stroking his cock slid up and splayed against his pelvis. You moved fast and hollowed your cheeks and with his hand still pushing on your head his hips bucked up and his cock hit the back of your throat. You pushed back against him, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. Focusing on taking steady breaths through your nose with each thrust into your mouth you relaxed your throat and after a couple thrusts you aren't gagging around him anymore.
He was muttering an array of swearwords above you and bucked his hips a little harsher and as you moved back his hand pulled and you let him move you off his cock.
You looked at him, assuming your eyes must look as glazed over as your mind felt. He already looked wrecked and you felt proud of that. His hair was sticking up from where presumably he had ran his hands through it, his face was flushed and his lip bitten red. If you weren't so sunken into submissiveness you'd have to rush up and kiss him.
He was staring at you as his chest rose and fell and you started to worry and shake.
"Easy, pet, just didn't want to come down your fucking throat, alright. Not that there's anything wrong with your mouth, but I don't want to come inside it. Can you still move?" He grinned. The hand on your head skirted around to your face and you leaned into it and nodded.
He tapped under your chin. "Up, clothes off."
Your body felt discontented as you stood up and started stripping out of your clothes, letting them fall onto the floor with no thought or care. Normally you would shy away, but you know he wants to watch you. And watching you he is. Dark gaze raking over you, hungry, and impatient as always. Before you've finished pulling your underwear off he was dragging you by the wrist and getting you to lay under him on the sofa. His long fingers hooked under the waistband and threw them across the room.
And then those fingers were right where you need them.
"Fuck, you're so fucking wet." He quickly went from putting one to two fingers inside of you, crooking them forward and watching you arch up off the cushions. "So riled up for me. You really need me to fuck you, don't you?"
"Please... Please, Dmitri-" He pressed his fingers in harder and you cried out. "Need you to fuck me, please..." You could hear his breathing hitch and waver. He loved it when you begged.
"Yeah, fuck, okay," He scrambled with the fastenings on his robe and left it hanging open, billowing behind him as he grabbed your legs and pulled the two of you together. His patience is almost gone as he thrust into you.
Your hands scrambled above your head, trying to get purchase on something, anything, as he fucked you, sharp and fast. He looked akin to something wild. You weren’t aware of how much you were moaning and moving against him until he started talking.
"You're not holding back for me. That's what I want, let me see and hear fucking everything."
"Please, 'mitri, ah, please keep talking-"
"Talking, yeah? You still like my voice that much. What do you want me to say? Need me to say you're being good? I think you are. Your body's gone all lax now, just laying back there and letting me fuck you all I want, and you'd let me keep going for as long as I want, wouldn't you?"
"Yes... Anything you want..."
"Anything I want, shit, you should be careful saying things like that." He bent down and murmured into your ear and instantly you were so much fucking closer. Those low tones vibrating through your bones.
"Right now, I want to fucking come inside of you, and you're gonna come as well. You're going to reach down and touch yourself for me. Like a good pet."
And that's what you wanted. You wanted to be a good pet. You needed to be good for him. For him to tell you you'd been good for him. Your hand found its way between your legs and you arched back and felt yourself getting closer to that edge.
"Dmitri please can I, fuck, can I come please?"
"Hmm," The bastard had the gall to pause and hum. If you were more lucid you could have slapped him. "I think you can ask a little better than that."
"Please Dmitri, please, I've been good right? I just want to be good for you. Please let me come." You sobbed.
"Fuck, alright pet, don't cry. You can come, you were good and asked permission." You could tell he was on the edge as well, voice straining and burying his head in your neck. "Been fucking good, go ahead and come for me."
As your orgasm hit you, your hands twisted in the black silk against Dmitri's back. You're not sure where your brain floated off to, but when you start to come back down the two of you were squeezed side by side on the sofa. Dmitri's back is pressed against the back of the sofa and you were tucked tight into him, his hands tight and secure on you, to make sure you don't fall off onto the floor.
"Don't fucking cry pet, it's all right," Words of comfort sounded a little foreign in his mouth and that's what you focus on until you fully realise he was addressing you, and if he was addressing you that means you were crying.
You sneaked an arm up between your chests and touch your face. Your hands were shaking against your wet cheeks.
"I'm okay."
"You mind telling that to your eyes?" He said and you huffed out a laugh.
"Just got a little overwhelmed. I'm fine, though. I'm good. It was, it felt good."
"Course it did," But you could see the insecurity and the relief behind those dark eyes and cocky smirk. The more time you spent with him the more you chipped away to find the man underneath the hostile exterior. Chipping away at layers put in place by an uncaring mother, an absent father, and various emotionless nannies and tutors.
"You take really good care of me, you know?" You whispered too him.
This time he failed to hide his emotion behind a smirk or frown.
"Perhaps sometime I can return the favour and take care of you?"
His eyebrows furrowed and turned up in the middle, a familiar sight on his face.
"I don't think..." He trailed off, clearly not sure what argument to use.
"Just think about it. I'd be willing too, and more than I think you'd enjoy, I know the stress you get yourself under and I know this helps me. Can't hurt to see if it helps you."
"Alright," He sighed, and you started to smile. "Maybe! Let me finish a fucking sentence."
"I'll hold you to that maybe."
"Fucking Christ, what did I get myself into with you?"