Sovershennaya, Perfect
RECOMMENDED TRACK: Hozier – Take Me To Church
The walk was twelve minutes, I think. Or twelve hours maybe.
I did not check, because I was too busy looking at Emma and then trying not to, because every time she bit her lower lip or looked back at me out of the corner of her eye, I wanted to press her against the nearest wall to kiss her, which I had done several times, and if I kept doing it we would never reach her apartment.
By the time we climbed the stairs of her boxy gray building, I thought I might die of want.
But when she opened the door and flicked on a dim hallway light, I could not help taking in the image of the place she lived. I toed my sneakers off and stepped further inside as she untied her boots.
It was small. One room, more or less. Little kitchen with a dining table, half-hidden from the entryway behind a wall. Couch, coffee table, and television. An armchair in a corner, surrounded by fully-stuffed bookshelves topped with candles—not the scented kind, the little kind just for light.
Books sat on almost every surface, weighty tomes and cheesy paperbacks. Vinyl records, too, scattered with no particular rhyme or reason. There was a little decoration, blue lace curtains on the windows, Muse and Klimt and The Shining vying for dominance as posters on one wall. A little black cat figure on one shelf, some Disney villain glowering at me in cookie jar form in the kitchen.
It was cluttered. Eclectic. It felt like her.
“I told you it was small,” she said, stepping into place beside me, raising a hand to fidget with her ear again. “And kind of a mess…” I snorted and turned to face her directly.
“Emma. I live in a frat house. This is not a mess,” I said firmly, reaching out to take her fidgeting hand in mine. “It is life. It is you. And right now?” I held her hand over my heart as she looked up at me. “It’s sovershennaya. Perfect.” I moved in closer to her, nudging her chin up with my other hand so she would look at me.
She glanced at my lips again, then swallowed. “I wasn’t planning on…having you over,” she said, hesitantly. “I actually decided I wouldn’t do this before I met up with you.”
I felt a bubble of panic fly to the top of my stomach. Maybe the moment had passed. Maybe she had thought better of this thing. Maybe I would have to leave without…not without getting laid, that was easy. But to leave without feeding whatever hunger this was, the one that was just for her?
“I told you before, what my friends said, what I was thinking.” She continued, squeezing my hand with hers. “But I wanted to know what it sounded like for someone like you to play piano. So I decided I’d go, and that I’d say no to anything else.”
My brain could sense her winding up to a but, but my chest still pulsed with dread. The heart is a funny thing.
“I already knew you were…you know. Gorgeous,” she said, pulling my hand away from my thumping heart and holding it up to the light, just looking at it. Stretched my fingers out. Admired them. She was going to kill me. “But I didn’t expect this impossibly beautiful man to play impossibly beautiful music. And when you did, I thought…I thought, ‘I’m doomed, in the most impossibly beautiful way.’” She looked up at me then, her expression eager and nervous at the same time. Like the little conflicting voices she had mentioned.
I dropped my other hand to her waist, pulling her close enough to set my forehead against hers again. “Is that what you were thinking then? When you were playing hide-and-seek?” I said, adding a tiny teasing lilt to the words. Anything to make this feel less serious, less heavy.
She nodded and followed me right into that lighter place. “My only options were to melt down or jump your bones as soon as you finished the last note,” she said with a wry smile. “Totally, completely doomed.”
I laughed, a coarse huff, and stroked her cheek with my thumb, letting my other slide down to her hip. “Doomed,” I agreed, my head dipping in a nod. I wanted to tell her I had spent three years determined to build nothing, and she had walked into a basement and made me want to build her a real castle, all in one night. I resisted. Too much again. Instead, I pulled her flush against me, letting her feel every inch of how much I wanted her. “Now tell me how you wish to be praised and spoiled.”
Her big brown eyes darted away from me as she flushed all over again. “I don’t really know,” she admitted. “I’ve never told that stuff to anyone I actually wanted to…” She lifted her eyebrows meaningfully as she looked back up at me.
“Never?” I said, squeezing her hip tighter than I meant to.
She shook her head. “Never,” she said, and then stood on her tiptoes to claim my lips while I tried to not to growl into her mouth as we kissed again, softer than before, slower.
Never. Bozhe moy. She was killing me. I might enjoy dying.
After a minute, she leaned back and I grunted in complaint at the distance. “Maybe you could…” She trailed off, fidgeting with the sleeve of my shirt.
“I could,” I groaned, pulling her closer again. “Right now? I could. Whatever it is. Tell me.”
“Could you…carry me to the bed?” She asked.
I was bending to hook my arm behind her knees before she even got to the last syllable, which ended in a tiny yelp of surprise. I cradled her against my chest easily, and silently thanked past me for spending so much time at the gym. “As my queen commands,” I said, kissing her temple to stall just long enough to find a clear path to the bed.
I laid her carefully on the disheveled covers, making sure to tug her hair over her shoulder before I joined her. I braced myself on my forearms over her and kissed her again, stroking her tongue with mine slow and deep before pulling back to peck my way to her ear. She rewarded me with a shiver. “Comfortable?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she breathed, snaking her arms around me. “Sorry, I just…don’t know what to ask for.”
“Nyet.” I nipped her ear, just hard enough for her to let out a little squeak that made me roll my hips against her. “You do not apologize. You do not ask for anything. Unless you want to,” I said. Devotion, I had no experience with. But spoiling? That I would do, with pleasure. I tapped her nose. “You lay here and let me treat you like my queen, moya koroleva,” I told her. “No listening to those little voices of yours. Just mine.”
She bit her lip, then nodded. “Right,” she said, exhaling. “Okay.”
“Good girl,” I murmured. I watched her eyes flicker and her cheeks burn redder at the phrase. “…Very good.” I slid my hand under the bottom of her tank top, over her stomach, and began tugging the garment up. She lifted her arms readily and I pulled it over her head, the little built-in bra part coming with it and freeing two of the most perfect tits I have ever had the pleasure of seeing, soft,round, and eager. “Maybe we start here,” I murmured. “Good?”
She nodded again and I cupped them gently, gliding my thumbs over nipples already stiff and peaked. I hummed as I wrapped my tongue around one and felt her breath hitch as I flicked the other, rolling it between my thumb and forefinger. I began to chart her reactions in real time, taking note of the movements that made her breath hitch, the ones that made her press harder against me, the way she gripped the back of my shirt as I switched from one breast to the other. “Misha…”
“Mmm?” I said, not pausing, but looking up at her so she would know I was listening. Ha, her face was so red.
She tugged at the back of my shirt again. “Would you maybe take this off?”
“’Maybe,’ she says,” I chuckled, sitting up to pull my henley over my head and toss it over my shoulder. I watched as her eyes took me in. She had seen me shirtless at the party, but she was looking with new eyes that drifted over the tattoo at my hip—”БУНТ,” rebellion. My first teenage act of defiance against my father and I still put it somewhere I could hide it. I do not know if she knew what it meant, but at that moment it was not my biggest concern.
I lay back down above her, reveling in the sensation of our skin pressed together, warm and soft. She tangled one hand in my hair and I had a flash of inspiration as I was kissing her collarbone. “Here,” I said, putting my hand over hers. “This is my leash for tonight. You do not have to say anything if you do not want, okay? Just pull and push me where you want me to go. Higher, lower. Further, closer…I hope mostly closer.” She nodded and I felt her relax a little as I kissed my way down her chest, stopping to lave each of her breasts with my tongue again. She nudged my head downward and I began working my way down her stomach. “Good girl,” I muttered against her stomach. Her fingers tightened in my hair and I resisted the urge to groan.
When I reached her belly button, I nuzzled into it while I began tugging her pants down, taking her panties with them. She lifted her hips dutifully and I pulled them off and dropped them to the floor. I sat back up and devoured the sight of her body laid bare, all soft curves and flushed skin. I lifted her leg to kiss the arch of her foot, and that’s when I saw it.
She had a tattoo, too.
It was a lace design, hugging her thigh like a garter. When I kissed my way up her leg to see it closer, I saw the lace consisted of artfully designed words: “I’d rather be the way I was born than anything else in the whole world.” I kissed the design on my way up her thigh. “I like this very much, moya koroleva.”
“Mmm?” She asked, returning her hand to my hair. “Oh, the tattoo?”
“Mmmhmm. It is lovely.” I sucked a bit of her flesh into my mouth, hard enough that when I released it left a little purple bloom beneath the word anything, like an underline I wanted her to feel the next day. “Like you.” I kissed my way up to the heat between her legs, nuzzling there, too.
Her legs stiffened and I rubbed her thigh reassuringly with one hand as I parted her folds with the other. She was so wet it made my mouth water. I inhaled her deeply before taking an experimental lick, dragging my tongue from the bottom of her entrance to the top of her clit as she whimpered, keening for more as her fingers twisted in my hair, tugging me closer.
I will never understand men who do not enjoy this part.
I teased the little button again, circling it once, twice, and then pulling back. That hand in my hair, she finally used it with some force, pushing me back towards her and I grinned, taking that as a green light to dive in. I began to work her in earnest, exploring the inside of her cunt and massaging her g-spot with the tip of my tongue before switching back to the nub above it.
And, bozhe moy, her voice as I did it was its own kind of music, a melody of needy hums punctuated by a deeply satisfying gasp when I slid my middle finger inside her and curled it upward. Her thighs were slung over my shoulders and I felt her heels dig into my back. Her other hand joined the first in my hair as I feasted, grounding herself to me, or me to her, I was not sure which. “You taste so good,” I growled, slipping another finger in with the first.
I was enjoying myself playing with different moves, seeing all the different sounds I could elicit from her. But when she began to flutter around my finger, I stopped experimenting, keeping my rhythm until she cried out—”Mi-Misha-ah-ahhh!” She arched on a gasp and then began to twist beneath me. I slowed but kept going, did not stop until she finally pushed my head away, too sensitive to continue.
I pulled back and indulged myself watching her shiver and pant with no small sense of pride. I had seen many women from this angle, but on her, the full-body flush and the eyes glazed with afterglow, they felt new. Earned, but in a different way.
As her breathing returned to normal, I pressed one more kiss to her folds—provoking another sharp spasm—and climbed back up her body. “You are so fucking pretty when you come,” I told her, pressing my lips to her cheek, her eyes still closed. “My pretty queen. You are okay?”
She wrapped her arms around my neck and nodded with another little sound that had me rocking against her again, my skin rubbing against rough denim when it desperately wanted to feel her softness instead.
“More?”
Her eyes opened and met mine with an almost helpless nod. “More,” she agreed in a husky voice.
I sat back on my knees and unzipped my jeans, tugging them down with my boxer-briefs and hissing when my cock finally sprung free. I went to settle back over her and paused when I saw her eyes registering it.
I’d forgotten to warn her about the piercing.
Piercings.
“They should not hurt. But I can take them out,” I said hurriedly, snatching a condom out of my back pocket before shoving my pants the rest of the way off and throwing them on the floor. “They’re supposed to—”
“Can I touch them?”
My head swiveled to her. She was sitting up, leaning forward, her head tilted curiously. I felt the tension in my shoulders release immediately. “Yes,” I said. “Bozhe, yes, please touch them.” I crawled forward and took her hand in mine, wrapping it around the shaft.
I have a ladder of six modestly-sized barbells pierced through my frenum, and she ran her thumb tenderly over each in turn, my cock twitching eagerly in her hand. “You said they’re supposed to—what?” She prompted, leaning in close enough I could feel her breath and it quivered again.
“To—to feel good,” I rasped. “Like being ribbed for the queen’s pleasure.”
She giggled and looked up at me, infinitely more relaxed than before. Even as I felt ready to combust. “I guess I’ll find out,” she said, giving me a gentle tug.
I groaned and let myself fall forward, pressing her back into the bed with another soft kiss. “You will tell me if it feels anything less than amazing,” I instructed, settling between her legs. “I will fix it or I will die trying.”
“No dying in my bed,” she retorted.
“Only la petite mort,” I promised, and I think she would have liked the literary reference except that she was reaching for my hand, the one holding the condom.
“I have an IUD,” she said quietly, looking steadily at our hands instead of at me. “If you want to use it, that’s fine, but…you don’t have to.”
Blyat. Unholy fucking hell. She had no idea what she was doing to me.
I had many desires that I buried under easy, good, gone. Among them? Praise, spoiling, devotion, yes. But another, more dangerous one, too.
Permanence.
Leaving something behind that could not be taken away.
And that desire snapped awake at her offer, IUD or not.
“You really will kill me,” I rumbled, tossing the package aside and getting into position, gripping my shaft to tease at her entrance. She squirmed with a needy whimper. I took a deep breath and began to push inside.
I went slow, trying to focus on her pleasure, though she let out a mewl that almost made me lose control. But god help me, I held steady until I was fully seated.
Sovershennaya. She felt perfect wrapped around me like that. Nothing between us, just her body yielding, soft and sweet. I had to take a second to get a grip with my face buried in her neck, breathing in that sweet smell of hers, her arms grasping at me as her silky walls embraced me tightly. I took another ragged breath and kissed her neck until I had mastered myself again. “Good?”
She kissed my ear with a nod in response, and I began to move, slow, deliberate thrusts. I refused to hurry, even when she ground up against me, the universal signal of harder, faster, deeper.
“Slow going, koroleva,” I said, gritting my teeth. “You cannot rush being spoiled.” Tempting though it was.
“Hnnn…” She whined almost petulantly and I sucked her lower lip between mine to keep from growling for the hundredth time. “Misha,” she keened, digging her fingers into my back. “Misha, it’s—” She broke off as I circled my hips to find the angle that would make her break. “—Perfect,” she choked out once I found it. Her whole body clenched around me as I swallowed her moans with another kiss before pulling back, panting.
“You cannot say ‘perfect’ to me and expect this to last,” I complained, but not really. “Is not a fair fight.”
Her arms tightened around me, and her legs too, pulling me back into her as she rolled her hips up. “This isn’t a fight,” she chided, then stopped to cry out as I tilted myself just so. “It’s…it’s a duet,” she said hoarsely. “Fuck, Misha…”
“You think I am not fighting here? To hold back when you feel so fucking good?” I said, emphasizing the words with every movement. I kept driving into her and slipped my hand between us to grind against her clit with each stroke.
Her music shifted from melodic to staccato, a half-gasp, half-trill of pleasure every time my cock pressed against that one perfect spot. She was a symphony that was building in my ears and coiling in my belly. As she began to tremble around me, I knew I wasn’t going to last much longer, either. “Konchay, Emma, come for me again if you can,” I said, the words half-command and half-plea. “I want to feel you, please, pozhaluysta…”
“Yes,” she warbled. “Yes, Misha, I want to—I’m close…”
I barely resisted the urge to pound faster, but blyat, it was a close thing because I was hanging on by a thread. When, at last, she began to convulse, I managed maybe two thrusts before I joined her on the other side of ecstasy, pouring myself into her with a long, rough moan while she thrashed. I did my best to still for her through my own spasms, slumping onto one forearm so I didn’t crush her.
Instead, I lay my forehead on her shoulder and when she started to come down, she carded one hand through my hair, each of us silently assuring the other I’m still here as we heaved with exertion.
We stayed like that for a minute before she shifted beneath me. I slid my arms around her waist and rolled us onto our sides, stubbornly refusing to pull out even though I was finally starting to slacken. I opened my eyes and took her in, sweaty, hair messy, cheeks burning pink.
With anyone else, I would have said something clever. Cheeky. Something that set the stage for a quick departure, either then or perhaps after sleeping, if I was tired. I had a whole filing cabinet in my brain of these lines.
But with her, I said: “You are so beautiful, it almost makes me angry.” And then I kissed her nose.
She exhaled with a fatigued laugh and nuzzled my nose in return. “Look who’s talking, Mister National Treasure Eyes,” she said, tracing my lips with her index finger. “This is such a nice dream,” she hummed. “I don’t want to wake up yet,” she said, burying herself in my chest.
I held her close and glanced around her little apartment, with all its books and candles and life. So different from the marble mausoleum I would one day return to in Moscow.
I wanted to stay in this space, this moment, so badly I ached. “Then sleep, like Spyashchaya Krasavitsa. Like Sleeping Beauty,” I murmured into her hair. “And the kingdom will sleep with you.”
Bonus Content:
Emma’s Castle
Author’s Note
B-Side Track: Nine Inch Nails – Closer
You all KNEW the main chapter track was gonna be “Take Me To Church,” right?
FUN FACT:
Okay, not a fun fact, but just a reminder this is a romantic fantasy. Regardless of whether you or your partner has a storied past like Misha’s, safe sex is crucial not just for avoiding pregnancy but for staying safe from STIs. Condom up.
Emma’s apartment being afforded even with parental support and her job (more on that later) is also a fantasy. (No roommates? In this economy!?)
So our lovebirds are together, but there are quite a few chapters left to go…I wonder why 🤔