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She's never been one for sitting; after nine months of it, she learned to run as fast as she could. Rain, Snow, Through all weathers, she wore her boots down to nubs and her socks to tatters.
It is to say; Fyodor doesn't like sitting still. A weak anemic demeanor within her knows the consequences of sitting too long the way a cat knows an earthquake on the horizon.
Yet she lays flat on her side atop a double bed, both sides inhabited by dual teammates.
"So, friend, your schedule should be full now!" Nikolai belts from a sitting position, crisscrossing legs underneath mottled fabric.
"Full of?" Fyodor tears her eyes open and up to Nikolai's face through her hair.
She peers back down with an ever-present smile. "Being here! Accompanied by little ol' me!"
Fyodor hums and stares back. "Such is my condition of weariness; you're afflicted the very same." She huffs and pulls herself into sitting, using the headboard as an axiom.
Nikolai shuffles and pulls at her vest, nimble pale fingers wriggling their way through the uninhabited holes in the unbuttoned garment, and with her other hand, reaches to Fyodor's hair.
She is intercepted, and their hands lie on one another.
"Well, we are on pace, aren't we?"
"Beyond my fever, we seem to be."
Nikolai covers her mouth in a giggle and finally connects her hand to Fyodor's pin-straight hair, to which she sighs and leans in.
"Beyond your fever? You're farther gone than you think."
"So far, you could kill me with a weakened hand?" Two purple locks with one green
"Don't spoil my fun!" Fyodor softly closes her eyes. Nikolai wins a point and beams in return.
"So, if I had a game, would I ever be able to convince you to say yes?"
"No."
"You're bored; I'm bored!"
"Yes."
Nikolai never stopped grinning as she leaned forward to put a hand behind her teammates backs and leaned forward into her personal space, which Fyodor values highly.
Fyodor leans further on her arms, and in a moment's thought, Nikolai pulls her arm down, and she crashes into the headboard.
Fyodor scowled and pulled the hair that'd fallen from her eyes behind her ear, yet made no rebuke.
Nikolai was something akin to a friend on the outside; it displays all symptoms of kinship, possibly domestication. Willing Cohabitation. Fyodor couldn't go a single step without flipping over a rock and discovering another blind spot she left due to this acclimated safety. It made her scowl internally.
With Nikolai's eyes smiling back at her, she flicked her forehead and pulled her into a kiss, which was gratefully rewarded with a hand seeking under her blouse. It was cold compared to her fevered skin, and the satin fabric was lightly traced at her hip bones.
Fyodor leaned into the kiss and draped both arms over Nikolai's shoulders, interlacing them in the back.
She was still sick; her immune system was as weak as ever, and it'd gotten to her. Her hands felt clammy, and her body sought further and further warmth within her button-up and pajamas. Leaning fully against her partner gave her a sense of fatigue setting in.
Nikolai knew she hadn't been sleeping all too well, three days into her fever, and it just now started to dwindle. It would be concerning; in fact, it is. She is concerned for the health of her partner; who could blame her?
When a hot forehead and wet lips leaned against her collarbones, she winced, but rearranged her hands to fyodor's back and pulled towards her, jerking her towards her lap in a soft nudging motion that she hoped was delicate enough not to ruin the near silence of the late night.
She pulls herself the rest of the way onto Nikolai's lap, though not before the hands grasping at her skin can pull up her shirt halfway. "Is this really your game? You can't put together anything better than this." She smirks up at Fyodor in reply.
"Arms up, my good sir!" As she pulls off the white shirt and stalls her hand at the cups of the black bra,
Nikolai appreciates the way Fydor's hair is messed up now; the usually perfect chin-length hair sticks up in odd places now. Though Fyodor seems too worked up to fix it now, besides pushing some behind her ear.
"So?"
"Yes! You're right as always; good plan, right?" She smiles and places her chin on Fyodor's breasts, wrapping her arms around the back and unclasping her bra.
Fyodor pulls her pants down and off with a blank, unimpressed look. Nikolai stares at her slim figure now just in her underwear, a pair of short feminine red briefs, and smiles.
Nikolai frees her hands and watches as the bra falls away fully, revealing cute C-cup breasts and perky nipples. Fyodor shivers and pulls away as Nikolai giggles and pulls at her braid, setting her hair free as well as unbuttoning her vest.
"Let me." Fyodor is much faster with the buttons, though with her blush and lusting gaze, her hands shook.
It was obvious they had initiated foreplay before, yet it was Nikolai's first time ever getting this close to the heavily Catholic woman beside her. Dressed so modestly, the furthest she'd seen had been hastily covered up with a heavy blush and cracking voice.
The air felt warm, yet she knew that with her shirt off, they'd both gotten goosebumps. The feeling crawled across her stomach in tandem with admiration for Fyodor's body and rising tension between the two. Nikolai could almost feel static electricity pulling her sagittal hair up like a balloon. As she pulled her hand downward through Fyodor's thighs, she could almost feel both of their heartbeats.
Fyodor felt like she was in the midst of a storm; every movement was slow and careful, stroking every inch of skin she had and charming the rest into shivering. With one hand on her back, Nikolai's breath on her breasts, and a second hand nearing Labia, she could feel a growing slickness in her underwear. Nikolai giggled, likely having felt it through the briefs, the jackass.
Fyodor pulled her hips back, then forth in a rocking motion on Nikolai's lap. A welcomed jolt of pleasure pulled the way up both spines.
Nikolai's plastered smile softened slightly when she saw the blush spread down fully to Fyodor's neck and shoulders.
Fyodor initiated the kiss this time, lunging forward as well as pushing one hand down Nikolai's pants and down to her crotch.
Nikolai's eyes widened for a moment before she pushed back, fast and hard, knocking fyodor into the pillows.
The air was now hot around them; it felt like the room was full of noxious gas, as if this were their last moments. Fleeting touches and hard-earned gyrations
Fyodor had the breath knocked out of her, though with her hand still inside Nikolai's underwear, she began rubbing at and pushing down on her clitoral area like a cat's tongue licking a wound. Nikolai moaned and huffed before pushing her hand up through Fyodor's underwear as well, pushing one finger through the gathering slick, then pulling her fingers out.
Her mouth opened, and the fingers pushed in. Fydor's unstoppable blush only deepened and her eyes widened before she gave Nikolai's thigh a slap and turned away, one hand down Nikolai's underwear and the other covering her own mouth. Funny, as if she was disgusted just by looking at someone tasting their meal before eating.
"What, too much?"
Fyodor huffed and turned back to face her with a light expression that Nikolai knew was pouting.
"You're disgusting."
"Oh, I know, but what are you?"
"Foolish for believing there was more beneath the clown's mask."
She tilted her head down to connect her foreheads with her opponent.
"It's unfortunate that I like you," she says.
"Hm, it's a lovely twist of fate for me! And for you, I'm sure of it." Nikolai's white hair twists down her neck and through her pale clavicles. It is gorgeous, like a sea reflecting through a cloudy sky. The static running through her veins pushed the same disgustingness from her and down into Nikolai as she pushed her full weight onto her most sensitive areas and pulled her second hand down into the brush as well, teasing her fingers down into her willing opening—warm and throbbing skin upon skin.
Fyodor's hands were cold, and Nikolai knew she was attempting to muffle her noises by tilting her head down in mock submission. She would have to submit soon enough—why not now?
Nikolai pulls one hand free and pushes down at Fyodor's shoulder, pulling her head down in tow and leaving an afterimage of pale skin contrasted by flowing dark hair before falling down to the bed sheets.
Nikolai needed to speed up; all of these small touches had gotten her worked up already, and even though the hand on her clitoral area was stagnant, the pleasure stood tall and throbbing like an obelisk in her mind, putting fire in her belly. She made the split decision to pull down Fyodor's underwear and hold her neck down with her tongue and teeth.
Her eyes shut tight at the feeling of a tongue connecting with her neck and teeth soon after, the warm liquids and tongue lapping at her like an ocean. The warm hand played with her pubic hair for a moment or two, twiddling and fanning her fingers down to her clitoris with the other hand pushing their way up into her cavity.
They pushed at her walls like exposed nerves, pushing shivers down her spine. Her fever grew hotter, as did her breath, and she was stuck melting down onto the sheets below her as her girlfriend pushed and pulled at her body, twiddling and fidgeting with her very soul.
Nikolai could see the effects she was having; she laughed breathlessly as she knocked the air from the lungs of her dearest depraved. Fydor's hand had begun twitching, though it was clear Nikolai did not expect her to keep running a moderate fever.
She loved Fyodor, and as became ever so clear in moments like this, the side no one ever saw of her was ripped into reality and pulled before her eyes. On the side, no one had been clever enough or dedicated enough to pull from her cold, anemic fingers.
She loved the sounds of Fyodor's moans, high and whispery—mostly small, choked-back noises. What she loved most was pushing her past that phase into tears. How lovely she looked, thrashing with watery eyes and drooling in her mouth—her eyes darkened at the thought.
She was already making small noises, mostly panting and huffing, but if she twiddled her fingers there, stroked a little harder there, and bit down, she would hear the most lovely of overwhelmed sounds. Like a demolitionist, she was tearing fyodor down. She could only imagine the teary, pouty faces she was making.
Her neck would be splotched like a watercolor painting in the morning. Nikolai hysterically fluttered her eyes again, as if a butterfly were tasting nectar; she had bitten hard enough to hit blood, just a little bit.
"Ah," Fyodor squealed out, heaving out her breath as her senses were assaulted—she was getting close and knew it. She leaned further onto the hand, twiddling with her clitoral area and sending strikes down her body to her quivering, locked legs and up to her harshly clenched eyes and arched back.
She was desperately close; Nikolai could tell. Her hole had grown wetter and wetter to near dripping, and she could feel the sweat on her arm from Fyodor's quivering stomach.
"I," she starts, though her voice picks up into another gasp. Nikolai shushes her and speeds up her fingering.
Fyodor reaches the precipus, and the damn breaks—her vision blurs and her back arches as she clenches down both her teeth and her passage. She pulls at the sheet behind her. Her body contracts like a dead man until she collapses and melts down into a puddle of perfectly homogeneous pleasure.
Nikolai lets her breathe through her pleasure and smiles as she detaches from Fyodor's bruised neck.
"Was it good?" She giggles.
Who is she kidding? She left Fyodor, the demon and angel, in a mess of fluids, sticky and reddened with a heat beyond fever.
Fyodor heaves her breaths as her vision pulls back in. She sits up, her hair messed up, her vision blurred and weak. "You didn't come; let me help you." She wheezes.
Nikolai changes positions, now sitting on Fyodor's lap. "Well, if you're offering," she tinges her voce in a sing-song manner
"Would you eat me out?" She offers, drying her hands on the sheets before running them through her own platinum hair.
Fyodor nods, assembling herself and assessing her hickeys. "You really like my chest, Kolya."
Nikolai nods her head. "Mhm! They're sweet, but let's get down to business. Lay down."
Fyodor doesn't usually give in to orders, but she sees no point—a favor is owed. It's as simple as that. She pushes herself a little further down the bed as Nikolai pulls her hips up, and she is left with the sight of her pulling off her underwear, leaving them discarded to the side of Fyodor's face.
Nikolai looks down, and Fyodor nods in return. She is ready.
It's not a sour taste; it doesn't taste like much of anything. She wraps her arms around Nikolai's waist and caresses her lower back. She focuses on pushing down on the rim of her twitching hole with her tongue, teasing simply to watch Nikolai writhe.
Its a fulfilling feeling, suddenly her abdomen is very full of warmth with the attention, Fyodor's teeth are at her clitoral hood while shes pushing inwards, its a sparkling heavy feeling thats settling through her body, she steadies herself with a hand in front of her and one down to her stomach to hold fyodor's hand. She pants and squeals, small, short moans cut into by a heaving breath. She won't last long; watching Fyodor get off has already tested her strength; all her blood is pushed down towards her pussycat, and she proves sensitive.
Fyodor pulls back to take a breath in, a small breath before sealing her mouth back into her girlfriend's pelvis, aiming for her clitoris this time with a relaxed tounge. Lapping like the dog Nikolai released in her spirit
She arched upwards as Fydor's tongue pulled up and down her clitoris, gasping as she was enveloped. The coil in her stomach was pushing in an out in time with her stilted moans.
She was close to her peak, as Fyodor could infer from the way the arm she used to steady herself shook and her hips restrained themselves from bucking up. She pulled the hand not holding Nikolai's down to her entrance and pushed in with a single finger—simply to feel the way she clenched in time with the throbbing in her clit. She felt smug to be eating out the lady who gave her so much trouble on the regular.
Nikolai's eyelashes fluttered as she peered up at the ceiling, reaching her edge and clenching down on her partner's head. Pleasure was her priority, above life and above freedom, for this moment.
Fyodor could feel it when Nikolai came; she clenched down, letting out a high and needy whine as she straightened in a flash of pleasure and quivered- open-mouthed at the sky.
Her eyes flashed open, like a bloom deep in her stomach. Relief and euphoria rushed to her head so fast that she became lightheaded as she pushed her pelvis away from Fydor's mouth.
Fyodor refused to give in, continuing to lick up and down, sending Nikolai's vision into pulsating images and sending shoots of overstimulation down to her toes. She cried out and pushed upwards again, this time successfully disconnecting.
Fyodor pulled herself up once again and leaned forward to pull at Nikolai's bottom lip. She could feel her hot breath on her cheeks as she pulled her into a kiss, dominating her mouth. Nikolai let herself get pulled down onto the bed, head slotted into Fyodor's bitten-up shoulders.
She collected her breath, still panting from the intensity and reeling from the momentary overstimulation.
"So," Fyodor draws her attention. "Did you win, darling?"
Nikolai pulls back to look her in the eyes and smiles softly.
"Victory is mine." She replies with a slurred voice.
"Mm, and if you catch what I have?"
"It'll be worth it, fedya"
"If you say so, Nikolai."
Fyodor smiles as Nikolai is lulled to sleep in her lap, simply pulling the sheets up and succumbing to the same fate.