It’s either late in the evening or early in the morning when Fyodor hears bare footsteps approaching her. Few people are allowed to access her office when she’s working and even fewer can actually gain access, so she knows exactly whose footsteps these are.
“Nikolai.” She states.
“Hehe~” Is her answer. The white-haired woman has found herself in another mood again.
“If you’re dragging blood across the floor I expect you to clean it up.” Fyodor says over the clicking of her keyboard.
The presence finds its way beside her. After a few moments Fyodor realizes that Nikolai wants her to look at her. Does she not realize that she’s working? What’s the time… 5AM. So she must be back from her own mission and, with nothing else to do, come to bother Fyodor. There are countless members involved in Decay of Angels but somehow Fyodor finds herself the target of this jester’s charades more often than not.
She squeezes her eyes shut, enjoying the rumbling in her ears. Her eyes leak out of joy, reprieve from the screen. She leans back into her chair and looks up at the other woman.
“Ta-daah!” Nikolai’s cloak is whipped outward like a swan flapping its wings. Though what is revealed is not a series of pure feathers, sorted in the perfect beauty of God’s creation, but rather-
“Your penis.” Fyodor regards the organ with only a slight change of expression. One Nikolai surely notices, for the other woman is nothing if not observant, and yet she remains revealed to her. Somewhere, behind that and the soft curls of white hairs, Nikolai’s vagina is there, too. Mm.
The offending appendage bobs almost comically as Nikolai shifts her stance to stand with one foot behind the other, crossing her legs. Fyodor knows she does this when she plans on standing in one spot for a long time. ‘Long time’ being a relative term. The braided woman never stays in one place. Fyodor looks back up to her face. “What do you expect me to do about it?”
Nikolai’s smile is like a river half-frozen with creases and curves in the wrong places. The face it’s on is also very red and getting redder by the minute. She breathes in as if to speak but all that comes out is a tense exhale. Fyodor’s face does not betray how cute she thinks Nikolai looks when she’s unsure, nervous, perhaps even vulnerable. She brings that out of her.
But what she doesn’t bring out is yielding.
“You know-” Fyodor turns around in her chair and back to the screen. “-I’m not going to debase myself like that. Especially now. I’m busy.” She must drive it home a little, lest Nikolai try to find a way to weasel past her words. And it’s true- Fyodor does not simply open her mouth for things to go in and out of. She doesn’t think Nikolai’s groin has been anywhere near her mouth. Lips, cheeks, ears, neck, shoulders, breasts, hips, thighs, legs: all are quite familiar on her tongue. But her penis or vagina? Fyodor’s hands are better acquainted.
Could it be that Nikolai is feeling frustrated? She should go find someone else, then, she’s more than capable. Fyodor doesn’t consider herself to be a fantastic judge of attraction but, in her opinion, there are plenty of women who would want to spend a night with Nikolai. In spite of her eccentricities (or perhaps alongside them?) Nikolai is strong, attentive, and has a peculiar sense of admiration during intimacy. She has her… moments during, yes, but it’s nothing Fyodor hasn’t been able to snap her out of.
Then again, not everyone has a life-threatening ability that can be activated with less than a touch.
“You’re still here.” She states.
The cloak has been lowered, wrapped around Nikolai’s body like a blanket. “You don’t have to do anything today. I’ll go under the desk!” Without waiting for a response, Nikolai squeezes herself under Fyodor’s desk. Possibly with some help of The Overcoat- she’s a tall, muscular woman, and the space between Fyodor and her desk isn’t generous. Overcoat or no, the intrusion makes Fyodor shift and push her chair back, the sound of wood on wood unceremoniously breaking through the air. Nikolai quite happily settles her head between Fyodor’s legs. That little hat of hers is nowhere to be seen, probably tossed into the ether of The Overcoat.
Fyodor sighs. Is this really it? Working on her plan for the world while her subordinate does God knows what beneath her?
Nikolai leans her head against her thigh, looking up at her through lowered lashes.
This is it.
“Fine.”
—
To be honest, Nikolai herself doesn’t know what possessed her to do this. She doesn’t think too hard about it. The mere fact that she can do this, that she’s able to do anything like this, is enough for her to lose herself. She isn’t a beast controlled by basic impulses, no no, but she is herself, free from herself. And she’s never enjoyed being free of herself as much as she is with Dos-chan.
She relaxes beneath the black-haired woman, trying her best to settle into a comfortable position. Comfortable being a relative term while squeezed between Fyodor and her desk.
But isn’t this exciting? Like a little secret: contact between herself and the woman with the angel-touch. Before, another time during this loss within desire, Fyodor had placed her fingers on Nikolai’s scalp- one, two, three, four, five, like tapping the table- and pushed down against her skull and she felt like there was nothing else except for them and the cage. Maybe that’s all it’s ever been. She just couldn’t see it until she had found her other self trapped inside Fyodor.
Fingers made nimble from years of sleight-of-hand make quick work of Fyodor’s pants, unbuttoning and unzipping. At first she simply curls her fingers under the band of Fyodor’s underwear, feeling the coarse hairs underneath. The patch starts to peak out of the top in a stark difference against Fyodor’s pale skin. So sickly, so unwell, so perfect for Nikolai.
Fyodor sighs briefly. She lifts her lower half up, allowing Nikolai to pull her clothes down. For a moment she hesitates, as if the fact she would have to sit naked on her chair hadn’t occurred to her, but settles herself and quickly returns to her work. How she can be to blase about her body is a mystery to Nikolai- to her there’s nothing more deserving of- of- …
Ah, she wants her in her mouth. Nikolai presses kisses up along her thighs as she touches herself with her hand. She isn’t sure where to touch, so her hand switches between rubbing her thumb over the head of her cock and curling her fingers over her pussy lips. Even without touching herself she knows how wet she is- did Fyodor notice? Is it painted over her thighs? What does Dos-chan do when she touches herself? Does she even do it? As beautiful as she is, Nikolai has a hard time imagining it. Ah, but doesn’t that mean the only time she feels pleasure is with Nikolai? That this maniacal woman is the only one…
Fyodor’s dick lifts when her other hand brushes over it, just a little. The rat king requires some effort to become aroused, unlike someone else in the room. If Nikolai was a lesser woman she would be embarrassed by how easily she can get turned on, especially compared to Fyodor. But to feel like that would be ridiculous. It’s because of this absurdly high drive (which, she might point out, only began to rear its head after she met the woman) that she has the motivation to make Fyodor share her feelings, if only just for a moment. Feeling shame in the face of lust! What a joke! It’s not even a funny one, so, even worse, it’s a waste of a joke.
She gathers the spit and the tip of her tongue and lets it slip off, drizzling her dear Dos-chan’s cock in her spit. The black-haired woman hardly stirs- at least not until Nikolai feels her leg tense when her tongue follows that same path. She slowly, almost carefully, follows the erratic pattern she had made, warmth meeting warmth. She strokes herself the same way, slowly, from the tip- down to where the hair begins to creep up- and back again. When she’s finally hard enough to take into her mouth Nikolai moans. She fits so perfectly, so fully inside her mouth.
She needs her to be inside her.
But for now she eases the woman’s cock in and out of her mouth, resting the weight on her tongue and she knows Fyodor’s heavy exhale is from the drag of skin against muscle. One slow drag and she lets it out of her mouth. She can’t help the satisfaction when it bounces up erect in front of her. With wet lips Nikolai presses foolish kisses onto it.
“What are you doing now?” Fyodor asks above her. If Nikolai were anywhere in the room but beneath the desk, she would think that the change in the other woman’s voice would be from exhaustion. It probably is, partly.
“Kissing you.” Nikolai smiles, flicking her tongue out within the kisses to tease a reaction out of her- she gets a squirm for her troubles. “Is it good? Does it feel good?”
“...Yes.”
Oh! How just one word- spoken with such a heavy voice- shoots straight through her ear and down into her groin, twisting all her nerves in arousal as it goes. It’s difficult for her to push the right pressure against her cock with her hands preoccupied with herself but how could she be blamed? Bodies like hers- like Fyodor’s- are perfect for living, for feeling, so Nikolai would be a hypocrite to not reward her own. Modesty? Hah! She turns three fingers inside her pussy and feels the softness inside as her other hand strokes her cock.
A hand, cold and calloused, reaches beneath the desk and combs through the mess of white that is Nikolai’s hair and God! God is here and rubbing her fingertips into Nikolai’s scalp as she sucks her off! The giggle that bubbles up from within her is halfway between joyous and scandalous.
“Keep going.” Fyodor pulls her head closer, using her other hand to guide the tip of her dick inside Nikolai’s mouth. She leans back in her chair at such an angle that Nikolai can’t see her but she knows that she can see Nikolai. She has her eyes on her! Finally! The white-haired woman circles her tongue around the tip, wanting to make a scene for her to watch but Fyodor is more impatient than thought and she ends up with the head back in her mouth. “I said keep going. If you’re not going to listen to me then I won’t bother talking.”
Unable to speak, Nikolai can only groan in protest and try to shake her head. Don’t stop, don’t stop. Your voice is the only thing I want to hear for the rest of my life.
Fyodor inhales sharply. “Even with your mouth full… come on.” And Nikolai closes her eyes and lets Fyodor’s hand guide her head up and down, slowly, surely, as her love speaks sweet nothings. “You’re so noisy. Whether you’re underneath me or in the room next to me I can hear you panting like a bitch in heat… ah, did you like that? Careful. You’re doing well, it would be a shame if you choked yourself to death. Or- ngh- are you trying to do that? To meet the ‘little death’? I need you, just a bit longer, Nikolai, then you can do as you please. Whether that’s killing me or fucking me… one would be more enjoyable, but the other is far more tantalizing, don’t you think?”
Nikolai makes a wet, shameful sound as her nose is buried in Fyodor’s lower hairs. Her throat spasms around the intrusion, trying to swallow and push at the same time, trying to make her cough and only succeeding in making tears well in her eyes. She can do this, she can, for her dear Fyodor, for herself, for the twisting knot inside her just threatening to snap.
The palm stays firmly pressed against her head while the fingers toy with her hair. Fyodor moans with pursed lips above her, censoring whatever filthy words tried to escape. And then-
“Are you thinking of it now? Are you going to try and kill me with my cock down your throat? Necrophilia’s a crime, you know.”
Another hand reaching down, stroking the back of her neck as two legs close in over her shoulders. She can’t tell if it’s hard to breathe from excitement or from air loss. Her moan is muffled.
“I could, yes.” Fyodor replies to nothing. “Would that be a greater freedom from pain? The dead feel nothing, not even Death’s parting kiss…”
Tears touch the other woman’s skin and only then does she allow Nikolai back up, releasing her from her body’s grasp. But not the hand in her hair. She lets Nikolai come back up slowly, forcing Nikolai to enjoy the raw drag against her throat as her body is finally allowed to relax. Her first breaths are more coughs than anything, hacking up spit against her arm. Fyodor is silent and motionless above her outside of pushing her chair back to watch her. Her throat stings, her jaw hurts, her limbs are cramping and she’s crying, crying!
She’s never been so turned on.
Fyodor stands and leans over, typing something into her computer and moving things around. Unable to summon the thinking power to process anything but the cock waving in her face, Nikolai pokes it this way and that. Hehe, it really is a silly thing, isn’t it? Sex, bodies. So beautiful and so simple. She glances down her own body, eyes wandering past her breasts and down her stomach- yes. Still very hard by the looks of things. And wet, by the feeling of it. She wonders carelessly if it was just the looming threat of death or the uncomfortable position that stopped her from cumming.
“Stop that.” Fyodor flicks her hand away. She sits back down on the chair. “Come here.”
She doesn’t need to be told twice. Nikolai crawls out from under the desk and uses the chair to pull herself up. She should feel something. Is controlled the right word? For a moment she feels a wave of nausea hit her and she wants to hide back inside The Overcoat, safe and hidden from the world. Fyodor can’t get in there, which means Fyodor can’t get in there. Win-lose. Ah, why is everything so difficult with this woman? Her most wretched friend.
“You have contraceptives hidden in that cloak of yours, I take it.”
“Yup!” Nikolai nods. “Just one little medicine and pop! No baby surprises!” She moves forward but is stopped by a very firm hand on her forehead.
“No.” Fyodor states dryly. “Condoms. I don’t want any mess in my room.”
Nikolai would say her room is already a mess but she’s not going to back-and-forth about such funny things now. She wiggles her fingers on her right hand and reaches behind Fyodor’s ear with her left and-! “One for you, one for me!”
Fyodor takes one. “Turn around and put it on.”
…shyness? Now? Oh well. Nikolai turns on her heels, her braid whipping around with her, and tears off the wrapper- hey! That’s her! She mirrors her own double-take as she watches herself on the screen of Fyodor’s computer. Ah, she was a fool for thinking Fyodor was turning it off! The little bars icon at the bottom of the screen has a big bright x marking it and the light beside the camera shines confidently in the semi-darkness of the room. Ah…
Nikolai wraps the condom over herself and feels two hands on her sides urging her to move back. Fyodor’s hands are only slightly warm against her bare skin as she starts to pull her down. Nikolai holds onto the side of the table in front of her for balance, her legs shaking from the position. Fyodor’s fingers brush over her skin, pushing her cloak further off. Nikolai twists the fabric around her left arm like a braid to make sure it stays out of the way-
“Ah-...”
Finally. Nikolai doesn’t hesitate to rub her pussy against Fyodor’s cock, smearing her juices over the smooth cover of the condom. The tip pushes in between her folds and rubs against her clit and fuck, she needs Fyodor inside her now. And Fyodor shares the opinion, holding her dick in position while Nikolai fills herself with her, taking deep breaths to relax herself around her length until finally finally she’s full.
A heavy, breathy sigh leaves her lips when she lets herself sit, her legs glad for the rest. Fyodor lets a breath out as well, tickling between Nikolai’s shoulder blades. What does it feel like to her? Because Nikolai can feel every twitch and clench of her pussy around her cock. It stings, she won’t lie, but she loves it, too.
“Is this enough for you?” Fyodor breathes out. “Because if it is, stay just like that.”
It is, it really, really is. (a part of Nikolai is worried that if she bounces on Fyodor’s lap she might hurt the waify woman). “Yes, yes.” She nods. “You’re missing out on the show!”
Fyodor hums behind her, though whether that’s a response or a sound of general satisfaction, she doesn’t know. She doesn’t care as she covers her hand in spit once more, making sure to turn her head far enough for dear Dos-chan to see behind her. Her tongue curls around her fingers, lathering spit where it doesn’t need to be but she decides it should be. When Fyodor turns her back around with her hands around her waist she’s more than happy to oblige, un-twisting her body as she wraps her hand around her member.
“Yes, that’s it…” Fyodor murmurs behind her. “You saw it, didn’t you? So observant, my Nikolai. You said something about a show? Come, lean back, show yourself off. Here, I’ll help-” Nikolai gasps when her head is tugged back by her braid, exposing her neck to the camera. “Good girl.” She shivers with Fyodor’s voice in her ear. “Do you like that? My good girl. So useful, so important, my Nikolai. Is there anyone else I can trust like you? I thought, if this was all a plan to kill me, you’d want it recorded. You’ve always given a good performance for the camera. Yes, you’re so good, so very, very good for me.”
Her body demands more. She needs- she needs, to feel Fyodor’s dick hitting her as deep as it can reach over and over, needs to hear what sounds she can fuck out of the woman underneath her. Moving her body up as well as she can with her hair pulled back, Nikolai can feel a touch of desire before she has to go back down again. “Fyodor…”
“And I thought you said this was enough.” She’s smiling, Nikolai knows she is. She can hear that sly smirk in her voice. Fyodor pulls her closer, pressing her lips against her ear almost like a kiss. “You’ve been so good so far, so I’ll let you go a little. Dear Nikolai, I know what you want. I want you to touch your pussy- listen to me-” Nikolai gasps when Fyodor yanks her braid back for daring to moan while she’s giving her orders, “-play with your clit while you fuck yourself on my lap. You can do that, yes?”
Nikolai swallows heavily. Yes, yes she can do that. “Yes… please.”
Fyodor lets go of her braid and it slithers from her palm. With one hand on the arm of the chair to balance herself, Nikolai reaches low to slip the slick from Fyodor’s dick onto her fingers and starts to rub her clit with her fingers. The reaction from her body hits them both and they moan breathlessly. She’s close, so close.
Her body moves by itself, sending a shock through her body each time Fyodor bottoms out inside her. Her fingers run across her hips and under her dick and almost freeze when she finally touches her poor, neglected clit. God, she’s wet. Her fingers slide across her nub, back and forth back and forth, like a woman possessed. Isn’t that what this is? Both of them, surrendering themselves into the control of- of-
“F- Fyo- uh- uhh! Fyodor!”
With one last pull of her hair, Nikolai’s head is tipped back to fall into pleasure. Her body of twitches and gasps must make such a wonderful sight as her pussy milks Fyodor’s dick inside her, not to mention her cock filling the condom with her cum. With her ear so close to the other’s mouth she hears, with fluttering joy in her chest, Fyodor’s shuddering gasp as she releases and oh how naked she sounds! How ridiculous! Pulling Nikolai’s hair like a chain when she’s so attached to Nikolai herself! That’s it, that must be it. Her dearest, most horrible one, so close to her heart, so weak as it is that it would be easy for even Fyodor to reach inside and crush it in her palm.
One of Fyodor’s hands appears on Nikolai’s front. It, white and veined, rests on her abdomen, just below her belly button. It shakes as it settles fingers-first over Nikolai’s skin, as if laying her hand down at once would frighten Nikolai away. They both breathe in deeply as their bodies remind them just how much effort things like this take.
Nikolai pulls her head back up and tries to stop it from lolling forward. In the reflection of the computer, she looks…
The hand is warm.
Fyodor wouldn’t need that. To pull apart Nikolai’s body, that is. Just a touch, Nikolai reminds herself. Just one soft, gentle caress, a simple motion, would be enough to hurt her heart. To hurt her.
And for that, this dear one, the one thing that understands her…
She stares into the camera.
“I’ll kill you.”
It stares into her.
“Good girl.”