Chapter 38: Brevity and Multilingualism
A/N: First off, I apologize for taking so long to get back to this story but writing four chapters back to back required some type of break afterwards lol. Honestly, it was needed. Y'all have no idea how long it took me to research and construct this chapter and lately, I spend too much time on the clock app instead of actually writing. Also this is probably the most John has ever spoken in a chapter so kudos to that! Also their hella translation at the end for people that truly want to know what's being said. I apologize in advance because they're straight from google translate since I'm clearly not a native speaker. Well enough of my ramblings, enjoy!
P.S: Yes, I am still writing the next chapter of Heat of the Moment and it'll be released soon.
An expected boost of adrenaline and anxiety basically acted as your primary fuel for functioning from the second you awoke. You feel oddly energized and almost jittery as you practically bounced between the bathroom and the bedroom getting ready.
As it turned out, the session with John was just what you needed - a restorative connection to help you weave through the mental impasse. For two days following the initial conversation, you and John had spoken about it more in depth and you felt more confident in the decision with his support. During the time in which you discussed it with your significant other, you'd contacted the employers of the bookstore and informed them of your desire to return to work.
Today would be your first day back working in nearly three weeks even though it felt much longer than that. You'd been building up to it and the biggest thing had been getting yourself mentally prepared for it. Until now, you've never heard of a person being excited to come back to work after a prolonged absence. You even compared it to those days back in middle school where you laid your outfit over your bed in preparation for school the next day.
Until now, you've never once heard of a person being elicited to head back to work after a prolonged absence. You compared it to those days back when you were in middle school where you laid your outfit out over your bed in preparation for school the following day.
John quietly leaned against the bedroom door frame, watching as you excitedly scrambled around the room getting ready for your evening shift. You hadn't really left the house except to pay your friends a visit, so your appearance was something you put a lot of emphasis on.
The excitement was apparently enough for you to put more effort into your appearance than you usually would. The casual loungewear had been switched out for formal clothing. Instead of the typical pullovers and athletic pants, you chose a weather appropriate blouse and jeans. You spent quite a few moments adjusting the attire in the mirror, not really liking how uncomfortable you were with how tight the waistband had become around your midsection. In the end, you opted to change back into the loose leggings instead.
As you moved to pass by him, you stopped to place a chaste kiss on your lover's lips in gratitude. "Thank you."
You were full of nerves to the point where you nearly forwent breakfast, something you never do if you can help it. With John's gentle insistence, you were encouraged to eat before you stepped foot out of the house.
When you deemed yourself ready enough, John offered to accompany you to work, to which you accepted. By now it was quite clear that the man was overseeing the entire undertaking from dropping you off to eventually returning to pick you up. With the stipulation that you were to check in with him every hour, possibly for the purpose of maintaining your well-being but mostly to give you peace of mind. You didn't see a problem with it, you preferred it actually.
The moment you walked through the doors, you were immediately greeted by the sight of Ethan walking from behind the counter, face lit up with elation. In the midst of him welcoming you back with clear enthusiasm, his arms came up in what you assume to be an attempt to hug you before they dropped back down to his sides awkwardly a second later.
Right away, you realized that he was going to hug you but stopped himself at the last second. Strangely, you noticed that the action didn't alarm you as much as you thought it would. Him giving you a hug wasn't unusual in the slightest, hugging was something friends did often and you considered him a friend.
While the two of you tried to pretend like that interaction didn't happen, yet another person joined in on the short reunion. By the looks of her, she was definitely the new hire Ethan had told you about as he had been put in charge of teaching him the ropes and helping her settle in the job. According to him, she only started about a week and a half ago and had been doing quite well. Granted - working in a bookstore wasn't a difficult job at all.
Truthfully, you're not that surprised to learn that the owners had hired someone else in your absence. Truthfully, you didn't fault store owners for this. With you being gone for weeks and Ethan potentially having to pull most of the slack, there was no telling if you'd even decide to come back or leave the job indefinitely. Hiring more people was merely a precautionary measure to keep their business thriving and the lack of workers greatly impeded on that.
The first thing you took notice of was that she looked to be on the younger side, possibly fresh out of high school. With a faint blush along her cheeks, she nervously introduced herself - anxiously informing you that her name was Mia and that she looked forward to working with you. From what you gathered so far, the young woman was just as sweet as she could be. A little shy perhaps but very kind and respectful.
Both were traits you greatly admired.
Frankly, you were shocked at how young she looked; with her short stature, square glasses, and braces, the young woman could easily pass for a teenager. Whatever the case, she was quite eager to meet you and talked at length about her own love for reading and books and how she always dreamed of working in a bookstore.
All in all, you found your new coworker to be a very interesting and endearing person.
True to his word, John had been texting you on the hour to check on you. Not taking into consideration how this arrangement came about, you think it's very sweet of him to want to look after you even when he's not physically present even though it's not his first time doing so.
For most of the shift, there wasn't a lot of business, which really sucked because having nothing to do made you sleepy. To pass the time, you took to rearranging the array of books lining the shelves. There's a certain satisfaction you get from reorganizing the shelves and it was a feeling you looked forward to for a while.
When that was done, you'd actively tried to seek out something else to preoccupy your time only to be disappointed to find that Ethan and Mia had already taken care of most of the tasks. In doing so, the pair inadvertently made things a little more boring than you wanted it to be, you were just content to take up your usual place behind the counter again and not be at home.
By the time the fourth hour rolls around, you've yawned numerous times, more out of boredom than actual tiredness, trying to fight off the creeping exhaustion. Even after a while of attempting to read a few pages of the textbook you brought, you finally gave up and decided to use the computer to browse the internet instead.
When the fifth hour finally approached, Ethan had joined you behind the counter after doing an inventory, a task you were sure was supposed to be assigned to you.
"Bored?" You queried, looking from your book.
"No…no. I'm just - yeah." He admitted.
"You?"
"Well considering that I don't really have anything to do. I managed to find something to focus on." You answer with a small smile, gesturing to the textbook.
His cheeks instantly developed a flush. "Sorry about that, I got carried away."
"I'm not mad at all. You've been holding it down all this time, I can't fault you for it. It's giving employee of the month."
The both of you then share an awkward laugh. "Regardless of what you think, there's no way in hell I would've been employee of the month if you hadn't been gone."
"Sounds like my absence was needed then." You chuckled.
"No. I actually prefer it if you were here. Employee of the month isn't really worth you being gone."
A long strained silence stretched between the two of you for what seemed like ages and the statement made you shift from your position tensely. The careful but discreet manner in which he made subtle reference to the subject of the attack was done in a way in order to not make you uncomfortable. You could appreciate the courtesy from him at least. Truthfully, you'd rather not be reminded if at all but that's not how life worked.
The painful silence carried until the male cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Um…you been holding up well?"
Seeing as you were just as eager for a change in topic as him, you immediately replied, "Yeah, I'm fine."
"Cool…cool." He slowly nodded.
You could sense that he didn't know what to say and you didn't either.
For most of the shift, you quickly noticed that Ethan had been tip-toeing around you and treating you more delicately than before. Sadly, it wasn't lost on you why that was. Surprisingly, there was hardly even any book banter between the two of you, something you both engaged in just about every single day on the job. It was almost as if he were afraid of initiating a real conversation with you.
You immediately thought back to the hug he'd almost given you. It wasn't apparent at the time that he'd been considering your peace of mind and the idea that you might not welcome being touched without permission, even by a close acquaintance.
While you appreciate the consideration towards your feelings, the issue wasn't that you had an aversion to being touched - the main issue was that you didn't want him to treat you any differently than before. As it stood, you were mentally debating whether or not to confront the behavior or leave it be until it eventually faded out.
By him behaving in that manner, Ethan was actually doing you a disservice. While you understand why he felt the need to be so cautious around you to begin with, you needed him to understand that you didn't want to be coddled. He can be empathetic, as humans often were but you didn't want him to tiptoeing around you and your perceived feelings. The best thing to do in this situation was to be respectfully candid with him and you wanted the same in return.
"You don't have to do that you know…"
"Do what?"
"Treat me like this. I'm alright…really I am." You specified.
The air between the two of you immediately grew tenser than before as the nature of conversation began to shift once more. He didn't need to ask you what you meant - he knew exactly what you were referring to.
Honestly, you didn't talk about what happened often, as you were just content enough to resign yourself to the realization that it happened and you just wanted to put it behind you as swiftly as possible. Not many people could understand that but you weren't inclined to explain yourself on the matter either. There's been a few instances where people attempted to bring it up, only to finally take the hint when your answers got short and you grew more quieter.
The man's tension riddled shoulders suddenly deflated and a concerned look shone deeply in his eyes when he looked at you. "I'm sorry I just-"
"There's nothing for you to be sorry about. I'm not upset with you. I just want things to stay normal between us. I don't need to be treated any differently because of what happened."
"Right." He replied, face downward in indiscernible shame.
Another prolonged silence stretched between the two of you longer than intended.
Looking for a way to escape the edginess, you chanced a quick glance to Mia, who was busy on a ladder stocking the harder to reach book collection. Seeing there would be no help there, you peeked back to the male before noticing how he now regarded you with a look - one that made your heart sink.
"I wish I'd been there, I would've never let that happen to you." He conveyed.
At that very moment, you could plainly see the emotion in his eyes and the way his brows pulled together as if he were fighting the emotion itself.
Seeing it honestly made your chest feel heavier and you had to avert your gaze elsewhere before the feeling could truly set in. "I know."
For quite a while, the two of you didn't speak, you merely stood next to each in silence.
The only thing that could possibly alleviate the tension now was putting some distance between you both. Luckily Ethan had figured it out and set about putting it into motion. "Hey um…if you need me I'll be stocking the shelves in the back."
Truthfully, you were grateful. You couldn't stand over awkward stillness between the both of you.
You nodded stiffly, forcing a tight-lipped smile. "Sure."
You watched him leave from behind the counter altogether, before glancing at the clock again - only a few more hours left.
After work, you've settled at the kitchen table, deep in the middle of writing a research paper or at least trying to. Truthfully, there was so much for you to catch up on in terms of school work and even with as much as you were able to do in your depressive state, you felt as if you'd hardly done anything. All you really wanted to do was sleep the tiredness you were feeling off.
Truthfully, it was still far too early for you to be trying to crawl into bed as it was only a quarter past seven. You're not really keen on the idea of drinking any caffeine to stay awake so you'll just have to suffer through it for the time being.
You'd been trying to put Ethan's words and the look on his face out of your mind since you came home to no avail. You were left conflicted by the sheer emotion in his eyes as he spoke to you.
You're deep in the midst of thought when a sudden sharp pain flares in your lower abdomen making you hunch over slightly. While it wasn't the first time it happened, you weren't really expecting it. The random stomach cramps you get every now and then can get distracting.
"How often does that pain persist?" John inquired, he was approaching the table and in his hand were two steaming cups, the contents of which smelled very much like tea if your nose proved to be accurate.
"It comes and goes." You answered, trying to rub out the tension in your abdomen.
"Have you thought of seeing a doctor?"
Picking up the cup of tea, you inhaled the steam before blowing on along the surface. "It hasn't too long started so I don't think it's that big of a deal. My um…my period should be starting soon."
At first, you considered blaming it on hunger pain since you felt so weird discussing such a sensitive topic with him but you didn't see the point in lying to him. As far as you know, men were often squeamish about that kind of subject matter regarding women. Although you were assured that you shouldn't feel that type of way given that John had proven himself to be a mature man, certainly mature enough to handle hearing about a woman's menstrual cycle.
"How was work?" He calmly inquired.
For a moment, you inwardly debate whether or not you wanted to impart the conversation you had with Ethan, only to ask yourself what purpose would it serve when the former was only concerned about your well being.
"It was fine. It was a slow day but not bad at all."
There was a point where your head became too comfortable leaning on your hand and you very nearly dozed off twice and barely noticed. Luckily you have a partner that minds your business more than you.
"You should rest." He tenderly emphasized, jolting you fully awake again.
Sitting the pen down, you rubbed at your eyes to will the sleepiness away. "I know. I just need to get this done."
"You know something, earlier today, I was thinking about returning to my classes physically too."
John sipped at his cup of tea a few moments before he gave his opinion on the matter. "Do not over extend yourself, it is far too soon to make such a decision only after a day of work. Give it some time."
Truth be told, you think you're just eager for any type of distraction and falling back into your normal routine would do just that. But unfortunately John was absolutely right, you needed to give it time. With that lingering thought in mind, you turned your attention back to the open hardcover.
Per your professor's comprehensive instructions, you were to write about the particular person's ideology, politics, or the premise of their historical work within the era they resided in. You wind up choosing Tchaikovsky, as in Pyotr llyich, an infamous Russian composer. You're not really sure why you chose a Russian historical figure but you think it had something to do with your professor wanting the class to pick individuals that were considered out of the norm. You actually had to borrow a few books from the bookstore that referenced him.
Given that the holiday season had just passed, you'd heard the Nutcracker more times than you could count and you'd developed a kind of appreciation for the composition despite having little to no extensive knowledge about classical music. The piece reminded you of Christmas and all its whimsical enchantment as you're sure that was the intention behind it.
"Do you know Tchaikovsky?"
John indulged himself in a sip of his own tea before responding. "I'm familiar."
That struck your curiosity almost immediately.
"What do you know about him?"
"He's a famous composer from the Romantic period. He wrote many contemporary pieces that are well known."
That's interesting. Coincidently, you just so happened to select a person that your significant other was knowledgeable on.
"I'm writing a paper on him for my literature class. It's mostly for extra credit but I'm doing it now, since I have a sneaking suspicion that I might need it at the end of the semester." You explained.
Whenever he was referenced in the books, needed at least some translation and you know using google translate isn't as accurate as you'd like it to be. "I can't believe I ended up choosing him. Half of the material about him is written entirely in the Russian language. I can't even pronounce the simple words in this book right, let alone anything else regarding his work. This is supposed to be something easy and I think I just made things way harder for me."
"Come here." He spoke then before he patted his lap once. "Sit."
Despite you being confused by the request, you still heeded it regardless, settling yourself onto his lap just as he commanded. Getting up from the chair you were sitting in, you closed the distance and lowered yourself onto his hardened thigh. A small part of you questioned whether or not he was okay with having most of your weight on his leg - only he gave no indication that it bothered him at all.
"Do you want to write my paper for me?"
"No…you will write it yourself."
His eyes observed printed writing of the open book on the table, skimming over its wording.
"The entirety of that book looks to be written purely in Russian, only a portion of in Belarussian." He observed.
"Belarussian?" You asked. "That's another language?"
"It is."
"How do you know?"
"It is my native language."
It was then that your curious eyes widened a fraction. "So, you're not Russian?"
"I am Belarusian. Nearly the same but not quite."
"Say something in Belarussian."
Perfectly arched brows rose at the sudden request but he obliged nonetheless. "Vy pavinny nieadkladna skoncyc hetuju papieru liehcy spac."
Immediately, your brows are knitted together in confusion. "What does that mean?"
"It means you need to finish your paper."
To say you were transfixed by what you heard was an understatement.
Aside from his mode of living, you'd almost forgotten that he was a cultured man with an infinite bank of knowledge. To you, it was just another distinguishing characteristic to incorporate to the ever growing list - John Wick was also a gifted man with impressive vernacular. Of course, it wasn't your first time hearing him speak another language, it still had the same effect as the first time you heard it. Some people are just born naturally talented.
He must've read the look on your face after you'd gone silent, for his next choice of words didn't surprise you in the slightest since he could sense the most minor of changes in you. "What's the matter?"
"How many other languages can you speak?"
"Several."
Even with him being somewhat intentionally vague, you know that several could mean many things - the actual number seven or many exceeding that number. Meanwhile, you still had some trouble understanding some English accents from other states.
"Nothing, it's just really impressive how much you know about pretty much everything. What else do you know? Did you ever go to college?"
"Not in a conventional sense."
"Oh."
"John…will you teach me…some of the words?"
The man tilted his head faintly to the side. "Which words do you wish to learn?"
"I don't know…the words you think I should know." You shrugged.
Apparently, he deemed your request permissible seeing as it soon became rather evident that he intended to teach you foreign vernacular at your own request. Pure exhilaration bloomed in your chest at the notion.
Truthfully, just the prospect of being able to just hold a conversation with your lover in another language that he spoke fluently excited you. As a matter of fact, you want to become so articulate to the extent that the language no longer sounded like strange noises falling from his lips. Besides, something like learning a foreign dialect had always been of interest to you.
"When choosing to learn another language, a person can learn by way of mouth or understand that language's alphabet. It would be the very first step to becoming well versed in that particular vernacular. Conversational dialogues are also helpful but they can take some time to learn as well. The Russian language can sound quite strange to the American ear and the vocabulary even more so."
You nodded in understanding, practically hanging off every piece of information he gave you. The new information he provided you with was necessary, with it you could gain a general understanding of the discourse surrounding them.
"In contrast, the English language has a tendency to enunciate every syllable in a sentence or word, the Russian equivalent stresses only one."
"Most importantly, the Russian alphabet contains thirty-three letters that are known as the Cyrillic alphabet. Both the Russian and the Belarussian languages derived this alphabet and are therefore mutually intelligible. Because of this, both are considered to be fairly rough languages but not impossible to learn. In fact, some consider the Belarussian language to be endangered in modern times."
"Repeat after me." He softly implored, hand reaching out to touch the book. "Kniga."
A few seconds passed before you realized he intended for you to repeat the same word and you were suddenly hit with a wave of nervousness. Hearing the phrase pass through his lips seemed easy enough to follow however it might sound completely different leaving your own lips.
"Kniga." The assassin reiterated in that low but striking baritone. "Book."
Clasping your hands together in your lap to keep from fidgeting so the man wouldn't notice how they trembled ever so slightly. You drew in a long, steadying breath, using it to anchor any rising anxiousness before you spoke. "Cen-ga?"
"Speak more slowly, there's no need to rush. We have all the time we need to learn." He impassively assured.
His tone placated your restless nerves as you mumbled a subdued. "Okay."
Following that, the man continued on soon, picking up the pen next to it. "Ruchka."
"Ru -chca?" You repeated, the utterance barely discernible and lacking the self-assuredness you'd like to have.
"Ruchka." His rendition was clearly more firm and resonant than yours. "Pen."
You can't get over how authentic and effortless everything sounded leaving his lips. The very same word could sound smooth leaving his mouth while you sounded somewhat unsure. Obviously you have no subtitles to rely on aside from your listening comprehension skills in order to understand what you're hearing; you only have him. You don't understand why you can't seem to say it right. No matter how you try, you're not able to fully enunciate the words correctly.
And where did the problem lie exactly?
In a way, it's your belief that you're mostly having trouble making a correlation between linguistically complex structures and you feel that John also knows it too. Another issue was that you can't construct a solid mental picture of the word before you actually say it. Sadly, your imaginative ability wasn't so great in those aspects.
Not to mention, there existed a major difference between thinking and speaking and not just on a singular level. And right now, you found it hard to make the correlation. Lastly, past of you thinks you lack the discipline and focus needed to learn a subject as extensive as this.
"You don't have to get it right away, just remember how it sounds and do your best to say it with inflection."
"Ruchka." You exhaled.
Perhaps sensing your frustration, John was quickly to offer a word of advice. "For pronunciation sake, your tongue should touch the roof of your mouth. Your tongue is tense…relax it, allow it to move freely so that soft consonants and vowels can work together."
You're by no means knowledgeable on tongue equilibristics but according to him, tongue placement required great expertise especially in his case.
"In a default position, the tip of the tongue should rest lightly against the bottom row of teeth…like so." He explained, demonstrating what he meant.
Even though John's primary objection was to teach you an unfamiliar vernacular, he'd inadvertently awakened a restless stirring deep with you with his latest action. You know you shouldn't be entertaining the feeling but the sight of the man's tongue was rousing despite how you tried to convince yourself otherwise. Perhaps you were driven by an undefined compulsion to become aroused even seeing him do the most mundane of things. It was happening more often than you realized considering you'd only recently started to get your sex drive back.
The notebook you'd been using was soon placed in view and John opened it to the first blank page and began writing on it. By the looks of his handwriting, you think he'd really excel in taking up calligraphy as a hobby. His handwriting was exceptionally beautiful and neat.
When he opens the first page to the book, you're left utterly perplexed by what you see. Darting your eyes furtively over the pages, you're shocked to find that all of the writing looked to be Russian lettering. There wasn't a single line or letter you could make out.
It was considerably different to see the words written on actual paper. The letters looked like unusual symbols to you, not actual letters that made up words.
Regardless, you attempted to put aside the trepidation nerves and make an attempt.
By your own standards, the low pronouncement was barely audible and you know John had to feel the same.
The way in which you pronounced the words was undoubtedly one of the main issues, either you were missing a syllable or just incapable of conveying the words in the manner you were supposed to. Considering that you're an English speaking woman, you expected to butcher most of the phrases anyway. Your hope is that some of it will be ingrained into your everyday vocabulary.
He was patient though. Not once had he admonished you harshly or expressed frustration with your verbal mistakes. He didn't want you disheartened, he wanted you to keep trying.
Certain words and phrases try to come to your mind in bits and pieces and you admittedly have a hard time grasping the understanding of most of them. Having to process so many unknown words at one time can be overwhelming and exasperating.
Slightly discomfited that you hadn't been able to get that one right. It seemed like an easy inflection in your mind but that would prove to be something different when it came out of your mouth. Obviously, you're not going to be as proficient as him. You're way too self-conscious and hyper aware of yourself to give the appearance of a person who was self-assured of their capabilities. As a part of your strategy, you tried to listen to certain verbal cues in order to have some comprehension of what you needed to say.
With every introduction of a new word or phrase, your sudden inability to think hindered any learning capabilities you needed to retain its meaning. It wasn't that you weren't confident in yourself, it was just that you had to constantly remind yourself that he was a fluent speaker and you were not. You're just so eager to please him in any way that you want to get it right each time.
"Pryhozaja." He voiced plainly.
"Um…" You spattered, frantically searching your brain for familiarity or possible correlation with another word.
The man patiently watched you struggle to come up with something, offering absolutely no input.
This probably went on for another few minutes before one his hands came up to hold your cheek gently and a deep flush covered your cheeks almost instantly. "Look at me."
Doing exactly as he bid, you were shocked to discover that John's eyes were gleaming with something profound in them. Your pulse quickly accelerated, the pumping organ in your chest drumming wildly.
Slanting your head inquisitively, you tried to stay focused and come up with an explanation for the action before the idea that it might be a context clue crossed your mind. "Uh…face?"
"Pryhozaja means beautiful."
"Oh." You murmur, the warmth in your cheeks spreading.
He inclined his head, his gaze growing more intense by the second and you found yourself unable to look away.
"Let's move on."
Every so often the hitman switched back and forth between Russian, Belarussian and English, easily making the distinction between all three while establishing their meaning. After using his advice, you had no issues with the next few words and John generously acknowledged that fact.
A gentle hand started moving up and down your spine in a soothing manner. "Very good. Now let me hear you pronounce it."
You gave him a look, eyes boring into his as if asking if you really needed to. The resulting stare he gave you back was one of resolution.
Your mouth opened and closed twice before his thumb came up to rest over your bottom lip. "Milaya, you remember what I taught you…use your tongue."
Immediately, following the interaction, the atmosphere was suddenly buzzing with something strange and it sent pleasant tinges across your skin. Truthfully, the words shouldn't elicit such a response from you and certainly not to the extent where it causes your stomach to do somersaults.
The butterflies fluttering madly in your stomach soon gave way to deep seated desire as it always did and you caught your innocent thoughts shifting into more darker territory.
The sound of his voice enthralled you, stirring a familiar heat inside your stomach. The rich, articulateness within his voice and subsequent accent was making you feel things deep within that you hadn't anticipated. Honestly, you should be ashamed, after all you were supposed to be learning and yet here you were lusting after him and his voice with your girly parts burning hotter than a furnace.
The entirety of your face felt completely hot and flushed while you sat shame-faced in his lap. You tried to avoid eye contact with him for this very reason, quickly averting your gaze whenever the two of you managed to lock eyes. John however, appeared totally reserved throughout.
The both of you kept going through words until he gave an extraordinary long pronunciation and doubt quickly took over the forefront of your mind.
"I don't think I can get that one." You stammered hesitantly. "It's too hard."
"You're not listening." He said in a toneless intonation.
"I am listening. I just can't remember that one right now."
"You do. We just went over a similar word."
"I don't remember." You say, mildly embarrassed.
He studied you for a couple of indecipherable moments. "So that is the main issue…you being unable to retain the information?" The hitman asked in that same modulated, throaty pitch.
"I guess so…" You shrugged, unsure of how to rectify the situation even if that really were the case.
John merely regarded you with an unfathomable countenance while you continued to stare him down without any hint of abashment.
While unspecified in spoken terms, it seemed like the two of you had reached an impasse - one that was just waiting to be crossed by any means.
Despite believing it was in your best interest to just say nothing, you found that you couldn't resist asking the burning question. "Well…what now?"
And with that bold inquiry, you narrowly missed the slight narrowing of his eyes.
In retrospect, you shouldn't have asked him the question. You shouldn't have asked him anything in such an offhand manner and now you were reaping the consequences for it. Nothing could've prepared you for the way your supposed multilingual paramour rid you of your panties and eased your thighs apart with the purpose of continuing the teaching session. Although you didn't know what his intentions were for the first few moments until he issued a hushed demand to you…
"The alphabet…recite it in full." He simply said.
"What?"
"I want to hear you recite it to me."
You dimmed wondered what was being asked of you until a series of movements brought your core extremely close to his face. Just when you thought he might dive right in, he paused briefly to inhale the tantalizing, sweet scent wafting from you. More heat gathered in your face as you watched the scene play out. You watched the slow transformation of his composed features shift into something substantially darker and lustful the more he stared at your most sacred place.
He always seemed to revel in it - having your pussy in his face.
"But…"
"But what?"
"I…can't remember it."
"Try." Even with him using a tone that was soft and commanding, it was clear that he expected you to do as he instructed without question.
Suspended in an absolute state of shock, you lay there in a stupor, not knowing whether to heed his demand or hold out for some odd reason that eluded you.
It wasn't long before you could almost feel him smirking against your skin. "Milaya…you're being unnecessarily stubborn. Fortunately, I have just the remedy for that."
Every trace of apprehension seemed to leave you when he situated his mouth directly over your mound and that first lick of sweltering tongue made contact with your dewy folds. Flinching, the feeling completely took you by surprise.
While you didn't expect to be let off the hook that easily, it was incredibly sadistic of him to think you could discern foreign verbiage at a time like this. But it wasn't hard to imagine something like this taking place, given that he regularly maintained and established the power dynamic between the two of you.
"I'll ask only one more time…the cyrillic alphabet. I want to hear it." He asserted, the timbre of his masculine voice shifted into something darker, something more authoritative.
By now, you understand John's poised pattern of speaking well enough to figure out that him calmly expressing that he wanted to hear it was obviously his way of saying, "You have about five seconds to do as I told you before I fuck you up."
And right now, feigning incompetence wasn't a game you wanted to play with him.
"Okay…okay." You nervously proclaimed, frantically scraping your brain for information.
One by one, you began to recite the intonation of each letter in a practiced manner. You don't think it mattered whether or not you were merely reciting letters from memory or just a small place in your brain where it had been unconsciously stored without your knowledge.
"I'm under the impression that you do not value any of the lessons I taught you."
"I did…I paid attention." You pleaded breathlessly. "I'm trying! I really am!"
"Are you?" he said.
"I am…I promise."
"Then show me." He urged, leaning down to lavish your womanhood with open mouthed kisses whilst he spoke quietly to you. All the while, he made sure to keep your legs spread open, before he introduced more light, teasing intervals of licks along your glistening folds.
"Praciahvaj…ja chacu heta pacuc piers cym ja zzer ciabie calkam."
Your own tongue seeped out to wet your lips, trying to focus solely on memorizing the words even with your pulse thrumming loudly in your ears. Rather unconsciously, your waist twisted amidst the delicate sweeps of tongue, to keep from messing up.
While you thought that perhaps engaging your memory might be the main issue, the real truth of the matter was, you were just struggling to remain fully cognizant of his verbal requests and expectations solely because of him. Considering, he wasn't really giving you a second to relax and think. John's licentious ministrations made it extremely impossible to concentrate let alone bring forth words of another language to the forefront of your mind.
Nonetheless, you began reciting the Cyrillic letters in a slow, measured tenor, remaining extremely cautious of his reaction. You'd managed to make it to the supposed tenth letter when a startling nip to your thigh easily foretold your mistake.
The hitman canted his head upwards for a brief moment, peering directly at you through narrowed brown orbs. "I'm starting to think you didn't appreciate my lessons." His tone was hauntingly deep and resonant.
After the first few times, it became obvious that he'd been paying the utmost attention to every bodily response, watching for any sign or indication that you were getting close to cumming just to snatch it right from under you. With every correct answer he rewarded you and with every incorrect one, he prolonged the sinful torture. And every time you messed up or gave a wrong answer, he would immediately stop or slow his efforts, snatching any hope of reaching orgasm right from under you. Virtually, taking you to the edge and pulling you right back.
By this point, you've grown ultra sensitive to the point where it nearly hurts and the routine was quickly turning you from a needy woman seeking release to a very frustrated, dissatisfied one.
It wasn't long before you figured out that the man's actions were purely methodical. An orgasm was meant to be the reward for proficiently retaining the words he'd taught you, given that you were able to understand them in the right context. And he had no intention of granting you one until you proved you deserved it.
You don't know how long this went on for and it was foolish to question it knowing deep down that it would go on for as long as he wanted it to. He currently held all the power and there wasn't anything you could do to change it. In actuality, you know better than to doubt his stamina when it came to something like this. Not to mention that it was incredibly difficult to maintain your progress on account of how good John's ministrations were. He was proving that your earlier observations of him being a gifted man with unlimited talents were entirely correct with this being a prime example of that.
Though rather unconventional, you hadn't known that someone choosing to go down on you constituted a suitable teaching method. Nevertheless, it was proving quite effective considering the circumstances. As it turned out, a prolonged tongue lashing was both the best punishment and the most efficient teaching method. In a way, this action could be classified as a twisted form of positive reinforcement. Nonetheless, you weren't in any position to dwell on it for long.
This time he deliberately focused all his attention on your clit and vulva and gradually added more stimulation to them with every correct answer from you. Occasionally dipping the muscle into the warm inviting orifice that was your urethral opening, allowing the agile muscle to enter you with a pointed stroke.
He licked your labia at a slightly slower pace, using his tongue to gently massage the tiny engorged bud. Soon moving to applying suitable suction to your pulsing clit and producing a delightfully intense sensation. Masterfully sustaining the perfect amount of pressure on the spot, before proceeding to give it more slower, even strokes of tongue. Producing a tingling sensation that caused your body to secrete even more slickness.
Having gotten his fill of sucking directly on your labia in tender pulls, he took turns switching from your clitorus to your vaginal entrance, delving inside to gingerly caress the inner lips of your opening.
Just how in the hell were you supposed to sort through the mental fog while he was devouring your pulsing clit like this? How were you supposed to think clearly with the man moving his tongue inside you in such a distinct manner?
"Smak u ciabie prosta vytancany…cym bois u mianie jaho, tym bois prazerlivym ja rabliusia." He whispered against your skin.
Currently, you didn't have a single clue of what he was saying to you, only that it turned you on more than ever. Whatever he was saying now just sounded so hypnotic. The man's resonant tone was like auditory bliss to your ears.
"Please!" You rasped pitifully.
The flat of his tongue pushing apart the folds to expose your hidden clit, laving at the sensitive flesh before him, all while slurping up any heady arousal gathering at your opening. Curling his tongue inside to catch any juices seeping out of your body, massaging the walls of your clenching passage. The slick from your body intermixing with the saliva from his tongue. Amidst the waves of pleasure, you can feel the neatly trimmed facial hair tickling your skin.
"Ty nie skoncys, pakui nie dasi mnie toje sto ja prasu."
The man really put his oral aptitude to the test, tracing expert patterns over your weeping folds and using his wet appendage to prolong the tongue lashing. Before long, both of your hands ended up intertwined in his dark locks, pulling at the silken strands while undulating more into the man's hot mouth. A myriad of uncontrolled breaths left your mouth in relatively uneven and short bursts.
Strategically dragging the flat of his tongue over the entirety of your cunt, varying in firmness and speed depending on your responses. Because of this, the seemingly endless pleasure stretched on with no discernible resolution. The excruciating pleasure repeatedly rose and faded in overwhelming surges, constantly pulling you away from the cusp of sweet release each time.
You were completely lost in the words and feel of his talented mouth. By this point, you were convinced that no one could move their tongue like he could, be it for speaking or using it for something like this. You've long since acknowledged that his pussy eating skills were immaculate and that had never once been up from debate.
He continued rolling the dexterous organ over your sensitive flesh, keeping the muscle flat while applying the gentlest pressure. The motion agonizingly slow, essentially playing on how sensitive you were in various spots. Tiny tremors began to wreck your frame, the swirls of tongue doing you in quicker than you can handle and sending you into fits of spasms. The overstimulation from it was downright painful and you felt as helpless as a kitten with no choice but to accept what was happening to you.
It's all you can make out before your body was arching upward and you ultimately lost the ability to think entirely.
"...Dobraja dziaucynka." You hear him quietly utter.
Once the last letter passes through your lips, the low hum of approval from him sends entire vibrations through your frame making you quake in ecstasy, core clenching around the blissful intrusion. You have to brace yourself once again when he deftly changes the pace and intensity of his exploits, gradually working you towards the edge.
Once again you're experiencing that pleasurable build-up that led directly towards the orgasmic nirvana you craved more than anything. You began to cry out in earnest then, hoping he would finally grant you release.
In a devastating turn of events, your brain began short-circuiting, careening intensely towards a mind-shattering orgasm. A powerful climax tore through your entire being in that moment, leaving utterly exhausted and boneless.
When the feeling subsides, you lay exhaustedly across the table, staring up at nothingness.
Eventually, John's silhouette comes to stand over you. Luckily he's recognizable enough since you could barely make out his face through your hazed line of vision.
He leans to place a lingering wet kiss on your open lips before pulling away. "Were my teaching lessons sufficient?"
Like any man satisfied with his own sexual prowess, he just had to let it be known in some way. You both know it wasn't just about his 'teaching lessons'. When you asked him to teach you a few words from his native language, you hadn't expected to be spread out over the kitchen table. And most shocking of all, you still had yet to finish writing your paper.
Regardless, you had a hard time believing you possessed the ability to speak so you just nodded an answer instead.
There was one thing you took from the entire experience though - John Wick made for a very good tutor.
Translations: Vy pavinny nieadkladna skoncyc hetuju papieru liehcy spac - "You should finish this paper immediately and go to bed."
Ty nie skonycs, pakul nie dasi mnie toje, sto ja prasu - "You won't cum unless you give me what I ask." -
Dobraja dziaucynka - "Good girl."
Praciahvaj…ja chacu heta pacuc piers cym ja zzer ciabie calkam - "Go on…I want to hear it before I devour you whole."
Smak u viable prosta vytancany…cym bois u mianie jaho, tym bois prazerlivym ja rabliusia - "The taste of you is simply exquisite. The more I have it,the more ravenous I become."
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