The weather starts to shift, and by the time we enter Dimitri's apartment the grey clouds are casting ominous shadows over the otherwise beautiful view. We walked in holding hands, a far cry from our more spectacular entrance last time, and I can tell by Dimitri's smile that he's thinking the same thing.
"How sure are you that Tasha's not in a cupboard somewhere?" I joke as Dimitri hangs his jacket up by the door.
He turns to me with a laugh, then steps towards me. The sheet length of his stride means that he covers the distance between us easily, before twining his fingers through my hair. I smile up at him, tilting my chin towards him in invitation.
"We can go looking if you'd like; spend time conducting a thorough search," he says softly. We're close enough that his breath drifts across my lips as he speaks, making It difficult to concentrate on what he's saying. I swallow as he continues: "Or I can just lock the bedroom door."
A thrill runs through me, and I almost melt into his arms. "Yeah that second option sounds pretty good," I breathe.
And when he kisses me I realise that the internal battle I've been fighting is well and truly lost. Because I've never felt so complete, so safe as I do when I'm in his presence. It's like being near him answers a need in me, one I wasn't even aware was going unmet until now.
Dimitri's tongue sweeps through my mouth and I make a noise. I feel him smile against my lips in response. For some reason, that's what breaks my resolve. I've wanted him for ages, but since last night I've desperately needed him. Once I acknowledge the feeling, it only serves only deepens the ache of his absence between my thighs. So I stretch onto my toes and open my mouth to draw him deeper, and moan again when his tongue almost hits the back of my throat.
Fuck this, why are we still dressed?
My hands go to the buttons on his shirt, fumbling them undone with desperate fingers. Dimitri's hands rove appreciatively underneath my blazer, setting my skin tingling with his touch. I pause at his final button so I can shrug out of my jacket, which makes a dull sound as it hits the floor. And then with one last twist of my fingers I'm rewarded by the view of his shirt falling open. I lean back to take him in, the siren song of his skin. The sight of him before me tugs at my heart.
And I lose my goddamn mind.
I'm all over him in an instant, kissing his chest, tracing my tongue along the grooves and ridges of his body. My breathing is harsh and loud in my own ears, echoing back to me off the wall of his skin in front of my face. God he tastes good. I feel his groan vibrate through both of us, and I slide his shirt from his shoulders so that I can circle my tongue around his nipple. My hand slips into the back of his pants to squeeze his ass, and I run my lips along his skin.
Fingers constrict around my throat.
"Come back here," Dimitri says roughly, and pulls my lips back to his.
His tongue is hot and wet, with an edge of desperation around his normal mask of control. It's not enough for me though; I want him to crave me the way I crave him. I want to see him entirely unraveled. So I plunge my tongue into his mouth, searching for what I need, only to have him chuckle.
"Eager, Roza?"
Infuriating, beautiful man!
"As though you're not?" I reply sweetly.
I nip the skin of his jaw, and at the same time I squeeze the shape of him through the crotch of his pants. Dimitri lets out a breath between his teeth.
I stretch onto my toes to whisper in his ear. "Exactly. Take me to bed."
A string of Russian, then he lifts me up to straddle his hips. But my skinny jeans were not made for that range of motion.
"We seem to have a problem," Dimitri notes as he sets me back on my feet.
At this point I'm willing to rip my pants if it will get us to his bedroom faster. But our dilemma seems to have resulted in the return of Dimitri's infernal self control.
He has that wicked grin on his face that I suspect means he wants to play with me first, before he'll give in and fuck me. Sure enough he sinks to his knees before me, reaching up to splay a hand on my stomach and lift my shirt. He presses a kiss into the exposed skin right above the waistband of my jeans. In spite of myself my head rolls back, and my hand winds into his hair as he skims his nose across the same place. Back an forth, back and forth. The simple contact sends waves of goosebumps radiating across my stomach.
I open my eyes to look at him, finding that I need to lean forward a little in order to see past my body. Dimitri feels me shift, and his eyes meet mine from below. A grin spreads across his face. Slowly, maintaining eye contact, he traces his tongue along that same spot, which is insanely sensitive at the moment. The resulting tingling feeling echoes between my legs. His tongue dips below my waistband, about three inches above where it should be.
Yes, it feels amazing. But at the same time I am so frustrated. How can he possibly have the self-control to tease me when I want to devour him where he stands? How can he be toying with me like this when he didn't even come last night? Although, he probably had to take care of himself when he got home. Hmmm. The thought brings back the memory of his hand stroking his cock, and the unchecked pleasure of it written across his face. That thought does things to me.
Since Dimitri seems occupied with testing my limits, I decide to return the favour and whip my shirt off over my head. His eyes flick upwards to admire the view, and he bites the sensitive skin of my hip which makes me groan again. Apparently as a reward, he finally undoes my fly. He slides my pants down over my thighs, my calves, trailing kisses and tiny nips along my skin in the denim's wake.
It's a slow process.
Dimitri's fingers are amazing and his tongue is evenly matched. I know he can pretty much make me come through eye contact alone. But I need more than pleasure, more than a fleeting moment of feeling good. I need to soothe the jagged edge of knowing we won't have much time together for a while. I need to cling to him to pretend to myself that I never have to let go. I need him as close as he can possibly get.
"Comrade," I breathe, tugging his hair.
"Lift your foot," he instructs. So I do, despite that building sense of frustration.
He pulls one leg of my jeans free over my ankle, but the motion sets me off balance and I almost fall. Dimitri stands quickly to steady me.
"You okay?" he asks as I brace my hands on his biceps.
I nod, but end up having to twist my other leg up in order to finally free myself.
"Well that was sexy," I mutter, which makes Dimitri laugh.
"Roza, if you were any sexier I think the sight of you would kill me," Dimitri says. "I wouldn't worry if I were you."
My heart flutters, and my face flushes.
"Take me to bed," I repeat, lifting my chin so he can see how serious I am.
Those brown eyes darken as I meet his gaze, and his hand finds my throat again. I let out a gasp of protest, but it's cut off as he uses his leverage to pull my ear to his lips.
"You are so fucking hot, Roza. Especially when you beg."
I swallow, feeling the pressure of his palm on my voicebox as it bobs. My entire body is warm.
"Technically I'm demanding, not begging," I reply, unable to help myself.
My voice comes out a little strained, and when Dimitri pulls back I can see a glint of something in his eyes. Hmm, seems like he may have a bit of a thing for this. And yeah, knowing it turns him on makes it so much hotter.
"Fine," he smirks. "Since you demanded so nicely."
I don't have time to respond before he lifts me up again, crushing my mouth to his. My legs can now move freely to wrap themselves around his hips. And that grip proves necessary as he starts to walk us down the hallway. Every step he takes jostles me slightly, but I'm not about to complain. With every movement I feel the tension behind his fly pressing into me. I'm honestly a little surprised I don't soak through the thin fabric of my underwear.
We almost don't make it to Dimitri's bedroom.
With his tongue hot in my mouth and the evidence of how much he needs me flush against me, there's a moment where we both pull back enough to meet each other's eyes. And Dimitri has me up against the wall in a heartbeat, hard enough that I hear the impact of my back on the drywall. He kisses my neck, wetting my skin in the process of attempting to devour me. In the meantime his other hand undoes his pants. I stop breathing when I feel the silky warmth of him so close, and he groans as he slides against my saturated underwear. All he has to do it pull it to the side before he can fuck me, and I wait with bated breath.
But common sense prevails, somehow.
"Bedroom," he pants. "Condom. Drawer."
God fucking damnit.
"Right," I reply, trying to swallow back the burning wave of lust that threatens to consume me. "Then let's go."
I need to get back on birth control.
Dimitri's room is probably very cool looking. But all I register is a vague impression of a moody grey, in the same colour family as the sheets I'm set down on a few moments after we enter the room. The ceiling is white, I'm able to note, before my view of it is entirely obscured by Dimitri.
For a moment he looks like he wants to prolong my suffering. His attention drifts downwards as I lie beneath him, his tongue visibly toying with his bottom lip. And sure enough as I lift my hips so he can pull my underwear off, he starts to move lower.
"Not a fucking chance, Dimitri," I grit out between my teeth.
His eyes widen.
I grab his hand, pulling it between my legs so that he can feel how soaking wet I am.
"Does it seem like I need more foreplay to you?" I demand. "I need you. Now."
His throat bobs as he swallows. "Da, Roza."
He stands, and I hear a drawer open and the rustle of a foil packet. I take the opportunity to unclip my bra and fling it off to the side. And when Dimitri returns to the foot of the bed, my attention is immediately drawn to the latex unrolling all the way down to his base.
I swallow. The sight of him is enough to make my muscles go slack; I'm practically a puddle on his bed as he looms over me. My eyes rove up his frame, taking in every tiny detail. He is so perfect.
"You can stop flexing now," I say. It was meant to be a joke, but my voice comes out all breathy.
Dimitri grins and climbs onto the bed, positioning himself between my legs.
"Don't worry, Roza. I'll only flex what counts."
True to his word, he shifts forward and fills me to the brim.
I arch off the bed, trying to absorb the sheer pleasure of him. And I do have to give myself credit; I don't come as soon as he enters me again. However I'm definitely not the only one who notices. Dimitri seems to take it as a personal insult that he didn't repeat the experience, and so he makes sure I can feel every inch of him as he withdraws for another thrust. And oh my god he's like velvet inside me. The feeling of him moving is luxurious enough to make me close my eyes. He buries himself right to the hilt, saturating me with pleasure, then pulls back again.
It takes all of three repetitions before I start to feel that familiar tension building. I tighten around him, savoring the depth of his sensation. The warmth of him, the fullness, that solid feeling of him caressing me from the inside... I lock my ankles above his ass, and my arms pull him down to me as my muscles start to shake.
I cling to him. Dimitri, solid and warm and certain, thrusting into me again and again as I come undone. He's my only anchor as I'm swept away by the tide. And as everything I am narrows to focus on where we're joined, those three words seem to shimmer behind my eyelids.
I cry out.
Luckily speaking capabilities aren't my body's priority at the moment, so all that escapes my mouth is an unconnected string of sounds. The tension begins to release from my muscles, and I slump back to the bed. Dimitri pauses, allowing me to get my bearings. He nuzzles my ear with his nose, his breath tickling my skin. But with the exquisite feeling of him settled inside me, stretching me open, I'm not able to keep still for long. I tilt my hips, using my legs to rock myself against him. And I'm rewarded by the low sound he makes in his throat before he speaks.
"More?" Dimitri's voice is rough, dripping with desire.
"More," I reply, aware that I'm sounding more than a little gruff myself. "Please, more."
He brings his mouth to mine, kissing me thoroughly as he slides into me again. It's slower paced, but I can feel every tiny movement he makes. He sets my nerve endings alight, sending waves of pleasure across my body. I arch my neck and squeeze my eyes shut, focusing solely on the way he moves. But I still want more.
As though he can sense my need, Dimitri grabs the back of my knee and bends it up to my chest. And as he drives into me again my eyes fly open.
The feeling is impossible to put into words. It's definitely intense, and I find myself shifting a little. But I'm not sure if I'm pulling away or urging him in further. He's so very deep that I'm balanced on the knife edge between pleasure and pain. Dimitri's paused again, gauging my reaction.
"Too much?" he asks.
I shake my head. "Just take it slow while I get used to it," I reply with a smile.
He kisses me again, gently. And the soft sweep of his tongue marries the slow rhythm he begins to set, holding himself back so he can let me get used to the feeling. He moves just a little bit deeper with every stroke, and I start to anticipate his movement. I start to relax, my body beginning to answer his with each thrust. I sling my calf over his shoulder, which brings him deeper and frees up his hand. And when he moves it to my ass so he can pull me to him harder, I drape my other leg over his other shoulder.
"Good girl Roza," Dimitri says from above me.
It sends tingles down my spine, and I open my eyes to find him grinning down at me. His hair is loose and falling into his face, so I reach up and twist my fingers through it. But our eyes lock and his expression turns more serious. His eyes seem to dance as he looks at me, and I know my own gaze softens.
Dimitri slides out of me slowly, relishing the feeling. His eyes close for a second. And when he opens them it seems like he's trying to tell me to brace myself. And he slams home with more force than before, now holding nothing back.
It feels incredible. But watching him lose control heightens the sensation, and on the next stroke Dimitri suddenly hits what feels like the very centre of me.
My mind goes blank. My instincts take over.
I grab at his thighs, my nails biting into his skin as I draw him to me. I feel his muscles tensing beneath my palms as he works to fuck me.
Faster, I want to say. Harder. But I seem to have lost the ability to speak.
Apparently my body makes my request fairly clear, or maybe Dimitri can just read me like a book. My hips start to undulate, searching for more friction. Mercifully he starts increasing the pace, but I seem to be driven wild. I need more. I need everything he can give me. I need him closer.
I love him.
I explode around him, slamming my hips up to meet him. I'm panting between my teeth, Dimitri mutters a few words of Russian.
It's all I'm able to register before my consciousness shatters entirely. The most mind blowing orgasm I've ever experienced blasts through me. Every cell in my body is lit with pleasure, every fibre of my being is dedicated to bringing Dimitri closer, deeper. I'm dimly aware of my name amidst the foreign syllables, but by the time I'm able to form his name it's barely a whisper that escapes my lips.
I regain my mental faculties with a gasp. My body constricted to the point where I couldn't draw breath, and I return to the much less exciting state of being aware that I require oxygen. In fact, as I become aware of myself again, I would never have guessed I was able to bend this way.
"God," I breathe.
"I'm flattered," comes the glib response, and I resist the urge to smack him.
We're both entirely spent, draped across each other and ensconced in twisted sheets like a renaissance tableau. For what seems like the first time in my life I feel entirely at peace. And I know that it's simply because I'm with him.
My mind floats idly in a state of bliss, distantly observing my racing pulse as it slowly steadies. I glance over at Dimitri. The resulting wave of emotion would have knocked me over had I not been lying down.
He is completely perfect. The sweep of his closed eyelids, the faint flush in his cheeks. The contrast of his eyebrows and eyelashes against skin that seems to glow. His chest is heaving, much like my own. I don't think I've ever seen anything more beautiful than the man lying next to me.
Dimitri's eyelids twitch open, and he catches me staring. A grin bright as a sunrise spreads across his face. When he speaks I can hear the residual roughness in his voice from those noises he made earlier.
"So," he says, "worth the wait?"
I roll my eyes, but his grin is infectious.
"No," I reply honestly.
He winds an arm around my waist, pulling me to his chest.
"I don't believe you," he murmurs in my ear.
I twist around so I can see his face. "I'm serious," I insist with a smile. "You're telling me I could have been having sex that good this entire time? I've been robbed."
Dimitri chuckles; I feel it rumble through his chest. "Well when you put it like that."
"I feel distinctly deprived, Comrade. You'll have to make it up to me."
He laughs quietly. "I'll gladly accept that punishment."
There's a comfortable silence in which Dimitri nuzzles his face into my hair, while I just enjoy the sensation of him breathing behind me. It feels like my heart expands with every breath he takes. And when his arms tighten around me to pull me closer, the realisation I had earlier resurfaces.
I love him.
God, afterglow hormones are a dangerous drug. Because instead of being concerned that I've fallen so quickly, instead of reminding myself it's way too soon, I want to tell him. Desperately.
You'd think simply not saying something would be easy, right? Just keep your mouth shut, distract yourself if you need to. But the desire to tell Dimitri burns in my chest like a hot coal. But I'm not a total idiot. So I compromise.
"Seni seviyorum," I whisper.
My pronounciation is probably terrible. But I can almost taste the sunshine of those days when I was a kid and my parents were together. When my father would say little Turkish phrases to my mother, who still had laughter in her eyes.
Dimitri props himself up on his elbow. "What did you say?"
I grin. "You're not the only one who can say something in a foreign language and not explain what it means."
His eyes narrow, but I laugh and press a kiss to his lips.
"Don't worry about it," I tell him, and I settle back into his arms.
I try not to worry about how things stand, and the uncertainty of when I'm going to be able to spend time with him like this again. But I have a feeling Dimitri senses the slight tension in my frame, and can guess the reason behind it. The warmth of our embrace is like a talisman against that doubt, and I could happily lie here with him for eternity. But after a few minutes I feel him shift.
"You okay?" I check.
He sighs. "I'm assuming you'd have some objections if I tried to get up to get a pen and paper?"
"You assume correctly," I smile. "Why don't you keep a notebook in your nightstand?"
A frustrated sound. "I do. But I brought it with me to my studio yesterday so I could finish something, and then I didn't put it back. The staff know not to touch it."
I shrug, trying to feign noncholance. "You can go if you want."
But even as I say the words, the thought of letting this moment end has me tightening my grip on his forearms that are wrapped around me.
"One second," he promises and lets go. But he only half rolls away, reaching one long arm to rummage in the drawer next to his bed. A noise of triumph, then he's back holding a marker.
"Do I want to know why that's next to your bed?" I ask.
Dimitri just smiles. "Roll onto your stomach please."
Curious, I oblige, and a second later I feel the cool kiss of the marker on my shoulder blade. I go still.
In spite of what we've just done, I'm overwhelmed with the intimacy of this moment. Dimitri's face hovers near enough to where he's busy on my skin that I can feel the tickle of his hair as he moves. And each stroke of his writing is a sensual caress - in an entirely different way than the incredible sex. His hand reaches my side and the marker pauses briefly. I'm assuming he's thinking of the next line. So I roll onto my side for him to continue the paragraph on my ribs when he's ready.
The tickle of the nib resumes, and I do my best to keep my breathing shallow so as not to disrupt him. He continues writing over my ribs, wrapping the text over to my abdomen and finally coming to a stop just beneath my breast. I had my arm raised above my head to stay out of his way, but now I try to twist myself around so I can read what he's written.
"Goddamn you're beautiful Roza," Dimitri says quietly. "It's like you steal the air right from my lungs."
"What did you write?" I ask, pulling my skin so I can try to see the words. But the angle is really tricky.
"Easy," Dimitri warns, grabbing my hand, "You're going to smudge it. Here."
And he rolls away again to snag his phone. My eyes widen as I watch him shift onto his knees above me, his phone camera lens poised. He gives me a moment to intercede if I want, but I nod my permission.
I hear the shutter once, twice. Then Dimitri asks me to lie on my stomach and stretch my arm above my head. He brushes my hair back until it tickles my ribs, then he shifts individual strands around to hide my face. The shutter sounds again, and I can hear him moving. I feel the mattress shift, and he snaps another picture. He turns on a lamp and takes another one, then gets up to close the curtains.
I feel so safe with him, completely comfortable. And something about how focused he is, how he tenderly strokes my skin to adjust my pose, it makes me feel... adored.
"Chin on your shoulder, like you're looking back at me," Dimitri is saying. Another click of the shutter. "Gorgeous. Perfect. God, I can't wait for you to see these."
He takes a few more photos and then lies back down beside me. I grab a pillow to support my head and shift so that I'm next to him as he holds his phone. I'm curious to see, sure. But I'm also just happy to be with him.
"You look incredible," Dimitri gushes, swiping through the photos in front of us. But when I catch sight of the expression shining on his face, I barely spare a glance for the pictures. That is until he goes back into the gallery to select another one.
"Comrade! There must be like thirty!"
"And?" he grins. "You're a work of art. I couldn't resist."
"Your work of art," I smile, stroking his shoulder.
"No Roza, you're my muse. Look."
Finally I do focus on his phone screen and I almost gasp.
It's very well composed, reminding me of a painting. The light is perfect, hilighting the curve of my back and shoulder with a warm glow that lends the image a cozy feeling. The swell of my breast is barely discernable in the shadows, and those carefully arranged tendrils of hair look artfully noncholant, like I've just woken from a nap. My face is mostly cropped out; you can only see my chin and nose. But the focus is clearly the lettering scrawled boldly across my skin.
The lines follow the contours of my body, fading in an put of view with the shadows. Some words are stretched, others compressed, and some change direction halfway.
"It really is beautiful," I murmur, enraptured. "Can you send these to me?"
"Absolutely. I don't know why I was expecting you to disagree with me," Dimitri chuckles, and I watch him select and send them all.
Then he scrolls to another picture with a different angle, and I reach out to zoom in on the words.
"Yes, beautiful pictures Comrade," I agree, "but terrible handwriting. I can barely read any of it."
The bed shakes with Dimitri's laughter, and I smile along with him.
"I'm assuming it's a new song?" I ask after a beat.
"It is. And I'll read it to you since you can't."
"Thank you. Read and not sing?"
He shakes his head. "No melody yet, I just wrote the words. Here."
Dimitri gently rolls me over, tracing his finger along the lines on my skin as he reads them to me.
"Should we slip in between the sheets
Observe how our bodies meet
Watch you as you worship me
Pray that time will freeze
We'll generate some body heat
Bring you to the edge with me
I beg better on my knees
My pleasure to please"
I have to swallow as he reads the last line, his fingertip giving me goosebumps.
"I'm not sure if you can release that," I say slowly.
He shoots me a wicked grin. "Oh? Why's that?"
I clear my throat. "I suppose if sex sells... this will have you raking in the cash."
Dimitri laughs. "Is this your opinion as my fan or my girlfriend?"
My face heats. "Both."
"Hmm." Dimitri leans towards me, his eyes flicking over the telltale blush in my cheeks. "Am I turning you on?" His voice is low, and that tone serves to magnify the effects of the song.
But still I opt for sarcasm, rolling my eyes. "Is water wet?"
"Yes," he smirks. "And apparently so are you."
The breath I was taking catches in my throat. His gorgeous face is still so close, and my heartbeat is erratic.
"Remember what I said about making it up to me?" I ask, looking up at him.
"Da, Roza. Starting now?"
"Please."
Author's Note
Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed the chapter (or if you didn't and want to leave constructive criticism) please let me know by leaving a review. It's always amazing to hear from you, and I genuinely appreciate all of your support. I have been able to update this fic fairly frequently (for me at least), but if you'd like to stay in the loop when I post, please feel free to favourite and follow.
I can't believe we're approaching the tail end of 2024 already. That means I'll have been writing this fic for two years in February? Absolutely wild. Especially considering I started it as a one shot. I know I say this every update now but honestly I appreciate you so much. Sure, I write because Rose and Dimitri are my comfort characters, but you guys are my main motivator to keep going. This is my longest fic, and I'm really proud of it, and I'm so grateful to be able to share with a wonderful community.
The VA universe and the characters therein are the sole intellectual property of Richelle Mead.