pathologicroundrobin | Pathologic Kink Meme!

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Pathologic Kink Meme!

Hello, welcome to the Pathologic Kink Meme! WARNING: This one is NSFW!

Please make anonymous prompts for things you would like to see, or anonymously fulfill prompts by creating stories, poetry, drawn art, music, or anything! I just want to say that this prompt meme is open to people of all skill levels, so have fun!

Some basic rules that were recommended to help out before we get started:

- This is the Pathologic Kink Meme, and it's NSFW! Please post any NSFW prompts or fills here. A good rule of thumb is whether or not you'd be comfortable with your boss at work looking over your shoulder and reading what you have on screen.

- If anything is a little too explicit in detail (e.g. in terms of medical procedures or gore), it probably needs to be here as well. Basic mentioning of medical procedures is allowed, but this is just in case for folks who have limits in regard to certain explicit things. Speaking of explicit things...

- Please use tags and content warnings, especially for things that people might be triggered over. For prompt fillers, please put those tags in the beginning of the post so that way people can skip over them if need be. Tags can also attract people to your art if it has content that they're interested in, so it can be a helpful tool for content creators as well.

- No writers of incest (kains which does include aglaya and her relatives, stamatins, olgimskys, etc), underage/adult ships (which DOES include Clara,) or rape. Please don't make anything gross happen to underage characters!

- Multiple fills to a single prompt is not only accepted, but wonderful! It's a win-win for everybody!

- In the case of a filler of a prompt going inactive for a long time in the middle of a story, it's okay for a different person to continue where they left off. Please make it obvious that you're not the original author, and then feel free to write.

And that's as much as I have in regards to rules! Hopefully these answered answer any questions you might have! Feel free to recommend any rules of your own, or ask me for clarification on the current ones.

AND THAT'S IT! Have fun! :D

LINKS:

Pathologic Prompt Meme: https://pathologicroundrobin.dreamwidth.org/825.html
Pathologic Round-Robin: https://pathologicroundrobin.dreamwidth.org/654.html
Pathologic Kink Meme (nsfw): https://pathologicroundrobin.dreamwidth.org/1201.html
Contact me here if you have any questions!: https://pathologicroundrobin.dreamwidth.org/1347.html

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Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

p2 var is hot. good. I think artemy deserves to get dicked down by him. you know, the relieve some tension.
bonus point for a sub-y artemy.
(I know that the penis isn't an organ but it was funny this way)

It starts off because Andrey says, “You’d be cuter if you shut your mouth.” They’re about three drinks into the night, and Andrey’s found out Daniil is chatty when he drinks. Very, very chatty. “You tell everyone what a thinker you are, but here you sit, running your mouth.”

Daniil takes offense to it, but he’s not about to give Andrey the satisfaction of proving him wrong. “If it’s my silence you want,” he hisses, “Earn it. If you want me to shut up so badly, make me.” He was used to people only getting so far with him, losing their temper, losing their cool before they got around to actually making him be quiet. And he’s used to the request, used to ignoring it.

He is not used to men coming up and sticking their fingers in his mouth, pads of their fingers rough against his tongue. “Don’t test me, Bachelor,” Andrey growls, “Or I will.” His fingers taste of salt and twyrine. He’s not much impressed by the show of bravado, but he won’t pretend not to be interested in the way those fingers fill his mouth. Andrey keeps a wary eye on Daniil, and Daniil deliberately curls his tongue around those fingers, teasing them. And just when Andrey’s relaxed them, about to call Daniil a good boy, he bites down. “Jesus, fuck.”

Andrey retaliates with those same saliva-coated fingers on his coat, jerking him up and off the bar stool. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude to bite, Danko?”

“Humilitas occidit superbiam, Stamatin,” he smirks back. “Don’t play with your food.”

“Oh, I won’t be eating you,” he snipes, but he is dragging Daniil up the stairs. He’s far more coordinated than anyone with that much twyrine in their system ought to be. Daniil’s not far gone enough, either, not enough to excuse his actions under the guise of being a drunken moron. He doesn’t get plastered these days, only buzzed, and the chill of the night air is enough to knock some sense into him. What he does, he does only out of pleasure.

“Are you walking me home, Andrey?” he teases. “That’s so thoughtful of you. But I should point out, the Stillwater’s in the other direction.”

“Keep talking, old boy. You won’t be able to soon.” His grip on Daniil’s wrist is strong, but loose enough Daniil could easily break out if he wanted to. The offer’s there, in the way Andrey’s fingers twitch against his skin.

But Daniil’s only pretending to be pulled along for the show of it. He lets his muscles go lax against Andrey’s direction. “That’s awfully cocky talk. Are you sure you’ll be able to back it up with action?” He doesn’t quite trip over the uneven stones in the road, but he uses the forward momentum to lean up against Andrey’s ear. “You wouldn’t be the first to fail to live up to expectation. Still want to move on?” Andrey responds by twisting his arm around his back and shoving him up against the wall. They’re not far now from his apartment, and Andrey’s teeth sting against his neck.

His lips part in the pain, left hand pressed into Andrey’s chest. He has, at long last, gone quiet. “Now there’s a good boy,” Andrey mumbles, but his praises sound like sarcasm. “Keep your mouth shut until we get to my place, and then keep it shut some more.”

Andrey’s “place” is actually not much farther, near enough that the Broken heart can be viewed outside its farthest window. The walk has only seemed unbearable in the anticipation. Daniil’s never minded a partner getting a little rough with him. If anything, he’s come to look forward to it.

And here he is now, standing with his hands in his pockets, ignoring the way his cock stirs as Andrey fishes around for something. “You haven’t changed a bit since university, you know that? One would think you’d have grown up by now, but you’re still living in a shadow, still living in the dark. The only difference is how you’ve cut your hair. You’re sill the same man you’ve always been. I guess that should be comforting.”

“You’re still a dick,” Andrey retorts.

“How witty. Is that the best you can come up with?” Andrey turns, items in hand, expression turned into a glower. He advances on Daniil, and jerks him back by the collar of his coat. Daniil gets the message, dropping his coat, but he’s not about to pass the opportunity by without comment. “What, have all words escaped you? What will the other Utopians think?” Andrey’s right hand presses to the front of his trousers and gropes him through the cloth. Daniil bucks against his hand, huffing.

He leans close to Daniil hand to mutter out, “Are we fucking, or not?” Daniil pushes against his palm, letting Andrey feel him up another moment before he presses his nose to Andrey’s ear, sets his fingers against Andrey’s stomach, shirt pulled up from his trousers. He doesn’t miss the way Andrey’s hips cant toward him, smirking.

“At the moment, I rather think we’re arguing.” Andrey lifts his hand and pushes him, sending him back to the bed. Daniil lets his legs fall open, admiring Andrey from where he lays on the bed. Andrey drops his own jacket to the floor and looks over Daniil, brows furrowed. “I thought you said you weren’t going to eat me, but you’re a predator circling prey.” For a moment, Daniil thinks Andrey’s going to kiss him, but he’s only getting close enough to flip Daniil onto his stomach.

Andrey’s nails scrape and dig against Daniil’s skin as he tugs Daniil’s pants down to his thighs. He takes a moment, running his fingers down Daniil’s backside, before pulling away again. Daniil hears him uncapping a bottle and wiggles his hips, rubbing himself against the bedspread. Andrey grabs his hip with his left hand to hold him in place. “Do you think you can keep your mouth shut while I do this?”

It’s spoken with fingers trailing between his cheeks, trying to spread his thighs as much as his trousers will let him. This is Andrey’s way of saying he wants Daniil to continue, to test him. He waits until Andrey has pushed the tip of his finger into his hole to say, “Depends on how good you are.” Andrey scoffs, his finger pushing in rougher. Daniil relaxes his body, letting the digit past to start thrusting. His fingers curl in the sheets beneath him, running his tongue over his lips. “You’re getting soft, Andrey. Back in college you’d be in three fingers by now. Something happen to you?”

The mock concern earns him a second finger pushed in without warning, and Daniil grunts. He can imagine a self-satisfied smirk on Andrey’s face right now, and rocks his hips back against his hand. “I wasn’t sure if a prettyboy like you could take it,” Andrey says. “You’ve gotten posh over the years. Wouldn’t want to break you – you break it, you buy it, and I’m not paying for you.”

“You’ve been with too many women,” Daniil replies. Andrey’s fingers spread. His knuckles crack. “You think I’ll break just from this? Don’t make me laugh. I’ve had bigger.” Andrey’s fingers pull back, almost out of his ass, but it’s only to breach him with three on the next thrust in. “What, nothing to say to that, Stamatin?” Andrey huffs softly, turning his fingers and curling. Daniil tilts his hips, and rocks back on him. “Looking for my prostate? What a punishment! I’m so disheartened.” Andrey finds it, and Daniil gasps, mouth open, searching for some other words to tease him with.

“That’s a good boy,” Andrey chides, patting his hip. “No need for chitchat, just your noisy breathing.”

“As- as if that would stop me.” Daniil leans forward on his hands, Andrey’s fingers pulled almost out, and Andrey chases him, fingers spreading as they slide back in. “What are you afraid of, hm? That it won’t be your name I call out, or that I won’t hit my climax at all?”Andrey’s quiet for a moment, pulling his fingers free from Daniil’s body. “Don’t tell me that’s it? You’re going to give up so easily? And here I thought you were the tenacious sort –“

His words are cut off when Daniil feels his head being jerked up by his hair, Andrey’s fingers tight around the locks. His body hovers over Daniil’s back, his erection pressed to Daniil’s ass. A sort of sphere is pressed against his lips. He knows what this is, what it’s used for, his prick throbbing in excitement as it pushes past his lips to his teeth. “All your talk will ruin the mood, Danko.” He waits, fingers hesitant, until Daniil opens his mouth to let his teeth sink into the ball. Andrey’s oddly tender for a second, knuckle grazing Daniil’s cheek before he pulls back, fastening the gag around the back of his head.

Daniil’s forehead hits the bed as he waits, tongue stuck to the bottom of his mouth. He can’t see between his legs for the way his pants still hang around his thighs, only able to make out the shape of his cock against his stomach. Andrey grinds his clothed erection against Daniil’s thigh as he fiddles with the bottle. Daniil hears him messing around for a moment, hears the movement of his hand over his cock, and then feels Andrey rutting himself between his cheeks. “Might just have you like this,” he says. “It would serve you right. You’re always such a tease.” Daniil rocks back against him, and Andrey hums. “But on the other hand, having you quiet like this…”

Andrey angles himself, and Daniil’s body squeezes as he starts to push inside. He makes a noise against the gag, and Andrey stops. “What was that? Did you say something?” Daniil’s spit collects along the side of the ball, his fingers curled against the sheets. He lets out a muffled sound, and Andrey snorts. “Yeah.” He thrusts roughly, pushing himself in deeper, and Daniil feels the pressure like being split in two. “That’s what I thought.” Andrey works himself in through thrusts, pulling his hips back only to shove them forward again until his testicles hit Daniil’s backside. Daniil grunts against the ball in his mouth, and Andrey ignores him.

Past lovers would start out slow, work their way up to a decent speed. Not Andrey. Andrey squeezes Daniil’s hips once and starts, each jerk of his hips a long movement. Daniil’s forehead presses against the mattress, angling his hips up. Andrey sets a hand on his back to push him down farther and grunts, tips pushing hard against the fabric of Daniil’s vest. No grip is tight enough to bruise just yet, but he’s clearly aiming for it with the speed he uses. Andrey curls over Daniil’s back, and slides so deep he sends shivers up Daniil’s spine.

“I’d say I was right, but I can’t really see you from this angle.” Daniil grunts against the gag, and Andrey slides out, leaving him twitching. He pats Daniil’s side to get him to shift, lay down on his back. He pulls at Daniil’s shoes and pants until he’s bare against the bedspread. Andrey pushes his thighs up, setting Daniil’s knees on his shoulders as he realigns and thrusts back inside.
Sweat drips down the back of Daniil’s neck as Andrey’s hips snap, Daniil’s knees locking tightly into place. His legs ache, pushed up this far, his cock leaking against his stomach. Andrey bucks hard and his back arches, trying to gasp against the restraint and feeling saliva pool at the side of his mouth. “You do look better with your mouth filled,” Andrey teases. “You always have.” Daniil curls his fingers in the quilt, and Andrey hovers closer. “Look at you. Eyes shot, mouth open, hair tousled. Are those tears in your eyes?” They might be. Daniil is so close, so cramped up, aching jaw, aching legs. Andrey’s cock brushes something and Daniil jolts, body going tight around him.

His little whine is lost in the spit sliding down his throat, swallowing to keep from coughing. Daniil turns his head to the side and feels a trail of saliva running down his chin. His hips try to rock against Andrey’s, and the man above him leans in. Daniil feels the hand wrap around his cock and start to tug, body going tense. Andrey moves his hips a little farther up, and Daniil tries to shout around the ball in his mouth. His legs shake as Andrey strokes him out, dirtying his vest. Andrey swears, rolling his hips in quick and shallow movements, swearing under his breath as he comes apart.

Andrey’s still for only a moment before he pulls out, not affording Daniil the dignity of handing him his trousers and undergarments back. His hand moves around to the back of Daniil’s head, undoing the clasp that holds the gag in place. Daniil can only imagine the ball feels gross in hand, but Andrey doesn’t seem the least bit perturbed by it. He pats Daniil’s cheek and says, “See what being a good, quiet boy gets you?”

Daniil means to talk, means to bite back that his chatter is what got them here in the first place, but the soreness of his jaw and the exhaustion in his bones make it seem less worthy. His eyes flutter shut, letting his heartrate come down in the relative silence of the room around them. He can still hear Andrey moving about, feels his legs being lifted and a cloth wiping up the mess left behind. Andrey ruffles his hair when he clearly thinks Daniil is asleep, and mutters, “I was right. Cute.”

Yulia was good with all things mathematical. She enjoyed shapes, the angles made by several lines and the calculations that went into it. Architecture was her main interest, but she’d gotten a job in town design and she liked it well enough.

The art of deciding what lines flowed best, how to keep traffic at a minimum while still having convenient paths, the problem solving was entrancing.

When she wasn’t reading or working on equations, she would get lost in puzzles on her coffee table, each more difficult than the last. Yulia was always solving problems, whether it was lines on a map or strange shapes forming a square.

Or, like now, tying knots.

It was another puzzle, the twisting of rope around a warm body in a way that both heightened their senses and released them from the tension of the mind. It was an art she learned long ago at university, practicing while she turned over numbers in her mind. It came naturally to her, and she moved to hands on practice fairly quickly.

Her partners, grateful, enjoyed losing themselves slowly to her gentle touch and the tightening of their bonds. Yulia enjoyed being in control, bringing her partners to completion at her own pace, watching them cry out their utter devotion when she acquiesced to their pleas.

Aglaya Lilich, Inquisitor, had been one such partner. Despite her cold and demanding exterior, she was quite soft on the inside. It was hard, she had said, to be in control all the time. She wanted to relax at home, to let someone else take the reins, and so Yulia had.

It had been years, now, since Aglaya had submitted herself to her, yet here she was again, sitting naked on Yulia’s bed before her, hair untied and hung loosely around her face and across her shoulders. She seemed younger somehow with her hair down. They’d only just begun, Yulia painting the first layer on her canvas, setting up her masterpiece.

Truth be told, she’d missed the other woman. Their lives had led in differing paths, and they’d parted ways amicably, but never wrote each other like they’d promised. It was unfortunate, the circumstances that had brought them together, but Yulia wasn’t complaining. It had been a while since she’d worked her ropes around a person, and Aglaya desperately needed the distraction.

She sat still as Yulia wrapped the rope around her neck, tying a knot just below her clavicle. Yulia worked efficiently, nimble fingers tying more overhand knots down the length of the rope and Aglaya’s body.

Yulia instructed the other woman to stand, and pulled the rope between her legs, the last knot settling snugly against Aglaya’s clit. She walked around the woman as she worked from back to front, looping rope through strands on the front creating diamonds between the string of knots.

The knot placed between her breasts became the center of a cage, breasts separated and encircled by the rope. Aglaya’s breath hitched as Yulia’s gloved hands ghosted across her chest while pulling the rope just tight enough to add delicious pressure. Red blossomed across her cheeks and down her neck in splotches as easily as Yulia remembered.

“You’re as skillful as ever,” Aglaya spoke, breaking the companionable silence. “Seems you’ve learned a bit since we’ve been apart.”

Yulia hummed in acknowledgement, focusing on the crisscross of her handiwork. The mention of their distance didn’t phase her. She wasn’t doing this out of love, after all.

Aglaya had come to her the day after she’d arrived in town due to the plague, begging for some release. Well, begging was pushing it, but she hadn’t beat around the bush. There was no reason to refuse her, Yulia delighted in the art of bondage and it had been a while since she’d been intimate. Finding the other woman at her doorstep had been a relief, almost.

“I’ve got more to show you,” Yulia murmured, pulling the last of the rope through a knot on the back.

The other woman wriggled slightly in the bindings, observing the tight fit.

“You didn’t think I’d leave your arms free, did you?”

“Of course not,” Aglaya answered. “I wouldn’t want you to.”

Yulia produced another length of rope and began to form a harness around Aglaya’s thin shoulders. With the base set between her shoulder blades, Yulia began to create a latticework down the woman’s arms, four rings around her upper arms and another four along her forearms. It was a shame Aglaya couldn’t see the beautiful pattern against her back, twining her arms together.

Her work complete, Yulia touched Aglaya’s shoulder gently and pushed her back down onto the bed. She went willingly and their eyes met, the grey of her irises almost eclipsed by her pupils blown wide. Aglaya was a quiet woman, her words never approaching a shout no matter the situation. There was an intensity in her voice that required no amplification, and she spoke no more than was necessary.

However, Yulia remembered the quiet whimpers she let out when they’d had sex and wondered if they’d sound even sweeter here in the present. She had never moaned loudly, and Yulia had felt it was a great loss that she’d never gotten the woman to scream. She’d be forever chasing that high, trying to find the piece of the puzzle that would truly release her.

Perhaps it had been a while for Aglaya, as well, as her legs pressed together, rubbing at the knot there. Yulia hadn’t bound her legs, didn’t see a reason to. If she thought she’d get anywhere with the small mercy Yulia had given her, she was wrong.

It would have been strange not to kiss the woman, considering their history, and so Yulia bent down, hands placed on either side of the other woman’s shoulders, and pressed their lips together. Aglaya’s lips were rough and cracked, she’d clearly been stressed long before she’d arrived in the town.

Yulia licked along the harsh edges and Aglaya’s lips parted, granting permission. It was different, yet familiar, the way they licked into each other’s mouths, the sigh Aglaya let out as Yulia traced her tongue across the sensitive roof of her mouth.

“You’re beautiful like this, you know,” Yulia said as she pulled away.

“So are you,” Aglaya replied, eyes darting down and up again as she
surveyed Yulia’s body, fully clothed.

What Aglaya didn’t know was that there were ropes running across Yulia’s lower body, a harness that would be put to use later if things continued to go well. For now, though, she wore her usual attire, breasts bound beneath her crisp button-down shirt and vest. Dark pinstripe pants hid the garters that held up her crew length socks, feet tucked into loafers.

Yulia didn’t hate the idea of being naked, but she found that remaining clothed while her partner was bound and naked seemed to heighten the experience.

“I’m certainly not as lovely as you are,” Yulia said, gloved fingers trailing lightly down the trail ropework on Aglaya’s torso.

The leather of the gloves was cold, she knew, but that was by intention. Goosebumps rose where she touched, and the body beneath her shivered.

“You’re going to tease me, aren’t you?” Aglaya asked, already knowing the answer.

Yulia’s fingers traced along one of Aglaya’s breasts, just shy of a dusky brown nipple.

“I thought you wanted to give up control,” Yulia said. “Or did you think I did all this,” she tugged at the rope, “just to fuck you senseless the minute I was done?”

“No,” Aglaya breathed, “Not at all.”

Yulia continued to trace patterns against Aglaya’s skin, taking her time as Aglaya settled into her bonds. Her legs still hung over the side of the bed, so Yulia carefully lifted them and rearranged her on the bed. The tension had bled from her body and the limpness made her heavy, but it was nothing Yulia couldn’t handle.

She looked peaceful, dark hair spilling across the pillow her head lay on, and Yulia couldn’t help but admire her. It was almost a shame to draw it out, Yulia’s patient nature almost forgotten. But she’d promised to help Aglaya, as an old friend, to soothe her worried mind. She was going to work until Aglaya’s mind was empty, until she was crying out in pure bliss, every worry forgotten.

So Yulia continued to stroke tan skin tantalizingly close to where it was pleasurable from where she sat upon Aglaya’s hips. Yulia pressed lightly over the soft skin below her navel and she arched into the touch, rubbing herself up against Yulia’s behind.

There were some that reprimanded their bedmates for such behavior, but Yulia never cared to. Why should she punish what was clearly a sign she was doing well? Besides, she knew Aglaya wouldn’t come until she had something inside her, whether fingers or the polished leather of a toy. Yulia intended on giving her both today.

Yulia shifted backwards, allowing herself access to Aglaya’s sex. She rubbed small circles down Aglaya’s inner thighs, and carefully stroked along the crease between vulva and thigh. Aglaya’s hips rose against Yulia’s fingers, trying to get as much pressure as she could from the knot pressed against her clit.

She looked beautiful; the red flush from her cheeks had spread down to her chest which seemed to bloom under the lines of rope. Her breathing had sped up as Yulia moved closer and closer to caressing her wet folds, but her excitement was in vain as Yulia’s hands slid up to her waist instead.

It was a dance between the two of them, no words were exchanged as Aglaya begged and Yulia teased, only the lull of the familiar rhythm as Yulia waited to strike. Small huffs came from Aglaya as she grew more frantic, her shoulders betraying the way her arms strained behind her.

The goal was for Aglaya to stop thinking, worrying, to lose herself to the sensations of the world around her, and Yulia wasn’t going to touch her until she was certain Aglaya was ready to completely give up control.

After a particularly wanton thrust a soft “ah” sound left Aglaya’s lips, her first vocalization of the evening. Yulia knew it was time, now, to give in. Though she wore gloves, it was easy to feel the heat coming off of Aglaya’s skin as she finally touched the woman’s folds directly. They were shiny and pink, almost dripping, and there was a nostalgia as Yulia petted them, rolling the folds that hung longer on one side between her thumb and forefinger.

Aglaya cried out again, only incrementally louder, but it spoke volumes to Yulia. She’d spent long enough teasing the woman, so she began slowly pressing a finger inside without ceremony. Aglaya clenched around her finger immediately, and the heat seemed to envelope it.

Yulia smirked, though the other woman’s eyes weren’t open to see it. Aglaya’s hips rocked against Yulia’s finger desperately, as though she thought it was all she would get that night. Curious, Yulia refrained from adding more and simply pressed the heel of her hand against the knot there, adding pressure onto Aglaya’s clit.

Sweat beaded across Aglaya’s forehead, her eyebrows scrunched up in concentration. Each thrust seemed to bring another sound to her lips, still quiet, like a prayer. Yulia crooked her finger up, pressing where she remembered the woman had liked in the past.

The reaction was almost instantaneous, Aglaya threw her head back against the pillow as her back arched, no support from her bound arms.

“Right there,” she whispered hoarsely before her body tensed, taut like a
bowstring as Yulia continued to prod gently at the spot inside of her.

Yulia repressed the urge to stroke the woman’s face as she would have long ago, and simply rubbed circles with the thumb of her free hand above Aglaya’s hip instead. Another night she would have professed her love anew, let sweet nothings flow from her lips as coaxed her through orgasms. But this was different. A favor between friends.

“It’s been a while for you, hasn’t it,” Yulia said, tone solemn but her
face belied the humor.

Aglaya laughed, not offended in the slightest. “I’ve been busy, you know. Duty before indulgence and all that.”

She was a sight to behold, Yulia thought. The slight crinkle at the corner of her eyes as she smiled was new, and there were streaks of silver in her dark hair though she was far too young for that. Yulia wondered if it was the stress of her job.

Stress was why Aglaya was there, after all, and it wouldn’t do to have her mention work during all of this, even in passing.

Yulia eased her finger out of Aglaya before replacing it with two, stretching gently as the woman relaxed back into the mattress. She worked Aglaya open meticulously; the two strands of rope there laid on either side of her entrance. Aglaya’s clit was likely sensitive from her climax, so Yulia left it well alone as she added another finger, twisting her wrist as she stretched her fingers open and closed.

Aglaya moaned quietly but didn’t thrust her hips, no longer desperate. It was better this way, to not rush the main event. Yulia wanted Aglaya as thoroughly fucked as possible.

Soon it seemed that Aglaya was ready, if her restless hips were any indication. Yulia pulled away to rummage through the drawer of her bedside table, setting a vial of oil and a modestly sized dildo with a flared base on the table.

“Give me just a moment,” Yulia said, and carded a hand through the other woman’s dark hair, a small indulgence she allowed herself.

Yulia turned around, facing away from Aglaya as she unbuttoned her trousers. Rope wrapped around her pelvis, a harness holding a metal ring close to her body. She reached back for the dildo, and pulled the ring away from her, enough give for the dildo to slip up and through the ring, flared base resting against Yulia’s pelvis.

She buttoned her trousers back up around it, still fully clothed. Yulia turned back around to see Aglaya had been watching her, grey eyes trained on her waist. Yulia climbed back into the bed and settled back onto her haunches.

“Let’s get you up,” Yulia murmured, and used strong hands to guide Aglaya up into a sitting position.

The woman looked at her questioningly as Yulia continued to maneuver her off the bed and into a kneeling position on the floor. She reached for a pillow off of the bed and settled it under Aglaya’s knees. This would only take a moment, but it wasn’t meant to be uncomfortable.

“I’d like it if you’d suck my cock, darling,” Yulia said, taking herself in hand.

Aglaya eyed it for a moment longer before nodding, “Alright, though I can’t say I’ve gained much experience in that arena.”

Yulia rolled her eyes. When Aglaya had said she was busy lately with work, she must’ve meant she’d been busy for sex at all the past several years since they’d broken up.

“I just want to watch your face,” Yulia admitted.

The woman gave a bemused smile and leaned forward open mouthed. There wasn’t much stimulation in the action itself, the way Aglaya’s pink tongue darted out to lick the head of the dark leather before taking it in her mouth, wet trails left behind as she moved backwards and forwards, but god did she look beautiful doing it.

Yulia’s breath hitched just watching, underwear beginning to feel damp. She wouldn’t cum from fucking Aglaya like this, but she’d keep the memory of the way the woman looked up at her as she positively slurped on the dildo. It was obscene, the things she did, and Yulia knew she’d be touching herself to the thought for many nights to come.

Curiosity sated, she helped Aglaya back into the bed, her shoulders certainly sore by now. Yulia remembered that Aglaya had mentioned she enjoyed the ache, the reminder of what they’d done. Now she wondered what the reminder of tonight would be like, if it would be a good memory or an embarrassing one. She wasn’t quite sure what she would think of it come morning either.

The cork of the vial popped open, and Yulia poured a generous amount of oil into her hand before coating the dildo with it. She’d left Aglaya’s legs unbound so she’d be able to spread them comfortably. There wasn’t much of a point in the bindings if they made the sex difficult. Yulia was pragmatic, after all.

She locked eyes with Aglaya, judging her expression as she had in the past, and took hold of her length, guiding it in slowly. Aglaya inhaled sharply but didn’t move, simply let Yulia push in. Yulia waited for a moment, letting the other woman adjust before pulling out and giving a gentle thrust.

Yulia wasn’t exactly an expert at the act, she’d only figured out the harness fairly recently and hadn’t had the chance to practice much. But she was always solving puzzles, and it was only a matter of time before she’d have Aglaya writhing in the sheets once again.

Her pace quickened as Aglaya began bucking her hips to meet Yulia’s thrusts, shoulders digging into the mattress as she did. The woman was a picture in rope, eyes clenched shut and mouth hanging open, small moans rising in a crescendo as their bodies moved together.

Yulia leaned forward to brace herself, a hand on the mattress beside Aglaya and another rested on her breast. Finally, Yulia pinched her nipple and Aglaya let out a short cry, the loudest sound thus far. The headboard clacked against the wall, Aglaya writhed in the sheets, straining at the bonds keeping her arms behind her. She seemed to be looking for something to grasp at, but she couldn’t reach out.

Head hanging low with the effort, Yulia found the spot she’d found earlier with her finger and angled herself to hit it relentlessly. Aglaya keened, her head shaking back and forth at the overwhelming sensation, pleas beginning to spill from her lips.

There was the dull sound of flesh meeting flesh as Yulia thrusted from tip to hilt, pressing into the knot over Aglaya’s clit each time her length was sheathed. And each time, Yulia was rewarded with a cry. She wished she’d figured the harness out years ago, but all she could do now was savor the moment as it happened.

Time seemed to have stopped, as if the only thing in the world that mattered were the small noises around them, the heat in the air, the sweat dripping down Yulia’s forehead onto Aglaya’s chest, the way she leaned forward to capture Aglaya’s lips in a desperate kiss.

It was too hard to pretend there had been nothing between them, too callous. Yulia kissed recklessly, earnestly, her heart on her sleeve. They were bound together in some way, somehow, it was pointless to act as though they weren’t.

The kiss was sloppy, unlike the sharp precision of Yulia’s hips, and they breathed harshly into each other’s mouths, hardly concerned about technique.

The moment had to end sometime, though, and Aglaya let out a sharp cry that signaled her orgasm. She strained once more against the bonds and flung a leg around Yulia’s hip as if to grab hold of her that way. Yulia thrust slowly through her orgasm, a hand rubbing gently over her clit.

Yulia pulled out gingerly once Aglaya’s leg relaxed and flopped back onto the bed. She looked boneless, eyes closed and body sinking into the mattress. Her hair was an absolute mess, and Yulia felt as though she were really seeing the woman for the first time.

She shimmied her trousers down enough to undo the knots around her waist, freeing herself of the harness. Her shirt was soaked with sweat, but she was too tired now to bother with removing her clothes and chose to flop onto the bed next to Aglaya, instead.

They laid together in silence, not having spoken much through the whole affair. After some time Aglaya spoke, ready to be released from her own ropes. Yulia worked quickly, loosing the knot at her back and slipping the ropes back through the shapes they’d made earlier.

“I missed this,” Yulia said as she worked. “I missed you.”

Aglaya cracked open one tired eye, and Yulia felt naked now as the woman assessed her.

“I know,” she said simply, and went limp, sleep having already claimed her.

Omg please this is so cute

There are two different modes of hunger warring for dominance in Daniil’s stomach, sitting with his back a little too straight against the chair, grip a little too tight around his pen. The first is an aching pit in his stomach, threatening to swallow his body whole. It saps his strength, pulling what little keeps him living down into an abyss in the pit of his belly as he tries, desperately, to focus on something of greater importance. In the city he could go for weeks without feeding and never notice the difference, but the Sand Pest has been a drain on all his resources and it tears at him, demanding he not ignore it. It’s like the claws of a cat sinking into his flesh, tongue running over the sharpened edges of his teeth as he tries to focus his attention on the microscope in front of him.

The second – the second is a burning skin, invigorating, attuning all of his attention in another direction, hyper aware of his surroundings. His eyes widen, his mouth waters, the ghost of his pulse elevates. Funny, how being dead didn’t change the sensation of arousal all that much. Fear, excitement, hunger. All of it the exact same as when he still had a beating heart. When his time comes, and the Pest or the citizens of this town make an end of him, he wonders what Burakh will see in the corners of his body. His brain must be what keeps him still ticking, still feeling all these things he shouldn’t when everything should have shut down.

Maybe he’ll ask him sometime. After the fog has lifted, the dense particles of sick have dispersed and the town is back to normal. He’ll offer him a drink and ask if he’s ever heard of creatures that roam the night in search of a warm body to feast into, what he’d make of how they live. He can see the sparkle in the bright hues of his eyes, laughing at Daniil for believing in something so childish. And Daniil will smile, ask the man to humor him, and take his words with him when he leaves. Because he must leave; in the City such things are regarded as a fairytale, a bedtime story, and Burakh is educated just enough to feel the same. But he is not the local population. Even a broken clock is right twice a day.

The man on the bed stirs, and Daniil sucks his lip between his teeth, scribbling down a note on the sheet of paper he’s torn out to work with. Useless, all of it. What they need is some sort of chimera, and Daniil’s yet to see such a thing even here, where the impossible is probable. His further attempts at a vaccine are laughable at best, but that’s no reason to give up. He has such little in the way of options left to him.

He turns in his seat, arm over the back of his chair, and watches Artemy rest his feet upon the ground. He’s learned the rules of the house well enough to keep his shoes by the door to keep the bed free of the mud he’ll have collected in the indents. It’s just the sort of well-meaning but useless pleasantry Daniil is used to; it doesn’t, after all, mean the bed has actually been kept clean. They both carry the plague on their backs, on their clothes, sinking into their skin from the terror of the world just outside the door. The stress weighs heavy on them both, and Daniil watches Artemy roll his neck to lift some of the burden in the cracks of his joints, fingers curled over the edge of the bed.

Daniil watches, and he hungers.

“I trust you slept well?” The question amounts to little, and he knows Artemy will say he slept fine as if Daniil couldn’t hear the way he turned in his sleep, the soft rustle of fabric moving as he twitched. It’s beneath Daniil to notice such things, beneath him to care, because there’s so little he can do to soothe the troubled mind that he things Artemy would agree to. He’s not above hypnosis here or there, but something about touching Artemy with his glamour makes him feel ill. Worse than the gnawing sensation making its way to his fingertips, fingers trembling as his script grows less and less legible.

Artemy, to his credit, doesn’t bother to lie. He shrugs instead, and Daniil follows the roll of his shoulders with one leg crossing over the other. He can’t sate that hunger, either. “I’ve had better.” Daniil squeezes his legs, but the result is mere frustration. I could give you better, he thinks, and has to angle his head down to keep from giving his colleague a look he does not deserve. He wants, yes, of course. He wants Burakh so badly his head spins, but he won’t resort to trickery to get him. Things will happen or they won’t, and Daniil would rather they don’t than cheat his way into affection. “Have you eaten?”

A hoarse, bitter laugh nearly works its way to the surface. Daniil refrains with a pained look, covering his mouth with a gloved hand. “No,” he says. Perhaps he should have lied; Artemy stands now to approach him, movements slow as he works his way across the room. “There’s nothing around to eat,” he defends, and in a way it is true. He will not risk exposure by feeding on his Bound, and nor does he desire to know the taste of Sand Pest beneath his tongue. He’s not expecting Artemy to outturn his pocket and produce an apple for him, setting it on his desk.

With great disdain, Daniil sighs. “O curas hominum…” Artemy tilts his head, and pushes the apple closer toward him, eyes a bold challenge. Daniil does not duck his head yet, caught as he is by Artemy’s gaze. His hips beg to squirm, his body longs to wrap around the strong form of the man in front of him, his base desires growing stronger the longer he goes without indulging. Artemy’s fingers walk up the side of the apple, toying with the stem, and Daniil’s mind surges. He gets the feeling the fruit is not the only one being played with.

“What’s wrong, oynon?” The words are steady, unaware of the question they ask. Daniil watches Artemy’s fingers pinch the stem, and settle, one fingertip against the top. “Don’t like apples?” He should shake his head, claim an allergy, but the way Artemy stares holds his attention rapt. As if Artemy is the one who possesses the ability to hypnotize, and not Daniil. His hand lifts and sets fingers against Daniil’s cheek, thumb pressed to his lips. He pushes past them, thumb grazing the sharp points of Daniil’s teeth. “You have such pretty teeth for biting.”

His mouth waters as thumb brushes tongue. He wills his fangs to retract, grip excruciating on the back of his seat. It’s too late, now – Artemy has slid his thumb against a sharp point, not quite deep enough to cut into flesh. Daniil brushes his tongue out against the pad of Artemy’s thumb, and feels the vibrations of Artemy’s body as he shivers. He pulls at Daniil’s top lip until his sharpened teeth are exposed on the bottom. The hungers in his stomach are starting to combine now, to form one big wave to wash him over. Daniil nearly growls as Artemy’s thumb leaves his mouth, and he says the words he had before falling asleep once more: “You need to eat.”

There’s a droning in Daniil’s head, a drive to follow instinct, to reach out and touch Artemy. He holds himself in place, body tense as he watches the other man move. “I can’t,” Daniil says. The words are simple, and yet his gaze betrays him, swallowing Artemy’s form whole. He watches the man rock back on his heels and tug at the neck of his sweater. His eyes fix on the tug of his fingers. He should hold out the pretense for as long as he can, but lies fail him when Artemy lifts his head to expose his neck. “Mortal food cannot sustain me.”

“I know,” Artemy says. Daniil watches his fingers move across his buckles, undoing the tunic and lifting it from his head. Surprise settles easily over him. He should be frightened that Artemy knows, worried about the inevitable hunt that will end his life, but Artemy works with such a casual nature that Daniil cannot help but feel assured in his safety. “That is why I am offering my neck to you.”

There it is again, that phantom pulse, rabbiting as Artemy pulls up the hem of his sweater and exposes his soft stomach, his broad chest, his strong shoulders – so many places for Daniil to sink his teeth into. Daniil finds his legs spreading, heat spreading to his groin as he leans in his seat toward his colleague. His eyes roam up from the buckle of his belt to his brow, trying to keep a neutral expression. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing, Burakh?” It’s too late for Daniil to do much more to turn back, his left hand already tracing a pattern on Artemy’s chest. He can hear the rapid beat of the other man’s heart. If he removed his glove, he could feel it. “You’re playing with fire, here.”

NOT OP BUT OH DEAR GOD THIS IS ALREADY GOOD

i am anxiously awaiting part 2 hoo boy

Artemy’s fingers curl up under Daniil’s chin, directing his gaze upwards. “Then I look forward to the burn,” he says. Daniil stands, but Artemy does not retreat, his hand falling to Daniil’s shoulder. Daniil pushes him back until his knees hit the bed and he sits, his hands on Daniil’s waist. Daniil removes his gloves in a slow, fluid motion, nails grown out to scrape at the skin of his cheek as Daniil touches him. He moves Artemy’s head enough to press his lips to the section where jaw meets ear and listens, feels as his pulse triples.
Daniil takes his time in kissing down Artemy’s neck, even as his stomach protests the leisurely pace. His skin is soft, slightly salt under his tongue, but sweet and heady all the same. He can taste just below the surface when he sucks on a section and Artemy catches his breath, hands slipping lower, fingers curved around Daniil’s ass. Daniil sets his knees on either side of Artemy’s hips, and drags his teeth against raised skin.

A change hits the air the second Daniil’s teeth dig into Artemy’s neck. He hears it in the gasp Artemy lets out, small though it is. But there’s a scent, too, and a shift in the body under his. And he knows now that Artemy feels the hunger, too, unsated. His fingers tremble against Daniil’s body, tightening as his fangs sink deeper in. The first taste of blood fills Daniil’s head with a dizziness, and when he settles in Artemy’s lap he feels the want pressing up against him. He grinds against it, and the blood that flows tastes all the sweeter for the excitement coursing through it now.

He drops his left hand to tug Artemy’s belt and buttons undone, his touch light on the outline of his erection. He’s always thought the chill of his hands would make the body shrink away from him if he ever tried to satisfy this need, but Artemy’s hips roll up to him. He pulls the band of his undergarments down over his cock, wrapping his fingers around him and tugging. He feels Artemy’s swallow against his lips as he sucks on his flesh, stroking him slowly. He rolls his own hips against Artemy’s lap, body desperate for stimulation, and feels the buckle of his belt being discarded, his own button and zip being unmade. Artemy’s hand is warmer slipping down the front of his slacks, and Daniil eagerly ruts against his fingers.

His trousers work their way down his hips to his thighs, and Daniil squeezes his fist around Artemy’s cock, sucking hard on his neck. Artemy grunts, rocking up into his fist, and his hands slip, jerking Daniil’s trousers to his knees. Daniil feels the arousal peak, and he growls, dislodging his teeth from Artemy’s neck to push him by the shoulders back onto the bed. The other man’s eyes are eclipsed in black now, only rimmed by the smallest ring of blue. Daniil settles his wet sex over Artemy’s cock, adjusting his folds so the shaft is nestled between them, and digs his teeth in lower, closer to Artemy’s shoulder as he starts to rock on him.

Artemy wraps his arms around Daniil’s back, heart racing. Daniil’s lips purse, drawing up more blood as he starts to thrust his hips. He anchors his hands in the bedsheets, trying to spread his legs wide enough to give himself the friction he needs to get off. It’s a lovely feeling, Artemy’s prick hard and hot under his weight, trapped between Daniil’s body and his stomach. Artemy’s breath stutters in his chest as Daniil moves harder, moves faster, his hands roaming to Daniil’s backside to squeeze him. The motion spurs him on, snapping his hips against Artemy’s length. Artemy chokes beneath him, fingers tight just under his ass.

He jerks his hips up to grind his cock against the head of Artemy’s, listening to the other man swear hoarsely in his ear. Artemy’s hips rock up, trying to gain some control over the situation, and Daniil slides back down to the base of his cock. His partner whines, nails digging into Daniil’s skin as he tries to rock his hips up. So Daniil lifts himself off Artemy’s cock and teases him with the outline of his folds, Artemy’s hips working absently to find Daniil’s again. Daniil settles back down and rolls himself from base to tip, tugging on Artemy’s skin and lapping up the blood that pools to the surface.

“Fuck.” Artemy jerks under him, his blood flowing faster into Daniil’s mouth as his heartrate races. Daniil carefully moves his left hand from the bed to Artemy’s chest, running his nails lightly along his pectoral. He sets his palm flat against his nipple and starts to squeeze, and Artemy rubs his cock hard between Daniiil’s folds. “More,” he pants, “I need more of you.”

Daniil dislodges from Artemy’s shoulder again, sitting up on Artemy’s lap, still rocking against him. Artemy balances him by moving those warm hands up to frame his hips, and Daniil wipes his mouth off on his sleeve, leaving a trail of blood behind on it. There’s still a stream of red on Artemy’s shoulder, Daniil’s mind taken off with it as it leads down to the bed. “You’re needy for a meal,” he comments, but he climbs off Artemy’s lap, letting his slacks fall to the floor. Artemy sits up to shuck off his own trousers as Daniil pulls his shoes off. He moves to stand between Artemy’s spread legs, his cock nearly hitting his stomach, and shoves his shoulder back down to the bed, fingers harsh against the swell of his bite. Artemy winces, but doesn’t otherwise protest as Daniil pushes his thighs up, and looms over him.

Artemy’s cock throbs as he takes it in hand, spreading the precum around the head, pulling down on the shaft. He can hear Artemy’s heart skip a beat when he runs his tongue over his lips, leaning his thighs against Artemy’s. He runs the tip of Artemy’s cock between his folds until it presses back against his entrance, and starts to sink down it.

In the seconds he needs to take in Artemy’s cock, he appreciates the form of his partner on the bed, his eyes hazy with lust, his dirty blonde hair a tousled mess, his tan skin so soft and warm beneath Daniil’s pale, cold body. He hardly needs a moment to adjust himself to the intrusion, leaning over with his hands on either side of Artemy’s head. Artemy’s hands grab at his thighs again as he slides up and slams down, watching the other man’s eyes flutter closed, mouth dropping open. “Beautiful,” Daniil comments, and does it again. Artemy’s fingers bite into his flesh, though nothing would hard enough to leave bruises on dead skin. Danill bows his head down to lick the bites he’s left on Artemy’s shoulder, listening to him huff and grunt as Daniil fucks himself on his cock.

Daniil kisses down his shoulder and pulls his head back up to watch Artemy’s face as he rolls his body up and back down hard, fingers tight in the bedspread, wishing they could be digging into flesh instead. Artemy opens his eyes weakly, face flushed, body framed by his thighs. Daniil grins. “You look so good, I could eat you,” he says. His body squeezes around Artemy’s cock and his partner’s pulse jumps, making a helpless little noise. Daniil dips his head to brush their lips together, and finds himself surprised at how readily his affection is accepted.

He starts to work his way down the other shoulder, and Artemy groans, “Please.” Artemy tilts his head to bear his neck, and Daniil feels his hips writhe uselessly on the bed. “Again,” he says, “bite me again.” Daniil sucks a teasing kiss into his skin, listening to him keen. His hips try to work up into Daniil’s, grunting as he never quite manages to alter the pace of things. Finally, when his fingers have let up their grip on Daniil’s thighs, Daniil bites.

Artemy gasps, his chest rising up to meet Daniil’s. “Fuck, yes,” he moans, fingers twitching against Daniil’s skin. Artemy whimpers as Daniil draws his blood up, hands moving up to scratch at Daniil’s back through his vest. Daniil goes tight as he slides down Artemy’s cock, and he can tell his partner’s close now, breathlessly repeating his name as Daniil works them closer to the edge. He sinks his bottom teeth into the bite, digging in for a bruise, and Artemy cries out, coming apart. Daniil grunts against his shoulder, thrusting faster until he hits his own climax, rocking himself on Artemy’s cock through it.

When he pulls off he’s pleasantly full, licking the excess blood from his lips before he rolls off his partner. Artemy sets his thighs down, left knee brushing Daniil’s right. “You’ll have to wash your shirt now,” Artemy comments, his fingers lazily tracing the stain of blood across the sleeve. “Next time we do this, you’ll have to get rid of the shirt first.” And then he doesn’t afford Daniil the dignity of asking Next time? You want there to be a ‘next time’?, leaning on his side to kiss him.

not the requester but hell yeah. hell yeah. i love it.

there's not enough silly smut in this fandom so i would like to see something silly. as long as you incorporate that pizza pasta ditty into it [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9czpYfVowvg], idc how you do it! any pairings are fine (except stakh/artemy, sorry), trans or cis, anything goes!

thank u!

we all know maria has dom energy, we know she wears the strap, but i have yet to see that energy utilized on eva. they are both boss bitches, and i think regardless of romantic feelings, they've probably gotten it on a few times. i would like to see it.

Daniil's dreams had been surprisingly calm and his sleep unexpectedly restful, considering the stress and hurry of the ongoing crisis, and yet he immediately, viscerally regretted it, all because of the way he'd just now awoken.

It was a simple enough matter to have shared a mattress with Burakh, even if that mattress was far from large enough for the both of them at once. And while it was awkward, nothing especially bothered Daniil about having ended up little spoon to Burakh's broad embrace, either, save for how it stopped him from being able to get up and out of bed without waking Burakh up. Daniil felt warm and bleary. Comfortable, even.

And there were a thousand points of anxiety raising gooseflesh down his back. Because he couldn't move away without drawing attention to himself, but nor could he simply stay here, pretending he couldn't feel the half-hard press of Burakh's sizeable prick against his ass. He couldn't. There were the obvious ethical concerns, for one thing, on top of which it was literally going to drive him insane.

Their bodies were crescented together. At some point in the night they'd shifted from lying respectably parallel to all but cuddling, with Burakh's arms wrapped firmly around Daniil's middle and holding his back flush against Burakh's torso: the muscles there, the faint beat of his heart. (And Daniil knew where all that blood was pumping, didn't he.)

Burakh's unconscious breath was warm at the back of Daniil's neck. Daniil made a concentrated effort to shut his eyes, block out his sense of touch somehow, and will himself with every ounce of hope in his body to fall back asleep. If luck was on his side, Burakh's erection would peacefully subside or he'd roll onto his back and release Daniil from this hell.

Neither of those things happened. Daniil couldn't even fall asleep. He was far too aware of the rigid length nestled against his body, so terribly close to where he'd want one to be if this were a different time, circumstance, and bed companion entirely. Heat was building in his core and his nerves were alight with excitement for something that was absolutely not going to happen.

A flash of images played through his thoughts in an instant. He could rut back against Burakh's erection and wait for the man to wake up, already roused, and see where things went from there. Maybe Burakh's confident, workmanlike hand would slip beneath the hem of his sleep bottoms and search into his wet heat. Maybe—

Anger and shame at himself exploded in Daniil's mind in an instant, like a lightning strike. All in what felt like a single motion, he threw Burakh's arms off from around himself and leapt out of bed. Only then did he realize how fast his own heart was pounding. How tightly he'd clenched his jaw.

Also like a lightning strike, everything was different in the aftermath. Where there might have been a smell of ozone in the air there was instead the quick, confused blinking of Burakh's eyes in the early dawn.

"Something on fire, oynon?"

Daniil's facial muscles made an admirable but ultimately unsuccessful attempt to render any expression besides his very strong desire to hurry down the stairs and out of the building. Through some miracle, he managed to keep his feet flat on the floorboards.

"Not exactly, no," he answered uncomfortably, with a pointed but unintentional glance further down the bed.

"...oh, shit."

"Right. So." Daniil turned on his heel then, facing his desk and pulling his chair out to sit down. He might not have been able to escape utter embarrassment, but it was in the past now, and he needed to get to work. So he told himself, ignoring the fully-body flush that hadn't even begun to lessen.

The mattress creaked gently as Burakh shifted around, turning himself to face the wall. "Sorry. That definitely wasn't intentional."

"It's biological," Daniil supplied, flipping his journal open to review his notes from before he'd gone to bed.

With Burakh.

"Biological. Yeah. But still—you know. Sorry."

Daniil let out a sigh and forced himself not to turn and look Burakh's way. He'd spent enough of this morning in an addled fit as it was. "I can't blame you for automatic physical functions that happen when you're literally unconscious, Burakh. It's fine."

"You jumped out of bed like I'd stabbed you," Burakh protested. "Although, heh, I guess in a manner of sp—"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence."

"Fair enough," Burakh laughed. There was still a thin line of discomfort in his tone of voice, but it seemed they could both be diplomatic about this mishap. Good. "...Do you want to finish what we started, though?"

Daniil froze up. Surely that was also a joke. Although it wasn't very funny—not that this would have been the first time that a supposed joke had flown right over his head. Slowly, he turned, leveling Burakh with a silent and blank stare.

"Sheesh," Burakh said, laughter still in his voice, "a 'no' would have worked too, you know. No need to try to kill me with your mind... Forget I said anything."

Daniil shook his head in disbelief. "You're ridiculous. Don't try to trip me up again; I'm working."

"Trip you—? Dankovsky, I was coming on to you."

"Sure." Despite himself, Daniil felt his cheeks warming in a blush, but he committed himself to ignoring it. Or, at any rate, to not acknowledging it.

He was less able to ignore the movement in his peripheral vision when Burakh sat up entirely. "Oynon. Dankovsky. Look at me."

Daniil did. Burakh was shirtless; apparently he slept only in a pair of underwear bottoms. Daniil was suddenly encountering some difficulty in keeping his gaze trained on Burakh's eyes. He was strong and broad and soft, hair trailing down his built torso and his sun-warmed skin.

Daniil wasn't looking at his eyes, was he? Shit.

"Yes?"

"So you're clearly somewhat distracted."

"And whose fault is that?"

"I'm not pointing fingers! I'm trying to say... What I mean is... Look, we may as well."

Daniil raised an eyebrow. "Does that line usually work well for you, Burakh?"

And Burakh clicked his tongue, tsking at Daniil's reticence. "How well do you usually do your work when you're distracted in this way? Maybe you're just that good at repression, and I've got something to learn from you."

"...no. Not really." With another sigh, but a much abbreviated one, Daniil pushed his microscope back further away from the edge of the desk and folded his notebook closed. "If you really mean this—"

"I really mean it."

"—then let's do it quickly. Neither of us can afford to waste more than," he calculated, pausing to glance out the window and find the sun, "...forty minutes or so."

Burakh snorted. "That's very precise."

"Someone has to be." Daniil shrugged as he stood up. He was doing his very best to seem casual about it all, as if he did this sort of thing frequently, but the ever-returning blush on his cheeks (and traveling down his chest and out to his ears) no doubt gave him away.

Luckily for him, Burakh seemed to be blushing too. His expression was screwed up in an awkward something that approached a smile as he fell back down onto his side and moved back to make room. His eagerness did a lot to lessen Daniil's nerves, though so did being able to immediately turn and face away from Burakh so he didn't have to worry about being seen.

They fitted together just the way they'd been before, the mattress creaking slightly as two grown men shifted around and got comfortable. Daniil felt slightly ridiculous as Burakh got hold of him and pulled him back into that tight embrace... But there was no denying how being held like that made him feel.

Wasting no time now that Burakh was aware of the situation and had given his permission, Daniil arched backward, rolling his hips to find Burakh's prick again. It had gone limp in the intervening minutes, but if Burakh's sharp gasp over Daniil's shoulder was any indication, that wouldn't be a problem for long.

Moreover, Artemy was doing more than his fair shape of helping this time, balancing out his prior unconsciousness by meeting Daniil halfway with forward rolls of his own hips, rutting against the thinly-clothed crease of his ass. He also slipped a hand up and under Daniil's sleep shirt. Burakh's wide palm spread heat up Daniil's belly toward his chest, keeping him embraced, secure, held.

Daniil's long, low moan could only have encouraged him. Soon enough Burakh was pinching a hardening nipple between his thumb and forefinger, his own breath heavy in Daniil's ear as Daniil gasped his own pleasure to match the hard rut of Burakh against him.

"Hold on— Burakh, wait, stop—"

"Mngh?" Burakh asked as his movements instantly stalled, then, somewhat more eloquently, "What's wrong?"

Daniil pushed away from him enough to turn around in his arms. Then nudged his far shoulder, encouraging him to fall over flat on his back, which he did.

"Nothing's wrong at all. I'm moving things forward," Daniil answered, in the same second he began unbuttoning his sleep shirt to throw it aside. His bottoms came off next and both clothings fell in an unceremonious heap on the floor.

The twitch of Burakh's prick was visible through the fabric of his underwear. "Forward's good," he confirmed all in a rush. "I'm a big fan of forward."

"As am I," Daniil agreed, tucking fingers under the hem of Burakh's underwear to pull it down to his knees.

As Daniil repositioned himself, spreading his legs wider so he could align Burakh's full length between the folds of his core, he felt Burakh kicking one leg around. Kicking the underwear off, Daniil realized, and grinned as he slowly began to move.

"Oh. Oh, fuck," Burakh moaned.

Daniil could only hum agreement. He'd screwed his eyes shut to focus on the feeling of the sweet drag of Burakh's cockhead against his own prick, enlarged and poking out of its hood. His own slick made it easy to ride the length of Burakh's prick. Each and every sliding thrust felt more natural and necessary than the last.

Burakh seemed to agree with that, too: his hands grabbed onto the soft of Daniil's ass, fingers digging in so hard it would probably mean bruises, just to slip harder and more efficiently against him.

This was what Daniil had wanted. The heat and the movement and the building need. This had been his private daydream and the cause of his sudden horror not more than fifteen minutes ago. Exactly this.

"F-fuck, Dankovsky... I need—Let me fuck you. I mean," Burakh interrupted, correcting himself, "if you, uh, want that. Because I want that."

Now it was Daniil who laughed a little, giddy and flattered, and brought his movements to a lazy, barely-there rocking. He drew out the long seconds before he responded just to watch the desperate hope in Burakh's eyes.

Then, finally: "Yes, I want that, too."

He sat up on wobbly knees to assess the mess he'd made of them both. Burakh's prick was wet and glistening with Daniil's slick... enough of it to use to ease himself down. Next he leaned back, reaching two fingers through his core to wetten them, then reaching them around to start to prise himself open.

"Oh."

"What? Don't tell me you have a problem with this. If you meant to come on to a man in the first place, I figured you'd have assumed—"

Burakh was quickly shaking his head. "Dankovsky, do you really think I'm one to look a gift horse in the—well, the..."

"Don't finish that sentence either," Daniil groaned, half in exasperation and half as he curled his own fingers the way he knew he liked. He felt himself relaxing. Leaning further back so he could see what he was doing, he took Burakh's prick by the base in his other hand and slowly worked up the length until he had enough control to guide it against his hole. It took some doing to slip it first against his fingers then pull those fingers away without botching the whole operation, but when both of them hissed simultaneous noises of pleasure, Daniil felt confident enough to brace both palms against the bed behind his back.

"Stay goddamned still," he insisted, lowering himself down what felt like a millimeter at a time.

Burakh's hands had tightened entirely in the sheets, fabric twisting hard into his balled fists. "Yeah, got it, will do..." he breathed dreamily, not seeming especially like he could move if he tried.

All told, it wasn't much time at all before Daniil managed to take him in entirely, bottoming out on his prick with his back arched so he was nearly looking straight up. Somehow he wouldn't be surprised if he'd seen a scattering of stars painted across the ceiling. Especially once he started moving and Burakh's hands held fast onto either side of his waist.

Daniil lifted himself up and back then dropped down and forward, slowly at first but not for long, until he and Burakh were fucking in a rough, dirty rhythm, skin smacking against skin every time Daniil slammed down to meet their bodies together.

Burakh's hands dug in tightly again. Yet another set of deep bruises marking Daniil's skin. Daniil could hardly deny the way the strength of Burakh's hands made him shiver with arousal. He bit down on his lower lip as his toes curled in and his front hole ached to no avail, clenching desperately around nothing while Daniil drew his pleasure elsewhere.

Still— "Touch me already..."

Nodding rapidly, apologetically, Burakh lifted one hand off of Daniil's waist and immediately placed it with his thumb pad just under Daniil's prick, ready to push up and rub. "Like this?"

"Yes," Daniil gasped, and then again, "yes, yes," until it became something of a mantra, less a word than a noise, and one that continued through the onrush of Daniil's orgasm. Any coherent thought disappeared in a long moment of reckless bliss that left him quivering and panting in its aftermath.

The thought of getting up and facing the day nearly pained Daniil. He stayed seated on Burakh's prick for as long as he could get away with it, rubbing against his pelvis to steal whatever more sensation he could from Burakh being buried so deep inside. As it turned out, he could only get away with it for a minute or so while Burakh was still catching his breath, then he was quickly heaved up and off.

"I'd be worried about my dignity, being tossed around like that," Daniil teased near-breathlessly, "except I'm not sure whether you still believe I have any."

Burakh rolled his eyes. Among the mess of shining slick on him, there was also a trail of thicker white cum running down his softening prick and over the curve of his balls; it was no doubt a match for the wet warmth dripping out of Daniil's hole and gathering between his thighs. He must look absolutely ruined.

But all Burakh said, after everything, was "you're exactly the same pain-in-the ass arrogant colleague you were yesterday, don't worry," and. Well.

Daniil liked this morning quite a lot more already.

Make no mistake, Alexander does not think his wife to be fragile. She has proven herself to be strong and capable time and time again, often even more so than himself.

So when he lays her gently upon the bed, it is not out of any fear of her breaking beneath his touch—rather, it’s because Katerina deserves all the care and attention he can give her.

She pulls the pins from her hair, letting it fall in waves around her. Alexander’s lips meet with hers. Hands on both sides reach forward, gripping against shoulders and waists and hair, settling into each other naturally. When their lips part and they’ve gasped breath back into their lungs, Alexander moves lower. He kisses feather-light upon her jaw, neck, collarbone, and then at the low neckline of her dress.

The skirt is drawn up to her knees by Alexander’s hands, where they then move further up her thighs in a slow caress. Every movement is filled with devotion for the woman before him.

Katerina undoes the buttons of Alexander’s shirt, equally as unhurried. Lying in bed like this, they have all the time in the world to appreciate one another, in a way that they don’t normally get to. They’ll make full use of this time.

More kisses are applied to Katerina’s neck as the dress is pulled up over her hips, her black underwear revealed to Alexander’s wandering hands. Fingers skim over the waistband, then down the front, applying pressure through the thin cloth. A heavy breath heats Alexander’s temple.

The last few buttons are pulled out until his shirt hangs loose around him. Katerina’s thin fingers roam his chest and stomach eagerly. Her gaze, when Alexander meets it, is filled with an abundance of love.

To adore and be adored in turn is something that will always come as a surprise to Alexander. It’s obvious that Katerina should be treated with all the care and love in the world, but to have that same care turned towards himself is a shock every time, no matter how often Katerina whispers to him how handsome he is. If he were to guess why, he might have supposed that he’s simply used to fighting for every ounce of respect.

With Katerina drawing his belt from his pants, however, that couldn’t be further from Alexander’s mind.

Once the front is undone, she tugs his pants far enough down to return Alexander’s earlier favor and rub his hardening length through the briefs. Arousal builds low in his stomach. They can only be so patient, though, and they break apart to shuck their clothes.

The sight of Katerina laying on the bed—her gorgeous breasts heaving with each breath, her legs parted and awaiting his return—is always enough to cause a stutter of his heart. Alexander rejoins her on the bed, unable to help as his eyes wander down her form.

"My beautiful Katya," he admires.

"My handsome Sasha," Katerina says, smiling.

It’s a call and response they know well, but one that they never grow tired of, perhaps because it is said just as genuinely every time. How could Alexander not be in awe of his wife?

Alexander bends his head and places his lips upon her sternum. A hand brushes through his hair, perhaps to urge him on, or to simply feel him there. Whatever the case, Alexander moves on, cupping Katerina’s breasts in his hands. He chooses one at random and he licks against her perk nipple. The other receives ample attention from his fingers, and eventually his mouth as he switches over.

Katerina lets out a relaxed sigh, her legs tightening around him. So sudden is the feeling of his length brushing against her that it causes him to pause, fearful of his jaw clenching down on her.

Even more pleasurable is Katerina reaching for Alexander and stroking him slowly, building that well of arousal further. He gasps, his hardness dripping against her stomach.

"I want you inside me," she says in a low voice that sends a shudder through Alexander.

Knowing what this is leading to is one thing, but hearing her say it is what hardens him fully. He remembers precisely how it will feel, and he aches for it, for how she will feel warm and lovely around him.

"Anything you wish for is yours," Alexander says, ever the loyal husband.

He trails his fingers down her body, and finds her just as wet and wanting as he. Katerina’s sensitive nub receives his touch first. Her thighs tense, and then she moans, her breathing growing more laborious with each of his strokes.

"Would you do me the honor of allowing me to pleasure your beautiful body with my mouth?" Alexander asks.

"Such a gentleman. I allow it."

Katerina removes her legs from around him, widening to let Alexander in. He lies on his chest, face mere centimeters from her. Katerina’s folds part easily to his fingers, her glistening sex on full display for him. Drops of her slick roll to the bed below and dampen it.

Her taste is familiar to him now, but no less enticing. It coats his tongue as he licks her. Katerina cants her hips against his mouth and moans again.

One of Alexander’s fingers pushes at her soaked hole, and it welcomes him eagerly. He curls it up, searching for that spot inside her that she loves.

When her hands grasp him tightly, he knows he’s found it. Alexander pulls the finger in and out in shallow movements. Once she’s wet enough, he slowly adds a second finger, focusing again on that spot, and all the while sucking on her nub.

Katerina cries out, her hole gushing and tightening. Alexander stops as she settles, and leans up to kiss her softly.

It’s only after she’s caught her breath that Alexander asks, “"Are you satisfied, my dearest, or would you like to continue?"

"Continue. I still want you to make love to me."

They come back together in a warm embrace, but not quite flush with each other.

Alexander’s length lines up with Katerina’s entrance, gathering her wetness on its end. Then, he pushes in, steady and careful. It’s just as breathtaking as Alexander remembers.

Their patience is rewarded when Alexander’s hips meet with Katerina’s. To have himself completely inside his wife is unlike anything else. This is a pure expression of their union, and of their love.

Pleasure sparks hot in Alexander as he starts to move. Katerina is still so tight around him. The copious amount of slick helps as he pulls out halfway, then pushes back in. It’s doubtful that Alexander will last long when she makes him feel this good.

His thrusts grow faster each time he pulls out, the gasps and moans of husband and wife overlapping. Katerina’s hand moves down to touch herself, and makes her sound even louder. Alexander is the one who orgasms first, spilling deep inside of Katerina. She follows soon enough after that her tightening hole sends shocks of pleasure through him.

Alexander falls into the arms of his wife, both of them worn out and sweaty. He feels a blissful peace as his eyes close and his heart calms.

There was some part of Lara that could never turn away someone in need, no matter how prickly or disagreeable the person was. Whether for pity or genuine care, she wasn’t sure, but when she’d heard of a fire in the Earth district and came running, only to see Aspity staring at the ashes, she’d insisted on taking her in.

The woman was snappish and surly as usual, though perhaps the degree was exaggerated due to her circumstance. It had been a battle of wills between the two, but Lara wasn’t as submissive as everyone seemed to think. Besides, if Aspity had truly wanted, she could have stormed off and Lara would have been powerless to stop her. But for whatever reason, despite their strained relationship - if one could even call it that - Aspity agreed to stay with Lara until she got back on her feet.

The houses in Gorkhon were often bare, save for necessities, but losing one’s home was devastating no matter the amount of personal effects lost alongside it. Though Aspity acted unaffected, Lara suspected it was merely a veneer over the hurt inside.

Aspity hadn’t lived long in Gorkhon, not like most of the others had. Sure, people moved in from the Capital once in a while, but most of the town’s inhabitants including Lara had been there since birth. Aspity’s arrival had preceded the first Sand Plague, ravaging the town just as it did now. Many had accused her of causing it, and it seemed those same people had turned violent towards her once again.

Lara didn’t believe in such superstitions; she was wholly bound to the simple tasks of life. In this manner she set straight to her earthly duties drew a bath for the woman as soon as they arrived at the shelter, Aspity now covered in ash and blood. She had snapped that she was perfectly capable of doing such a thing herself, but once again made no real move to keep Lara from her task.

She sat in an armchair in the parlor, mulling over the situation as Aspity bathed, wondering what it would be like living with the woman famous for being alone. There were all kinds of rumors about Aspity about town: that she was created from the earth’s clay, that she would bring maladies to the town, that she had legs made only of bone without flesh.

It was impossible to tell with the heavy cloak which hung perpetually from her broad shoulders, but Lara’s thoughts often lingered on the last of those rumors. What would it be like, if it were true, to walk only on bones with no cushion to shield them from the cold? Did they feel pain? And where, then, did the bone end? Did it extend up the thigh, to the point where her two legs met?

Lara shook her head trying to erase the thought, as if a swift turn from left to right could extinguish the glowing embers of interest that had been kindled in Lara’s heart some months ago. She’d spotted the woman in public after a long absence and it had struck her just how handsome she looked. Which had led to the occasional fantasy here and there, and now she’d be living here with Lara for an extended period of time.

Yet, the woman had just experienced a tragedy, and here Lara was, wondering how the other woman had - well, that was enough for today. She stood abruptly from the chair she’d been seated in. She didn’t have time to think about this when there was always work to be done, so she set about her chores in the kitchen.

She settled into a familiar rhythm, preparing food for supper, and cleaning the counters as she went. Her thoughts quieted down to a low hum as she worked. And yet, of course, as soon as Lara had forgotten the situation, Aspity appeared in the kitchen.

Her dirty robe was wrapped around her, still covered in ash, and it dragged along the floor as she walked, loose threads trailing after her.

“I could mend that, if you wanted,” Lara said as the other woman drew near. Her nose began to wrinkle in their proximity, “Or at least give it a wash.”

Aspity fixed her with a stare she couldn’t break, and she felt her whole body freeze.

“That won’t be necessary,” she quipped. “It’s been washed recently enough.”

“It’s quite covered in ash,” Lara remarked before she could stop herself. “And I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you without it.”

Aspity smirked, “That’s because when I’m not wearing it, I’m naked.”

Lara flushed, and tried to look away, look down, and instead her eyes traced down the other woman’s body, lingering at the subtle swell of her hip under the shapeless garment.

“Well, I’ve got plenty of extra clothes here you can wear while I wash it. It won’t be but a day to wash and dry, I’m certain even you could stand to wait.”

Aspity grew closer still, “Am I known to be so impatient?”

She was nearly breathing in Lara’s ear, and the smell of her own soap coming from the other woman’s hair was almost intoxicating. If she didn’t know better, she’d say Aspity was flirting with her. But that couldn’t be right. If anything, she was probably distracting herself from the situation.

Lara instinctively took a step back, “That’s not it, I just assumed you wouldn’t want to part with it for long.”

She found that at some point she’d once again locked eyes with Aspity and couldn’t look away. It seemed to her that the other woman could see through her skin and bone, directly into her soul. They stood like that for a moment, just staring.

Aspity must have found whatever she’d been searching for, because all at once she smirked and whirled around.

“You can wash it if you really want to do it that badly,” she called over her shoulder, and disappeared into the shadows.

Lara looked back towards the sink of dirty dishes and decided to tackle the laundry issue another day.

---

The weeks passed quickly like this, Aspity shooting quick remarks as Lara bustled about her work and questionably intentioned words spoken low after the regulars had left the shelter. Though the plague had come and gone, and the townspeople settled, they hadn’t discussed her plans or when she’d be leaving. Lara felt as though she could hardly stand to be in Aspity’s presence for yearning, yet she couldn’t stand the idea of the woman leaving.

It didn’t make sense, really. They were such an odd pair, the two of them, and Lara struggled to think what the other woman could possibly gain from this strange budding relationship, besides the material, and yet -!

Lara had grown impossibly close to her in such a short time, perhaps because despite working amongst all types of people every day, deep down she was lonely. Perhaps because there was the thrilling sense that Aspity was interested in her, interested in having more.

While Aspity was far bolder than Lara, they still butted heads, unafraid to argue or upset one another. Even contempt breeds familiarity, and in fighting it seemed they grew closer, gained a better understanding of each other. Though the most common argument was over Aspity’s quite outrageous milk consumption and the impact it had on Lara’s morning bowl of cereal.

Lara found herself thinking about it again one night as she worked on her nightly handcrafts. The fireplace glowed just bright enough for her to see her knitting, although it didn’t do much for her concentration; the sweater panel she’d been working on was steadily growing narrower as she dropped stitch after stitch in her daydreaming.

Aspity sat across from her, in the only other armchair in the parlor. She was whittling some wood into a strange shape, or perhaps it was still too early to be discerned by a viewer’s eye. It was these small moments in which Lara felt she saw a glimpse of Aspity’s true character. Though she was outwardly negative, and often scorned the town they lived in she seemed, to Lara at least, to be a rather calm and collected individual.

Lara had neither invited nor dissuaded the woman from sitting with her, yet each night they sat across from each other in the warm glow of the embers, working quietly on their own projects, and occasionally exchanging words. Then, at some point, Lara would bid Aspity goodnight, and for just a single moment her breath would feel caught in her throat as the other woman offered the resemblance of a smile instead of her usual smirk.

If asked, Lara wouldn’t be able to explain what it was Aspity saw in her and why. Of course, she’d been incredibly generous to offer her home to Aspity, but surely anyone else would do the same. Her house had been burned down; she’d been hunted as a witch once more, forever persecuted for crimes she’d never committed. Or, crimes she’d atoned for, at least. They were both followers of the Humble ideology after all, bound together in the sense of guilt they shared.

There was no doubt that tonight would pass just as they had for the past month, but Aspity quit her whittling far earlier than normal, Lara forced to look back at her poor forgotten knitting to pretend she hadn’t been watching the woman’s hands work deftly with the wood.

It was obvious, unfortunately, due to her red cheeks and mangled garment that she’d not been paying attention to her own work.

“I’m going to bathe,” Aspity announced as she stood up, stretching her arms above her head. It wasn’t enough to pull the hem of the large cloak up off the floor to expose her much debated feet, and certainly Lara hadn’t been wondering about them at all.

“Alright,” she said coolly in response, or at least she hoped it had sounded cool. “Shall I draw a bath for you?”

Lara risked a glance up at the woman and saw that the corners of her mouth had quirked up just slightly.

“Actually, I was going to ask if you’d like to join me,” Aspity said, her eyes gleaming in the firelight.

“Ah, well,” Lara stumbled for words, “that is, if you’d like me to, I’d take great pleasure in accompanying you.”

It wasn’t as if Lara had never been embarrassed in her life, but it seemed now that the burning flush in her cheeks and the awful twisting of her stomach was worse than it had ever been before. Surely Aspity would rescind the invitation immediately upon hearing Lara’s awkward response.

She bowed her head over her knitting in shame but startled when a hand rested gently atop her shoulder. It was the first intentional touch they’d shared, and it seemed that warmth trickled from the point of contact. Lara looked up, searching Aspity’s face for familiarity, but found none. The look in her eye was different, unreadable.

“Shall we?” Aspity asked.

Lara nodded, confidence somewhat restored, and rose to follow the other woman to the washroom.

---

Hot water rushed loudly into the tub, causing droplets to spray up from the surface and into the air, occasionally flecking the old wallpaper with moisture. Lara waved her hand about in the water to test the temperature, silent as she did so.

Behind her, Aspity fussed with her robe. The thick shawl which had hung so long around her neck dropped to the floor with a thump, and Lara resisted the urge to turn around. It wasn’t polite to watch a woman undress, no matter how uncouth she may be, and no matter the activities that may ensue. Besides, Aspity had only invited her to the bath. Perhaps nothing would happen at all.

The tub was plenty full by now, Lara saw fit to turn off the faucet, and with a loud squeak the room became silent, save for the soft rush of fabric as Aspity drew her robe over her head. It, too, fell to the ground and then Lara was fully aware of what she’d gotten herself into.

“My, my, Lara, are you being chivalrous?” Aspity joked.

Lara felt her face burn again, though not as hotly this time. “It’s simple decency,” she said petulantly. Certainly, desire coursed through her, but she’d waited this long to see the woman’s body, a moment more wouldn’t hurt.

“How darling,” Aspity said, and then she moved forward to step into the bath.

There was a clack against the floor, Lara hadn’t noticed before. It wasn’t sharp, closer to a soft thud, and yet, it rang in her ears as if it were a trumpet fanfare.

Aspity lowered herself gingerly into the bath, the yellow bones of her legs holding her steady in her descent.

Lara’s mouth fell open though no sound came out as she watched the woman sink into the water, sliding forward until the water covered her chest, her bent knees sticking out of the water in the small tub.

“It’s true,” she whispered at last.

Aspity’s eyes were closed as she spoke, “If you tell anyone, I’ll have to skin you alive.”

As suddenly as blood had rushed to her cheeks earlier, Lara felt it drain away, leaving her paler than before. She must have gasped because Aspity opened her eyes and then reached out a wet hand to grasp Lara’s still-clothed arm.

“I’m only joking,” she said. “But still, I’d prefer it if the town’s suspicions weren’t confirmed, considering what happened to my last place of residence.”

“Of course,” Lara assured her, “I’d never breathe a word of this to anyone else.”

“I know,” Aspity replied simply. “I wouldn’t have shown you if I’d thought you would. Much as I detest your pity, there’s more between us than we can escape from.”

The wet hand withdrew into the bath, and Lara felt that if she didn’t make a move now, she never would.

“May I wash you?” she asked. The request felt far too intimate, the situation was far too intimate, and yet, Lara could not be swayed now from the path she’d gone down. Besides, her curiosity was far too strong, she had to see the woman’s body, had to understand it, commit it to memory.

“With that shirt on?” Aspity asked, nodding at Lara’s long sleeves.

She hastened to unbutton the front of her shirt, and pulled off her undershirt along with it, leaving her chest bare. It didn’t seem fair for only one of them to be naked, but Lara left her trousers on for now. The tile floor was cold, after all.

Lara reached for the washcloth that hung on the side of the tub and lathered it with soap. She moved towards the woman’s legs but then stopped short, unsure of herself. Sensing her discomfort, Aspity stretched one leg out and rested the bone of her ankle on the edge of the tub.

“Go ahead,” she murmured, eyes closed once more.

It was scary, strange, and wonderful all at once to run the rag gently over calcified toes, to watch the impossible movement as they curled in response with no tendons to pull them. A low sigh escaped Aspity’s lips, indicating she could feel Lara’s touch.

Finally, Lara relaxed, as though she’d finally let out a breath she’d been holding for far too long. The months of repressed interest and feeling followed by a month so close together finally took hold in her heart, and a smile lit up Lara’s oft worried visage.

She worked carefully up to the knee before starting on Aspity’s other leg, afraid to wash her thighs so soon, wanting the moment to stretch forever. It was fascinating still, the way the bone gave way to flesh above the kneecap; gradual yet clean, bloodless. Lara wasn’t entirely sure that a heart was beating within Aspity’s chest, but it wasn’t that which made her human.

Her legs done, Aspity rearranged herself so that both legs were submerged, and her upper half rose above the water.

“You’re beautiful,” Lara said quietly in awe, and Aspity scoffed in response.

“No need to lie,” she said. “I’m well aware of what I look like, thank you.”

Lara shook her head, “I don’t mean to flatter you.”

“I’m used to your pity,” Aspity said, opening her eyes, “You needn’t waste it on me any longer. We’re both just looking for a fuck, aren’t we?”

Lara faltered, “I wasn’t.”

The weight of her words hung in the air, the admission to feeling, not just a simple protest.

“Look, I, I don’t mind if that’s all you want. I’m not quite so delicate as you think. But at least let me speak my mind, Aspity. At least let me tell you how beautiful you are, how much it means to me to finally know what you look like beneath that cloak and see you for who you really are.” Lara took a shaky breath. “Because even if it doesn’t mean anything to you, it does to me. Okay?”

Aspity looked lost for the first time since Lara had known her, since she’d first appeared in the town five years ago. The intensity about her face remained, but there was something else. Her brows crinkled together in the middle of her forehead and she was quiet, as if the cogs that spun in her head had ground to a halt.

“Is that...the first time someone’s said something like that to you?” Lara asked.

Aspity quickly turned away, “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Lara’s face quickly split into a grin, “I can’t believe this. You’re embarrassed. You, the most shameless person I’ve ever met, embarrassed a woman earnestly thinks you’re attractive.”

“Shut up,” she muttered.

Lara dipped the washcloth back into the warm water, having grown cold in the interim. She reached out once again and began to wash the woman’s broad shoulders.

“You’re so strong,” Lara said, scrubbing across her back. “I’ve thought often of how it would feel to be held by you, to be carried.”

She brought the rag further and further down Aspity’s back as she went, running it across the folds of fat along her sides. It was strange now to see that there was a form beneath the rectangular shape of her robe. Aspity was human underneath, full of soft curves and small points, the hard line of her jaw the same as her elbow and strong shoulders, yet contrasted with the swell of her breasts and stomach, dark hair scattered across her skin, the thin curved white lines crawling up her hips and chest that showed she’d grown, that she was a person.

It was almost overwhelming, and Lara’s heart brimmed over with affection. She abandoned the rag to the side of the tub once again and began to trace small patterns against Aspity’s back, fingers running lightly over the skin.

It was silent save for the occasional drip from the faucet and the sound of breathing. Once, Aspity let out a contented hum. Lara returned to washing, and Aspity turned back towards her, baring her chest. Ever so gently, Lara brushed the washcloth over Aspity’s breasts, and heard the sharp intake of air in response.

She washed over the woman’s rib cage, traveled lower over her stomach, but Aspity grabbed her wrist before she could move any lower.

“The water’s grown cold,” she said.

Lara froze, unsure of what she’d done wrong, but before she could respond, Aspity spoke again.

“Let’s move to the bedroom.”

Lara’s shoulders slumped with relief, and then she stood to help the other woman out of the tub. As Aspity toweled off, Lara collected their discarded clothes and folded them out of habit and was once again aware of how exposed she was. She moved to her room, different from the one Aspity had been staying in and took off her trousers there. Now they were even.

Aspity came in soon after, dry and smelling freshly of Lara’s soap. She moved swiftly to close the distance between them, tilted her face up and brought their lips together. Lara was surprised both at the gesture and the warmth of her mouth, for some reason she’d expected it to be cold as the words that most often came out of it. They kissed this way for a few minutes before Aspity walked forward and the backs of Lara’s knees hit the bed.

She sat down on the edge of the bed and Aspity climbed atop her lap, nipping now at her neck, the lobe of her ear, breath hot against her skin. Lara’s hand trailed down Aspity’s chest, palming her breast as her other hand dug into the woman’s short dark hair.

Lara wasn’t quiet during lovemaking, short gasps and moans falling from her lips with each touch of teeth to her skin. Aspity’s hands roamed down Lara’s torso, one stroking lightly at the sensitive skin of her lower abdomen, the other rubbing playfully over a dusky nipple, teasing it until it hardened.

Having moved on to heavy petting, Aspity pushed gently against Lara’s shoulders, and she leaned back onto the bed, Aspity fully on top of her now. Lara let her legs fall open without thinking, and Aspity’s hand moved down to caress her inner thighs. Her hips arched into the touch, and Aspity obliged.

There was a hunger in Aspity’s touch, not gentle nor teasing like lovers Lara had taken in the past. Some fluttered around the act in a display of preparation, waiting for the right moment. Others still were cruel in their love, making her cry out loudly with want before indulging. Aspity, however, had no notion of such things, and responded exactly as Lara wanted.

Each moan spurred the woman along, her fingers quickly finding Lara’s clit and rubbing against it, pressing harder as Lara shoved her hips up against the hand. Aspity’s fingers were rough and calloused, and they seemed to press so deliciously against her.

Lara got lost in the pleasure, already forgotten how often she was the giver, always sure to attend to her lover first. It had never been like this before, and she was wholly consumed by Aspity’s quick tempo, barely thinking as words fell from her lips, gentle cries between “like that” and “right there” and “don’t stop, please”.

She felt her toes curl and her muscles tense, shoulders pressing against the bed as her back arched up, a hand groping wildly for the other woman’s shoulder to anchor her, shaking as she came.

There was a moment before Lara fell limp against the bed, mind fuzzy.

“Mm,” she said eloquently.

“Mm indeed,” Aspity replied from above her. If Lara wasn’t mistaken, there was a tiny bit of fondness in her expression.

Aspity moved off the bed to kneel on the floor, head now level with Lara’s knees. Lara pushed herself up on her elbows, confused. The other woman leaned in, pressed a kiss against her thigh and Lara was struck with realization.

“Wait,” she said. “It’s your turn.”

The signature smirk was back. “Believe me, this is my turn,” Aspity said.

Though the two had argued before, Lara had to admit her heart wouldn’t be in this one. Who was she to deny Aspity, the stubborn woman made of clay and bone, from giving her pleasure? There would be other times, she hoped. So, Lara settled back against the bed, wove her fingers into Aspity’s hair as she drew closer, and relaxed.

Aspity sucked marks into her thighs, a free hand reaching up to hold her hip. Lara whined, and once again without deliberation Aspity moved closer, pressed her tongue up against Lara’s swollen clit.

She was positive she must be dripping, having already come with nothing inside, and the wet sound of Aspity’s tongue lapping against her slit was sinful. Once again, her hips rose, careful now as to not break the woman’s nose. Aspity followed, pressing her tongue against Lara’s entrance, fucking her shallowly with it.

Every touch seemed so sensitive, so raw, Lara’s fingers clenched the bedsheets with each new wave of feeling.

“I need,” she started, but cut herself off with a moan as Aspity sucked once more at her clit. “Please, Aspity, I need you inside me,”

Responsive as ever, Aspity pushed a finger inside gently as Lara rocked against it, eager to be filled. She begged for more and Aspity gave, as simple as that. Aspity crooked her fingers forward and Lara nearly shouted, overwhelmed by the feeling.

The sensation was delicious and inescapable, with each thrust of her hips Aspity’s fingers curled, mouth sucking firmly at her clit all the while. When a third finger pressed inside, Lara knew she’d be coming again soon. She could feel sweat trickling down her cheek, her hair sticking to her forehead, the fitted sheet growing wet against her back.

She writhed against the bed, shaking as she felt another orgasm coming. For a moment, Lara opened her eyes, looked down between her legs and saw Aspity looking back, face wet with slick, a look of devotion in her eyes. And then Lara was coming, her voice hoarse with overuse, her muscles fluttering around Aspity’s fingers as she fucked her slowly through it.

When Aspity first tried to remove her fingers Lara had stopped her, mumbled she liked the feeling. Instead Aspity traced patterns against Lara’s thigh with her free hand, an imitation of earlier that night in the bath. Lara reached down, placed her hand atop Aspity’s and held it.

“I like having you here,” she said, the first time either of them had addressed the subject out loud.

“You’re just lonely,” Aspity muttered.

“So are you,” Lara said quietly. “That’s why you’re still here, isn’t it?”

It was silent for a moment, Aspity finally slipping her fingers out and climbing up onto the bed.

“You don’t have to stay,” Lara said, uncomfortable in the silence. “The town’s mostly put back together now; we could get you situated somewhere. And, not to accuse you of having feelings, but I’ve lived alone a long time. I’ll be fine without you here.”

Aspity turned to face her and she looked completely unguarded, face still shining and wet. “I know. That’s not why I stayed,” she said.

“Aspity…” Lara breathed.

“Don’t say it.”

Lara couldn’t help it; she grinned, rolled over and pulled the woman down into an embrace. Aspity allowed herself to be held, and threw one bony leg over Lara’s, a small gesture of words that she might never say: she cared.

“Ah, we really should have done the bath second,” Lara sighed. “You’re all sweaty now.”

Aspity smirked, pressed her wet lips to Lara’s, “We’ll just have to take another one, then.”

wanting to see daniil getting artemy to cum on his face/body and finding it intensely arousing. i generally like daniil to be trans but cis is fine as well.

A loud smack echoed through the room and Eva twitched slightly, the slaps against her ass just beginning to sting. Yulia, the woman behind her, worked methodically and ever so carefully. Not careful as in gently, no, that wasn’t the intention here, but rather each strike of her palm or instrument was calculated to deliver a precise feeling. Sometimes it was gentle, the soft pat before a harsher blow, or quick, successive slaps just hard enough to sting.

There was a pattern, certainly, though it was never predictable to Eva. Of course, she tended to get lost in the sensation and she cared little if many strikes resembled another. She just enjoyed the play and lucked out in having Yulia as a partner.

It had been a simple case of opposites attract; Eva’s carefree attitude to Yulia’s stern demeanor, her capriciousness to the other’s stability, one who wore skirts for the purpose of attracting other women and one who wore pants for the same purpose. What one lacked, the other made up, and although conflicting ideals sometimes lead to arguments, they were well matched otherwise.

It made sense, then, that what had started off as Eva’s flippant suggestion had turned into something so deliberate. If Eva thought about it too long, she’d get teary eyed, the amount of work her partner put into satisfying her was overwhelming sometimes.

Right now, though, she focused on the sensation of being spanked, the cool leather glove on Yulia’s hand as it smacked against her reddening thighs and ass. Eva’s pelvis was propped up by a few pillows on the bed, her knees spread wide to support her as she leaned forward against the bed, her arms folded beneath her chest.

Yulia liked to start slow, although Eva could take it or leave it. There would be a harder blow every once in a while, one that really smarted. Sometimes she thought she could see stars, the surprise of the blow and the stinging sensation mingling together, feeling herself grow needier all the while.

In between slaps Yulia would massage roughly, the seams of her gloves catching occasionally against skin as she dug in her thumb, stroked the inside of Eva’s thighs, getting her to open up more. And then suddenly the loud smack would sound through the room again, seeming to Eva as if it rang throughout the earth.

Then there were several slaps, a few on each side, one on her thigh, the pain starting to dull as time went on. Several hard spanks across her left asscheek made Eva shout, but Yulia could sense she was growing used to it, the way Eva stopped jerking with each slap, no short gasps, and cries but long moans that merely grew louder on impact.

It was freeing, giving herself to the other woman. Frankly, Eva just liked sex, didn’t care if it had all the bows and whistles or not, she enjoyed it all the same. She could live without the ritual, and she often did, and there was something enticing about being able to come on Yulia’s fingers in just a few minutes, quick sex had in the closet fully clothed except for the distinct lack on underwear beneath her skirt. No matter how familiar they were with each other, it never stopped being exciting.

But this, this was something else entirely. When she lay herself bare here beneath her lover, she entrusted her whole being to her. Trusted that Yulia knew her so completely, to understand what she wanted, what she needed without speaking. Of course, there were rules, words, signals, not everything went perfectly every time. But there was trust, always.

Trust now, as Eva melted into the bed, sweaty forehead against her arms, that Yulia understood. And she did, stepped back to grab the riding crop beside the bed. Each hit now was sharper, a new layer, and Eva was back again, writing which each thwack of the crop. The surface area was smaller than Yulia’s hand, each impact stinging a bit harder, and while dangerous in other hands, Yulia was always careful, never striking the same place twice, ignoring the less fleshy backs of her thighs.

Between strikes she would run the crop lightly over Eva’s ass and thighs, gentle before the quick whir in the air, giving Eva just seconds to prepare before another hit.

Eva couldn’t help but wiggle backwards, spread her legs further, she could feel herself growing wetter as the minutes ticked by. Yulia gently rubbed her thumb in circles across Eva’s sore ass, the glove still cool as it pressed into the dimples and marks scattered across her body. She leant down and pressed feather light kisses against hot flesh. Eva whimpered in response, grateful for the reprieve, yet shaking from the lack of attention to her pussy.

It was agonizing, having her lover’s mouth so close to where she needed it, and knowing that it wasn’t time yet. Still, she moved against Yulia’s mouth, earning her a low chuckle.

“Not yet, dear,” Yulia said as she pulled back, the first words she’d spoken in a long while. “You look beautiful, though, absolutely gorgeous, all for me.”

Eva whined but wasn’t disappointed. Good things came to those who waited. The crop was back, a shower of quick light strikes before a harder blow close to the inside. Eva couldn’t help it, she yelped, tired body jumping to react. It didn’t seem like it would be tiring, just lying on the bed, but the impact play took a lot out of her as it went on, her body quickly trying to remedy the pain she was so desperate to feel.

There was a euphoria almost, the adrenaline that came with the anticipation, moving close with expectation, then twisting away immediately, the chemicals racing to soothe the sharp sting. It seemed as if it would go on forever, and Eva quickly lost herself to it, the edges beginning to feel fuzzy. Her world had narrowed to just her, the crop, and the woman in control of it.

She almost considered rutting against the pillows, partly for relief and partly for the blow she knew would come after, but she was still. Her clit strained against the pillows, rubbed against them with each impact but it wasn’t the same. Just short, quick brushes against the pillowcase before it was over. She wanted to be good, take whatever came without complaint and wait patiently for the hot touches afterwards, the quick movements inside her, the embarrassing speed at which she came.

Her arms ached where they pressed against the bed, sweat dripped from her brow and down her thighs, Eva was almost floating, transcending the pain. She must have gone quiet because Yulia was leaning down by her face, brushing sweaty bangs out of her forehead.

“Doing alright, dear heart?” She asked.

Eva tried to move her lips but all that came out was an “mmm”. She nodded weakly instead. Yulia smiled, fingers still carding through her hair, and Eva leant into the touch without thinking.

“Want the paddle, or are you done?”

Eva nodded at the former, and then again when Yulia asked to confirm. The paddle was her favorite. The surface was wide and flat, it hurt far less than the crop, a way to wind down a bit without moving back to the hand. Instead of a sting, it was a larger blow, a hit, a dull thunk.

She gasped for air at the first hit, feeling the heavy wood for the first time that night. Yulia gave ample time to prepare for each blow, she wasn’t aiming to be unpredictable now. Eva rocked with the pattern; backwards before the hit, forwards after, rubbing against the pillow ever so slightly as she did.

This part never lasted long, so close to the end. Eva was completely out of her head now, just warm, and slightly numb, ready to be fucked. After the tenth hit, Yulia placed the paddle back with the crop and knelt onto the bed behind Eva.

“Look at you, you poor thing,” Yulia cooed as she rubbed gently over the red marks, then used both hands to spread Eva’s cheeks apart, further revealing her sex.

Yulia’s hand teased across her inner thighs, rubbing along the sides of her pussy without touching where she knew Eva wanted her. It was a silly game, both of them knowing it would end the same way it always did, but there was something enthralling about the tension, pulling just tight enough to be fully taut, but not snap.

Eva kicked her foot gently on the bed, her way of saying to get on with it. Yulia chuckled again, warm, and throaty.

“Something you want to say?”

Eva grumbled, enjoying the boneless feeling too much to try to articulate. But Yulia acquiesced after a few more moments, rubbing the pads of her gloves between Eva’s long folds, the meeting of her wetness against the gloves was audible, and Eva moaned. She could have sunk down on Yulia’s fingers right then, but the position put her at a disadvantage and Yulia had already moved on, wet fingers pressing down firmly just above her clitoris and rubbing gently back and forth.

Eva pushed her hips down into the delicious pressure, finally feeling something substantial. Yulia’s movements were small, she was used to this and so was Eva, hips bucking down before Yulia withdrew her hand entirely.

Eva hadn’t the presence of mind to be irritated, and even so, Yulia was in control here. She’d decide when Eva would come, and she wouldn’t come a moment before then. There was peace in that. Just as she’d settled, though, Yulia breached her with a single finger and Eva nearly sobbed. It was nowhere near filling, she was so wound up, but it was something at last.

She clenched around the gloved finger, desperately fucking against it before she realized Yulia wasn’t moving at all. Eva didn’t need to turn her head to see Yulia smirking, she knew well what that looked like. Nevertheless, she hadn’t pulled out. Eva was free to use what little freedom she’d been given, and she did.

Thrusting back against Yulia’s finger shakily, Eva moved her thighs together, trying to put pressure on her clit once again but it just wasn’t enough, she was desperate. Eva wasn’t bound, she could use her arms, but they’d been trapped underneath her for so long and she felt so limp, the effort she would need to exert to actually push a hand underneath her hips to grind against was far too much, and so she continued to put on her lewd display.

Yulia’s breath quickened, and Eva knew she was doing well. It was rare that Yulia wanted to be touched, but it was enough for Eva just knowing how much she turned the other woman on. She clenched just once more on the downstroke and Yulia huffed, pulled out, and before Eva had the chance to mourn the loss it was replaced with two fingers, curling inside her and then she was crying out in earnest.

The fingers inside twisted and scissored her open, although she didn’t need much assistance. The twisting motion was heavenly, just the feeling of the movement inside her was blissful. Yulia added a third finger, and then a fourth, moving in and out with the motion of Eva’s hips.

Hot tears spilled down Eva’s cheeks, mingling with the sweat as she moaned, words far beyond her. There were other times they made love where Eva talked, dirty or conversationally, but when they fucked like this, she was so desperate with need there was nothing she could say, only show with her body.

Yulia stroked her back gently with her free hand, broad strokes up and down, the touch reminding her somehow of an embrace, a safe feeling.

It didn’t take long for Eva to come like that, already someone who came faster than average, and with a twist of Yulia’s wrist she yelled out, legs shaking wildly as she fully collapsed against the pillows, muscles spasming around Yulia’s fingers, back arching even as she lay on her stomach.

Both were still for a moment, catching their breath. Yulia removed her hand from Eva, and then took off her glove before touching her back, no barrier between them. Her fingers skated over warm flesh once again, rubbing her thumb here and there where the marks must have looked worse.

Yulia didn’t hit terribly hard, but it was important to assess the damage, and Eva wouldn’t be moving anytime soon as it was. She murmured sweetly as Eva lay there, though she couldn’t discern the words, head still clouded with the endorphins.

Eva wasn’t sure how much time passed, but then Yulia was at her ear again, petting her hair sweetly as she had before.

“I’m going to get a few things and I’ll be back in a moment. Is that alright, my joy?”

“Yes,” Eva said, voice hoarse.

Yulia gave her another quick pat and was off. Eva dozed off while she was gone, though surely it had only been a few minutes. She woke as ice wrapped in rags were being placed on her ass, and she relished the cool feeling. Bruising was inevitable, but the ice did help. A damp rag wiped down her back and between, and a softer cloth pressed against her face.

Sometimes Eva thought Yulia enjoying this part more than the sex, she knew the woman took pride in taking care of lovers. Face wiped clean; Eva looked to see two glasses of water on the bedside table and moved to reach for one.

“Ah, careful!” Yulia said, “I’ll get it for you, don’t worry. Here, tilt your head up.”

Eva drank greedily from the glass, spilling water on her freshly cleaned face, but it was no matter. She gulped the second glass down just as quickly. Yulia beamed down at her and Eva had to look away, her expression too bright.

“Let’s get your arms stretched out,” Yulia said, gently easing Eva’s arms out from where they’d been folded beneath her. “There we go, much better.”

Her arms hadn’t quite gone numb, but pins and needles raced down her veins as the blood flowed back into her hands. Yulia gently massaged up and down her arms, easing the sensation.

“You don’t have to do everything,” Eva mumbled.

Yulia smiled down at her, bent down to press a kiss to the crown of Eva’s head, “Oh, but I want to.”

Eva let out a breathy laugh, “I’m only saying.”

Of course, she enjoyed the attention, but it seemed rude somehow to let herself be pampered like this, although Yulia insisted it wasn’t pampering, but necessary care, and besides, was there anything wrong with pampering her girlfriend?

“Oh, right, I brought in a pastry from the kitchen, you should have a few bites even if you don’t feel hungry.”

“Mmm, that sounds good.”

Eva would protest more, but it was frankly adorable to watch her partner transform into a mother hen, bustling about her and feeding her bites of pastry off a fork. They talked as Eva ate, until she felt like sitting up and moving to the armchair across the room as Yulia stripped and then remade the bed with fresh sheets.

Laying back down on the fresh sheets was wonderful, and while she hadn’t technically had a bath, Eva felt clean and luxuriated in it. Yulia was still busying herself, trying to get away with a third refill of water before Eva tugged on her sleeve.

“Cuddle?” She asked and gave a look Yulia couldn’t refuse.

“Alright,” she sighed, “if you’re certain there isn’t anything else you need.”

Eva rolled her eyes, “I need you to come lay down with me. And take that shirt off already while you’re at it.”

Yulia laughed, “Anything for you, dove.”

When Yulia finally slid into bed, Eva clung to her like a lichen, arms and legs wrapped around the woman before she was even fully settled. Her head resting above Yulia’s heart, Eva felt at peace, completely content.

“Love you,” Eva mumbled, and fell asleep before she could hear Yulia’s reply.

I DEMAND VLAD JR GETTING FUCKING WRECKED. JUST ABSOLUTELY DOMINATED. I WILL MARRY U IF U DO

hi op, it’s an art fill here! link (“https://i.imgur.com/QHgOuKB.jpg/”)
(Apologies that all i can muster right now is a rough sketch; I was meant to go to sleep an hour ago but this prompt grabbed at me like a man possessed)

hell yeah!!!

OH this is amazing! Bend that Andrey, Eva! And the cute little chibi aftercare! <3 very nice expressions, very hot, not op but thank you for filling it!

they're old they're sexy and sweet af. i love them so much but also i need more trans headcanons in pathologic (like, yeah, there's dannil and andrey, but what about SASHA)
so!!!
fluff, lots of kisses, maybe oral and of course aftercare. please please i'm nothing

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Page 15 of 16

Pathologic Kink Meme!

Newest Activity!

var/artemy I know what organ I want from var

[FILL] Daniil/Andrey, gags (1/2)

[FILL] Daniil/Andrey, gags (2/2)

Re: Yulia/any woman - bondage as geography - FILL

Re: Yulia/any woman - bondage as geography - FILL Pt. 2

Re: artemy/daniil - morning wood + embarrassment

vampire!daniil/artemy (1/2)

Re: vampire!daniil/artemy (1/2)

Re: vampire!daniil/artemy (1/2)

vampire!daniil/artemy (2/2)

Re: vampire!daniil/artemy (2/2)

silly smut time!

maria/eva pegging

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Re: Saburov/Katerina body worship FILL (2/2)

Re: Lara/Aspity: taking care - FILL Pt. 1

Re: Lara/Aspity: taking care - FILL Pt. 2

artemy/daniil - cumplay

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MORE VLAD JR FEMDOM

Re: Andrey/Eva, pegging

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Re: Andrey/Eva, pegging

trans!saburov/victor