Disclaimer: I don't own the Grisha Trilogy and its characters – it belongs to Leigh Bardugo. I do not own the Shadow & Bone TV series, which was developed by Eric Heisserer for Netflix and based on Leigh Bardugo's books.
This is a tennis AU where Alina is a tennis player and Aleksander (a former tennis player) is her coach. Alina is 19 and Aleksander is 39.
Warnings for power imbalance, given Aleksander is Alina's coach. However, she is enthusiastically consenting to everything they do
The Big Three are Nadal (21 Grand Slams), Federer (20 Grand Slams) and Djokovic (20 Grand Slams), and they have pretty much dominated men's tennis for over fifteen years. Going on their stats and imagining Aleksander having less competition, it doesn't seem unreasonable for him to have won 26 Grand Slams in his career.
"Up and coming sensation Alina Starkova triumphed today over world number one Zoya Nazyalensky in an incredibly exciting US Open final that ended with Starkova claiming her first Grand Slam title."
"And on her nineteenth birthday too! Talk about a present money can't buy."
"She's come out of relative obscurity and this was her first Grand Slam. It really has been remarkable to witness her journey."
"Well, commentators have noted that she's one to watch ever since Aleksander Morozov was announced as her new coach eight months ago. After all, you have to imagine that there's something special about a girl that twenty-six time Grand Slam champion Morozov has called 'remarkably talented' and 'destined to dominate women's tennis'."
The sound of the news playing on the TV is drowned out by Alina's gasps and moans.
She is once again thankful for the fact that Aleksander has a penthouse apartment in New York with excellent soundproofing. It would be exceedingly embarrassing for these sorts of sounds to be heard in a hotel, and that wasn't even considering all the scandal that would erupt when everyone realised exactly who was the cause of those sounds.
Aleksander's head is between her legs, his tongue doing things that make her light-headed and dizzy.
Her fingers grip his hair. She feels like if she lets go, she'll be entirely unmoored, floating away on a cloud of pleasure.
Four orgasms so far, his mouth and his fingers working in tandem to drive her entirely to distraction.
Alina is aching and over-sensitive, but he still persists, even when she isn't sure how much more she can take.
"Sasha, please," she whimpers, "it's too much."
He pulls back for a moment and she can see his face. Dark eyes. Beard glistening with her arousal. Devastatingly handsome as always. A devilish glint in his eyes.
"Ah, but we had a deal, malyshka," he reminds her, faux-innocent look on his face, "you were quite insistent about it if I remember correctly. If you won today then I was to give you enough orgasms to match the game difference between you and Nazyalensky. Now … what was the score again?"
"6-2, 6-4," she whispers.
"That's right. Twelve games for my little Alina, and six for Nazyalensky. Now, sweet girl, I believe that means six orgasms and, by my count, you're still two short."
Saints. She hadn't been anywhere near confident that she would win, and when she made that little wager with Aleksander she had expected the score to be much closer if she did manage to claim victory. Still, she knows well enough how he likes to draw things out and she should have expected that he would coax her orgasms from her slowly, taking his time.
This is what she gets for betting with Aleksander. He never, ever makes a wager that he won't benefit from.
"What about a break?" she flutters her eyelashes at him, trying to mimic the looks she always sees Zoya directing at Nikolai.
Maybe if she has a bit of a rest, Alina thinks, she might actually end this evening as something other than a boneless mess.
Aleksander gives her a wicked little grin, hands gripping her waist as helps her sit up. Her hope that he might let her just flop back against the pillows is lost when he arranges her on his lap so that she is straddling one of his thighs, the fabric of his trousers rubbing deliciously against her core.
"Aleksander," she whines, rocking her hips automatically, chasing after the little sparks of pleasure even though she's sore, "you don't play fair."
He leans down to kiss her quickly, "of course not," he tells her, "I play to win, sweet girl."
Pouting, Alina reaches down to cup the bulge in his trousers, hoping to distract him, but he knocks her hand away and tsks at her.
"I'll take care of it later, malyshka. Remember what I said, none of that until you've had your final appointment with Genya."
It was something he'd been clear on since the moment he first approached her with a view to becoming her new coach. No boyfriends (or girlfriends), no sex, no drugs, no drinking – he was confident he could turn her into a champion to surpass the records set by the likes of Baghra Morozova (his terrifying mother) and Elizaveta Nikolayeva, but he insisted that she had to be totally committed.
Then, when they had started whatever this was between them two months ago (because naturally he is the only exception to all of his rules about dating and sex), he had insisted that she see Genya Safina to have her birth control regime assessed.
If Genya had any idea of exactly why a young tennis player with very little free time and no partner would want to be so rigorous about her birth control, she never spoke of it to Alina apart from a brief, cryptic warning to beware of powerful men.
(Alina wanted to tell her that it wasn't like that, it was just a way to blow off steam, to relax after long, difficult training sessions. But then she thought of inside jokes and filling pages of her sketchbook with images of him and long conversations and falling asleep on his shoulder while they watch a movie together in one of their hotel rooms … and she tried not to meet Genya's eyes).
Alina had her last appointment with Genya in three days so that they could finalise her birth control, and Aleksander had been very clear about the fact that they wouldn't be having sex until he could be sure she was as safe as possible from accidental pregnancies or other issues.
Not that a lack of sex has really been a problem.
Aleksander, it seems, knows an awful lot of ways to make her scream without ever taking his pants off, and he seems more than happy to show her all of them.
She knows what it would look like if the truth of their relationship ever got out, how many lurid headlines there would be, that it could possibly derail her whole career.
And yet, here she is, grinding down on her coach's thigh, gripping onto his shoulders to keep her steady, chasing her fifth orgasm of the evening while wearing only the gold sun pendant Aleksander had given her as a birthday present just before the final began.
They're playing with fire and she can't bring herself to care. She can make excuses in her mind, call it stress-relief or simply a good workout, but she knows the truth … she is inexplicably drawn to him in a way she can't explain or even really understand.
Now, he glances down at her with an intense look in his eyes, almost identical to the expression on his face in the poster she has of him that still hangs up in her childhood bedroom, the one she focused on sometimes when she was younger and frustrated and …
Nope. She's not letting her thoughts wander in that direction.
The fact that fifteen-year-old Alina used to look straight into poster-Aleksander's eyes when she masturbated is not something she ever wants him to find out. And since she's often convinced that he can read her every thought on her face, she tries desperately to focus on the present rather than the past.
Not too difficult, really, given that her pace is increasing, her breathing heavy as she frantically rocks against Aleksander's thigh, his hands moving to her hips to help her with her rhythm.
"Sasha, Sasha, Sasha," she chants his name like a prayer.
"That's right, sweet girl, keep going," he murmurs as she starts to tremble ever so slightly.
And then she comes with a high-pitched cry, burying her face into his chest as she rides the aftershocks, vision blurred a little.
After a few minutes, Aleksander lets go of her and she falls back against the bed, sweat beading on her brow, tingling all over with the memory of her orgasm.
She tilts her head up to see him hovering at the end of the bed, a satisfied, smug look on his face.
Five orgasms. All of them far more intense than the ones she manages on her own. She supposes he's got every right to look pleased with himself.
Alina closes her eyes, exhausted from a long day.
Just a few minutes, she thinks. If Aleksander can just give her that …
But no, that's not in his nature. He is always pushing her – on the tennis court, in the gym, and now here.
He noses at her swollen clit, despite her half-hearted attempt to push him away.
"Now, sweet girl, come on. I know you can take it."
It's the sort of thing she's heard from him countless times before in less intimate circumstances.
Of course you can manage another twenty minutes on the court. Next level up with the weights, Alina. Come on, we'll stay here until you've figured out this move.
Maybe she can take it. Aleksander has that effect on her, always making believe she can do anything if she puts her mind to it.
Seemingly content that she won't try and stop him, Aleksander turns his attention back to the warm, wet place between her legs.
He is laser-focused, licking and sucking her clint before he inserts two fingers, curving them inside her in a way that makes her shriek loudly.
How did she think she could survive this after everything else they've done since they got back to the penthouse?
She does, though, somehow. It could be seconds or minutes or hours that she lies there, panting and moaning as Aleksander plays her body like an instrument, bringing her right to the edge but never letting her fall over, pulling away once, twice, three times until she is almost sobbing with frustration.
"Please, Sasha," she begs him, "let me come, please let me come."
For a brief moment he goes still and she worries he will deny her, that he will edge her all the way into oblivion.
But then he crooks his fingers and she is gone, finally over the edge.
When she comes it is with a hoarse cry of his name and vision gone white, entirely overwhelmed by pleasure.
It takes her a while to come back to herself.
When she does, Aleksander is lying down next to her, running one of his hands through her tangled hair. It feels nice, comforting.
"What time is it?" she asks quietly.
"Just after midnight," he tells her, "better get ready for bed, malyshka. I think you've earned a bit of a lie-in, but I'm sure we can get in some practice time before we have to leave for the airport."
Alina groans. Whatever happens, she thinks, no one will ever be able to say that Aleksander let her slack on her training.
He laughs, a low sound that makes her stomach flip, "nothing too strenuous, I promise."
"I'll believe that when I see it," she grumbles.
Another laugh, as he tucks her into his side and presses a kiss to her forehead, "goodnight, my sweet little superstar."
Alina falls asleep in his arms.
Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed it.
