"But Papa, I don't want to go!" Grand Duchess Nataliya Elizabeth Alexandria Romanova tried to pout, but her father simply shook his head and took off his reading glasses.
"I'm sorry, darling, but it's all been arranged." Tsar Alexander Romanova told his only daughter and heir. "I must make this tour this year, and I'm not comfortable leaving you here alone. Not this time, malyshka." He rose from his chair and came around his large desk, reaching out to ruffle red curls. "Spring's come early this year, and it's better to have it done, da?" He grinned as she ducked away from him, huffing and pretending to roll her eyes.
"And I'd feel better if you were elsewhere, somewhere safe and fun, not stuck here in the palace for the rest of the winter," Alexander added, stepping to the sidebar and pouring himself a drink. "Besides, you love Malta. The beach, the lagoon, the swimming and the diving? It's one of your favorite places to visit."
The fifteen year old princess pouted a bit, but had to concede her father's point. "...da, I know," she huffed. "But I just really wanted to spend time with you, Papa." She contrived a little whine, reaching out to give her patron a brief hug. "We never get to be together anymore."
The Tsar returned the affection unhesitatingly, holding his daughter close for a moment, before pulling back enough to gaze down at her. "Tell you what, how about I join you there after the tour, da? We can spend a few weeks getting sunburned on the beach before coming back home for the summer, hm?"
Natalia squealed, clapped her hands in agreement, and hugged her father again, tighter this time. "Da, Papa, da-da!" She squeezed her father once more, then darted out of his study to gallop down the corridor towards her quarters, excited to share the news with her constant companion.
Nikolai always awaits word from the Tsar about where he’s headed or, more recently, from his charge. The Tsarina isn’t exactly shy about making her wishes known and he knows when she comes bounding down the hall, there’s news of where they’re going or something they’re doing that has to follow with her.
He sweeps the door open as she approaches, anticipating her flinging it wide otherwise, and lets a ghost of a smile touch his lips. She’s the only thing that he ever smiles about and even those are rare in public. In private, though, he feels a little safer with those emotions.
“Did you speak with His Excellency, Lisichka? Are we seeing him off tomorrow for his tour?”
Nikolai swung the door open just before she burst through it, and the adolescent princess flung her arms around her bodyguard's thick neck and swung around him in a circle, giggling with her glee. "I did!" she squealed, waiting until her feet again touched the ground and her breath to return before continuing.
"We'll actually be leaving at the same time. But while he's going on his annual State tour, we're going to Malta for the spring, and after he's done, he's going to join us there!" She clapped her hands then latched on to her guardian again, hugging him tight - tighter than she had her father.
"Isn't that just grand, Nikki?! He never vacations with us anymore." She squeezed Nikolai's neck tight, then spontaneously planted an affectionate kiss on his grizzled cheek. "But he promised!" she breathed at his ear, still a little breathless. Then kissed his scruffy cheek once more.
"So pack your swimsuit and your dive gear, moya zvezda, unless..." she paused, stepping away and glancing at his left arm, "it pains you too much to get in the water with me?" Her fine features melted into sympathy, and long, gentle fingers drifted just below the shoulder joint, where flesh met metal.
It does hurt to swim, yes, but there’s no way that Nikolai would ever say it out loud in front of the printsessa. He would never do anything to hurt her or bring her pain and he’ll swim until he aches if it means seeing happiness on her face.
Malta makes him happy. It’s a place with good memories for him with Natalia and the Tsar and he cannot help but be a little excited to go back for a while. He covers Natalia’s hand with his own.
“It doesn’t hurt, lisichka,” he promises her. “I’ll bring everything to go swimming and diving with you. It will be a boring trip until His Excellency comes, though. I’m just a frozen soldier.”
Her brow furrowed and she gave him a light swat when she heard his self-depreciation; she'd told him a thousand times over their years together that he was so much more than a "frozen soldier". No matter how she insisted otherwise, Nikolai always refuted her, seemingly determined to paint himself as lesser, hardly worth anything at all, regardless of how much he meant to her.
"Stop it," Natalia chided him, "you know how I hate hearing you say things like that." She stepped away to move through her expansive bedroom, tossing a duffel on the bed to begin her packing. The Tsar kept a house in Malta, so she didn't have to pack an entire wardrobe, thank goodness, but there were a few essentials that needed to make the trip. And she had finals in a few months, so lugging all of her school things was going to be a necessity, also.
Thank God for virtual lessons.
"We'll probably leave before he does, so we'll say our goodbyes at the airport tomorrow morning." She tossed a hairbrush into her travel bag. "Hopefully we won't have too long of a layover this time."
“Probably just to fuel up again. No need for customs or anything to come aboard,” Nikolai muses. He needs to get a copy of the flight plan, the cargo manifest, which airport they’d be refueling at, what security checkpoints they might encounter along the way - what would be just a fun jaunt to Malta for Natalia was a large set of logistics for him to chart out and keep track of and he wanted to be ahead of it before she started distracting him with something else.
“You’ll be writing your exams in a few weeks, too,” he gently reminds her. “So bring the books even if you don’t look at them. I know you think you know everything but sometimes I like to learn new things. Just pretend studying is teaching your Soldat something new because he’s old and stubborn.”
He thinks if he puts it that way, she might be a little more inclined to look at the books and not just throw them in for show.
She wasn't totally unaware of everything Nikolai did to ensure her safety. She'd watched him close over the years, and had picked up most of his tricks. At first, it had been a game; catching him off guard with her intimate knowledge of what he did and why he did it, but over the course of their time together, she'd begun to realize just how seriously he took his job, and how much he did to make sure she was totally and completely safe.
It was humbling, that this broken soldier, this broken man, cared so much about her.
At the mention of exams, however, Natalia's nose wrinkled and she made a rue face. "Spasibo," she stuck out her tongue briefly, "for reminding me. Oh well," she had to give up, because as usual, he was right. "Maybe I can get them done quickly and take an early summer. And I can convince Papa to stay longer, if we have the free time."
The princess laughed as she put more things in her duffel, tossing curls over her shoulder and saying lightly, "You know I like teaching you new things, Nikki. It's so fun to watch your face light up when something clicks in that geriatric mind of yours." Thrilled her right down to the core, it did. And she loved to study with him, to point out new and interesting things to share with her sweet, gentle guardian.
“Hard to teach an old wolf like me any new tricks,” Nikolai agrees. “So you’ll have to know the material really well if you’re going to get it into my thick skull. Unless it’s French - I can’t even lie about being bad about that. I’m too good at it to make the lie believable.”
Malta is a lovely country and his Italian is as good as his Maltese, a feat since the latter is spoken by such a smaller population. His French is useful there too, mostly among other vacationers, and Natalia can always stand to practice more in languages that aren’t Russian or English. It’s good for her as a head of state.
“Do you think I could make people think I’m actually French when we get to Malta? Do you think we should try it?”
"I'm sooo jealous of your French," Natalia told him, weaving around her large guardian as she went back and forth to her closet. "It just makes me mad, how easily that language rolls off of your tongue." She stuffed a favorite sundress into the duffel and flounced lightly, her sass on full display.
"But you probably could. At least the tourists, those who don't know who we are." Although escaping the paparazzi was always a bothersome chore, no matter where they went. Reporters loved snapping her photograph; Natalia had become resigned to it, but it always helped that Nikolai was more than ready to make any busybody who ventured too close eat his own camera.
She grinned at him, emerging from the closet with a handful of shoes. "Will you dress like one? We'll have to go shopping, then." Her mind's eye chose that moment to torture her with the picture of her Nikolai in a cream colored suit, smoking his thins with the jacket slung over his metal shoulder, and her breath caught.
"...you should," she heard herself say, a little breathless. And absently began stuffing shoes in her bag, distracted. "Nikki, you really should..."
“I’m not wearing anything I can’t wear guns under,” he warns her, not wanting her to get too wrapped up into whatever fantasy she was concocting. Some things just aren’t practical for what he does and he has to be wearing something for the most part. He can’t be a French Polynesian pearl diver or something who doesn’t wear anything but Speedos. Completely impractical.
“So if you stay practical, I’ll wear whatever you think is French. There’s plenty of French men who dress just like I dress right now.”
Perhaps not so many wear full tac gear with dozens of knives strapped to them but there’s some, certainly. Military at least. He could be one of those.
“If I have a place to hide my weapons, I’ll wear whatever you want, krasinaya printsessa.”
Natalia turned to look at him, hip cocked and one hand propped upon it. "You wear a shoulder rig beneath your suit jacket now," she told him saucily. "I was thinking something...cream colored, or tan." The princess sashayed over and grabbed her soldier by his lapels, pulling his jacket out and giving it a little wiggle.
"That would go well with your coloring. And maybe some loafers, instead of your clunky boots." One small bare foot pressed down on the toe of said boot. "And I'm always practical," she insisted, giving his coat a sharp tug. "You taught me that, remember?" Even if he'd allowed her to wear her princess ballerina dresses when she'd been just a little thing.
"Are you going to pack?" she asked him then. "It'll be supper soon, and you know how Papa likes to ramble on once he gets his brandy and cigar."
“Everything I own is always packed,” Nikolai says, tucking a wayward curl of her hair back. He shouldn’t touch her like this now that she’s older but he has a hard time remembering that he shouldn’t and what was acceptable with a little girl isn’t acceptable with a girl on the cusp of womanhood.
“My life is you. You put me in your bag with your hairbrushes and shoes and anything else you need. I keep everything in my duffel to go no matter what time of day or night it is. I’m supposed to be helping you pack, actually.”
He gives her a little half smile. “Is there going to be room for me in your bags? I’m a little tall.”
Had she been a true kitten, Natalia would have purred at the simple little touch, of her Nikki tucking a curl behind her small ear. As it was, she simply leaned into his hand and smiled, rubbing her cheek against his wrist as he spoke. "There's always room for you, moya zvezda," she replied in a soft little voice. "There always has been, and there always will be."
Natalia didn't hesitate to slide closer, insinuate her slim body into his arms, holding him close as she had for so many years before. He was her sweet soldier, her gentle, vulnerable Nikolai. They'd learned to comfort each other, during their time together. To trust and rely on the other.
She nuzzled her way beneath his chin; he was so much taller than her. But she felt so safe right here, with his strong arms holding her close. "I'm done packing," she murmured quietly. "All I need is you with me, and I'm good forever." He was so hard and unyielding against her, it was a silent thrill to feel him pressed tight against her.
"I probably need to tell Anya and Steffie that I'm leaving tomorrow, don't I?" Her two closest friends, as far as 'friends' went with a Russian princess.
The day of the Grand Duchess's birthday gala had dawned thankfully clear, since both the ballroom and the palace gardens would be needed to accommodate all of the guests. The week leading to the event had been hectic, with increased security everywhere, caterers coming and going, the palace staff in their own hurried, but experienced, flurry of activity, putting up decorations, directing the underlings hired for the duration, and making sure that the rest of the household ran on its own timely schedule.
Thus far, the night had gone smoothly. The Imperial Princess had been dressed, primped, primed, and made completely up for the occasion, her blue and gold birthday gown fitting her like a second skin, leaving no question whatsoever that she was a woman grown, and the silver and gold crown nestled amid her deep red curls as if it belonged nowhere else. Her father had been ecstatic, naming her his one and only heir, now that she'd come of age in their kingdom, and the champagne and vodka had cascaded like a waterfall.
Dignitaries mingled, ministers congregated, and the Tsar and his wan Tsarina sat above the throng, visiting with their subjects here and there, and joining in the revelries when tradition allowed. The Princess had done her duty also; she'd mingled with her "friends", danced with those foppish boys her father steered in her direction, and opened the presents stacked high in a corner of the ballroom, each and every one having been meticulously checked and re-checked by both Imperial Security and her own beloved Nikolai.
At the current moment, however, Grand Duchess Natalia, the birthday girl and woman of the hour, was down on her knees with her lover's cock deep in her mouth, keeping him pressed back against the locked door of the changing room near the pool. She'd whispered to him a quarter hour ago to inform Officer Petrov that he was taking her from the gala to give her his own birthday gift, and he'd be disconnected from comms for the duration. Then she'd led him out of the ballroom and across the palace grounds to the most private place she'd found, and locked them both in.
And had wasted not a moment in shoving him against that door and yanking those fitted trousers open and down, all the better to slurp him right into her eager mouth. Since their first "interlude" at the izba, they'd made a habit of stealing out there at least every other day, and each and every night she had to bite her knuckles to keep from screaming and giving away their sensual, sexual secret. But she'd learned her lessons well over the fortnight since she'd returned to the Winter Palace, and it never failed to serve her well.
She loved him, he was hers, and she wanted to prove it in any way that she could. She knew he disliked having to share her with the rest of the country, thus she'd scandalously wanted to make it up to him before the gala's end, hence her girlish enthusiasm as she worked him deep, moaning around his hard shaft pistoning in and out of her mouth. Natalia knew that he loved this; she felt him trembling already, so very weak to the feel of her hot mouth and slick tongue slurping over and around his aching cock.
Nikolai hadn't expected this to happen in the middle of the gala itself. Afterward, certainly, but the danger of it happening in the midst of so many people and with the Tsar himself in presence added a thrill to it that he didn't realize he actually liked. He was paranoid, yes, but even that made this so much sweeter.
He has his right hand firm on her shoulder, squeezing it when it feels too good to handle, and he lets out a soft moan when he thrusts and hits the back of her throat.
Natalia mewled, hearing that, and tightened her lips further, sucking long and slow as she lifted her head, determined to tear him right apart. She'd learned how to guide him and out of her mouth, how to relax her jaw so she could take him even deeper, and how to control her breathing so she didn't choke when he filled her mouth and most of her throat.
It was filthy, debauched, but she loved it. Loved the thrill of the forbidden, and the fact that with no one else could she be this way. Nikolai loved her, and he was her willing slave. And also her greatest teacher. Again and again her red head lowered and lifted, firm little hands pressing into his bare hips to urge his thrusts between her lips.
Finally, she held her breath after a large inhale and sucked hard, one hand sneaking between his legs to squeeze and fondle the heavy sack, feeling it thick and tight just for her.
It's too much when she sucks one time, hard, and touches him at the same time. He wants to warn her that he's coming but it comes too quickly and he does, coming white hot against the back of her throat. God, but there's no one who could get him this way but Natalia.
Nikolai lets out a sharp breath he didn't know he was holding and he wants to thrust his hand into her hair but he doesn't want to muss it. Not tonight. Not when they could get caught.
"You are absolutely in trouble for this," he says, voice weak. She's not, but he has to put up the act.
The little princess drank him down, licking her lips when she finally lifted her head, and smirked like a fiend. "You going to spank me?" she asked, tone sizzling with naughty desire. She even winked. "You know I'd beg you to, Nikolai." She returned to her feet gingerly; four inch heels were precarious even for an expert.
A touch with a tissue and a rinse of her mouth put everything back aright again, although she did turn and prop her rear up on the marble counter, leaning back a little salaciously on her hands. "How much trouble?" she purred. The sleek dress did nothing to conceal the fact that the Grand Duchess wasn't visibly wearing a bra, and full breasts were ripe for the having, and the gown did damn little to hide creamy thighs and shapely calves, evidenced even more when she crossed her legs, so prim despite her definitely devilish air.
Crown still nestled atop her scarlet tresses, Natalia casually flicked a stray curl over her shoulder, giving her delectable lover a smoldering look beneath dark lashes. "I want you, Nikolai," she told him, breathing his name in her lust-laced voice. "Right here, and right now."
"I just came, printsessa," Nikolai murmurs. "You can't have all of me right this second. Even I need a moment to recover. But I have other things I can do to you."
He trips the fingers of his left hand along her thigh and watches her face, trying to see how she feels about the cool titanium against her skin instead of the warm flesh of his right hand. It's a little different, yes, but it's still part of him and he doesn't want to be afraid of it any longer.
"What does the printsessa want for her birthday? She ought to ask explicitly."
One elegant eyebrow arched over those heated green eyes. "You know good and well what the printessa wants, Nikolai." The glide of smooth metal against her warm skin was tantalizing, and she brazenly uncrossed her knees and parted them invitingly, giving her head a little saucy toss.
"But if you want me to say it," she sassed back, chin lifted imperiously, "then I want you to fuck me, Nikki, right here on this counter. Shove this dress up to my waist and try to make me scream, but keep me from doing it." Natalia licked her lips, a slow, sultry challenge.
"With that metal hand, or your mouth, or your cock, I don't care which."
Nikolai kneels and spreads her knees wider, sliding his metal fingers higher up on her thigh before licking a filthy line between damp folds. He loves doing this for her and he loves the taste of her. There's nothing that tastes as good as his printsessa.
"I'm going to make you have to muffle your screams," he murmurs. "And I'm going to make you wish you had my cock before I'm done. But you'll get that later. Right now, you get this. You can beg for anything you need, though, and I'll see if I can satisfy you. See if I'm enough."
Her breath hitched in sheer delight when her Nikolai dropped to his knees in front of her and shoved her thighs apart. She'd deliberately dispensed with panties tonight for this exact reason, although she'd pretended that underwear lines ruined the fit of the gown. But she'd had the vision of Nikolai's dark head delving between her spread legs while dressing earlier, and it'd very nearly taken her breath away.
As it did right now.
The little princess bit her knuckle, leaning back further on her opposite hand, wiggling so that the fitted dress worked higher along her thighs, the better to spread them wide, lithe, lush hips rolling as much as they could as she begged with her body. Swallowing him earlier had made her so very wet, needy, and she wanted him inside her and thrusting more than she could articulate. This would do for now, however. That sensuous tongue was its own devastating weapon to her frazzled senses.
Now that he'd let himself go, Nikolai focuses on his printsessa to an alarming degree, always drawn to her side. Right now, he spreads her with his fingers so he can lave his tongue against her, tasting her full on his lips the way he's been craving all night. He's going to tease, he thinks, and make her mad.
He bends his fingers and works her clit between his knuckles, sliding easily with how wet she is, and pauses only to work the tip of his tongue against her. Intense, then draw away, over and over.
She bit her knuckle again on a muted squeal, bucking her hips upwards. But she had to take her finger out of her mouth before she drew blood, and having to answer questions about teeth marks on her hand wasn't in her agenda for the night. Neither was trying to smooth out creases in the sequined gown, but Natalia couldn't help but grope a full breast, teasing and tugging at the aching flesh in time with Nikolai's talented tongue.
Her head fell back, long curls trailing over the marble countertop. "...Nikki..." His name ended on a high, whining moan, the little princess dropping to her elbow in effort to splay herself even more for him. "--oh, oh, malyshka, that's so good...mmmm, I love you so much...Nikolai..." Slim thighs, creamy and smooth, trembled on either side of his head; he never ceased to drive her absolutely wild.
Nikolai is torn between finishing her like this and giving her his cock and he plays with her clit a little more, just teasing, before standing and sliding his cock into her in one fluid motion.
He leans in and whispers against her ear, "Happy birthday, printsessa" before drawing away and pushing back in deep. God, but he loves her, and this is not going to end well. She'll have to leave him someday and he knows that.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Tsarina AU
"But Papa, I don't want to go!" Grand Duchess Nataliya Elizabeth Alexandria Romanova tried to pout, but her father simply shook his head and took off his reading glasses.
"I'm sorry, darling, but it's all been arranged." Tsar Alexander Romanova told his only daughter and heir. "I must make this tour this year, and I'm not comfortable leaving you here alone. Not this time, malyshka." He rose from his chair and came around his large desk, reaching out to ruffle red curls. "Spring's come early this year, and it's better to have it done, da?" He grinned as she ducked away from him, huffing and pretending to roll her eyes.
"And I'd feel better if you were elsewhere, somewhere safe and fun, not stuck here in the palace for the rest of the winter," Alexander added, stepping to the sidebar and pouring himself a drink. "Besides, you love Malta. The beach, the lagoon, the swimming and the diving? It's one of your favorite places to visit."
The fifteen year old princess pouted a bit, but had to concede her father's point. "...da, I know," she huffed. "But I just really wanted to spend time with you, Papa." She contrived a little whine, reaching out to give her patron a brief hug. "We never get to be together anymore."
The Tsar returned the affection unhesitatingly, holding his daughter close for a moment, before pulling back enough to gaze down at her. "Tell you what, how about I join you there after the tour, da? We can spend a few weeks getting sunburned on the beach before coming back home for the summer, hm?"
Natalia squealed, clapped her hands in agreement, and hugged her father again, tighter this time. "Da, Papa, da-da!" She squeezed her father once more, then darted out of his study to gallop down the corridor towards her quarters, excited to share the news with her constant companion.
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Nikolai always awaits word from the Tsar about where he’s headed or, more recently, from his charge. The Tsarina isn’t exactly shy about making her wishes known and he knows when she comes bounding down the hall, there’s news of where they’re going or something they’re doing that has to follow with her.
He sweeps the door open as she approaches, anticipating her flinging it wide otherwise, and lets a ghost of a smile touch his lips. She’s the only thing that he ever smiles about and even those are rare in public. In private, though, he feels a little safer with those emotions.
“Did you speak with His Excellency, Lisichka? Are we seeing him off tomorrow for his tour?”
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"We'll actually be leaving at the same time. But while he's going on his annual State tour, we're going to Malta for the spring, and after he's done, he's going to join us there!" She clapped her hands then latched on to her guardian again, hugging him tight - tighter than she had her father.
"Isn't that just grand, Nikki?! He never vacations with us anymore." She squeezed Nikolai's neck tight, then spontaneously planted an affectionate kiss on his grizzled cheek. "But he promised!" she breathed at his ear, still a little breathless. Then kissed his scruffy cheek once more.
"So pack your swimsuit and your dive gear, moya zvezda, unless..." she paused, stepping away and glancing at his left arm, "it pains you too much to get in the water with me?" Her fine features melted into sympathy, and long, gentle fingers drifted just below the shoulder joint, where flesh met metal.
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It does hurt to swim, yes, but there’s no way that Nikolai would ever say it out loud in front of the printsessa. He would never do anything to hurt her or bring her pain and he’ll swim until he aches if it means seeing happiness on her face.
Malta makes him happy. It’s a place with good memories for him with Natalia and the Tsar and he cannot help but be a little excited to go back for a while. He covers Natalia’s hand with his own.
“It doesn’t hurt, lisichka,” he promises her. “I’ll bring everything to go swimming and diving with you. It will be a boring trip until His Excellency comes, though. I’m just a frozen soldier.”
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"Stop it," Natalia chided him, "you know how I hate hearing you say things like that." She stepped away to move through her expansive bedroom, tossing a duffel on the bed to begin her packing. The Tsar kept a house in Malta, so she didn't have to pack an entire wardrobe, thank goodness, but there were a few essentials that needed to make the trip. And she had finals in a few months, so lugging all of her school things was going to be a necessity, also.
Thank God for virtual lessons.
"We'll probably leave before he does, so we'll say our goodbyes at the airport tomorrow morning." She tossed a hairbrush into her travel bag. "Hopefully we won't have too long of a layover this time."
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“Probably just to fuel up again. No need for customs or anything to come aboard,” Nikolai muses. He needs to get a copy of the flight plan, the cargo manifest, which airport they’d be refueling at, what security checkpoints they might encounter along the way - what would be just a fun jaunt to Malta for Natalia was a large set of logistics for him to chart out and keep track of and he wanted to be ahead of it before she started distracting him with something else.
“You’ll be writing your exams in a few weeks, too,” he gently reminds her. “So bring the books even if you don’t look at them. I know you think you know everything but sometimes I like to learn new things. Just pretend studying is teaching your Soldat something new because he’s old and stubborn.”
He thinks if he puts it that way, she might be a little more inclined to look at the books and not just throw them in for show.
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It was humbling, that this broken soldier, this broken man, cared so much about her.
At the mention of exams, however, Natalia's nose wrinkled and she made a rue face. "Spasibo," she stuck out her tongue briefly, "for reminding me. Oh well," she had to give up, because as usual, he was right. "Maybe I can get them done quickly and take an early summer. And I can convince Papa to stay longer, if we have the free time."
The princess laughed as she put more things in her duffel, tossing curls over her shoulder and saying lightly, "You know I like teaching you new things, Nikki. It's so fun to watch your face light up when something clicks in that geriatric mind of yours." Thrilled her right down to the core, it did. And she loved to study with him, to point out new and interesting things to share with her sweet, gentle guardian.
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Malta is a lovely country and his Italian is as good as his Maltese, a feat since the latter is spoken by such a smaller population. His French is useful there too, mostly among other vacationers, and Natalia can always stand to practice more in languages that aren’t Russian or English. It’s good for her as a head of state.
“Do you think I could make people think I’m actually French when we get to Malta? Do you think we should try it?”
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"But you probably could. At least the tourists, those who don't know who we are." Although escaping the paparazzi was always a bothersome chore, no matter where they went. Reporters loved snapping her photograph; Natalia had become resigned to it, but it always helped that Nikolai was more than ready to make any busybody who ventured too close eat his own camera.
She grinned at him, emerging from the closet with a handful of shoes. "Will you dress like one? We'll have to go shopping, then." Her mind's eye chose that moment to torture her with the picture of her Nikolai in a cream colored suit, smoking his thins with the jacket slung over his metal shoulder, and her breath caught.
"...you should," she heard herself say, a little breathless. And absently began stuffing shoes in her bag, distracted. "Nikki, you really should..."
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“So if you stay practical, I’ll wear whatever you think is French. There’s plenty of French men who dress just like I dress right now.”
Perhaps not so many wear full tac gear with dozens of knives strapped to them but there’s some, certainly. Military at least. He could be one of those.
“If I have a place to hide my weapons, I’ll wear whatever you want, krasinaya printsessa.”
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"That would go well with your coloring. And maybe some loafers, instead of your clunky boots." One small bare foot pressed down on the toe of said boot. "And I'm always practical," she insisted, giving his coat a sharp tug. "You taught me that, remember?" Even if he'd allowed her to wear her princess ballerina dresses when she'd been just a little thing.
"Are you going to pack?" she asked him then. "It'll be supper soon, and you know how Papa likes to ramble on once he gets his brandy and cigar."
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“My life is you. You put me in your bag with your hairbrushes and shoes and anything else you need. I keep everything in my duffel to go no matter what time of day or night it is. I’m supposed to be helping you pack, actually.”
He gives her a little half smile. “Is there going to be room for me in your bags? I’m a little tall.”
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Natalia didn't hesitate to slide closer, insinuate her slim body into his arms, holding him close as she had for so many years before. He was her sweet soldier, her gentle, vulnerable Nikolai. They'd learned to comfort each other, during their time together. To trust and rely on the other.
She nuzzled her way beneath his chin; he was so much taller than her. But she felt so safe right here, with his strong arms holding her close. "I'm done packing," she murmured quietly. "All I need is you with me, and I'm good forever." He was so hard and unyielding against her, it was a silent thrill to feel him pressed tight against her.
"I probably need to tell Anya and Steffie that I'm leaving tomorrow, don't I?" Her two closest friends, as far as 'friends' went with a Russian princess.
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no subject
Thus far, the night had gone smoothly. The Imperial Princess had been dressed, primped, primed, and made completely up for the occasion, her blue and gold birthday gown fitting her like a second skin, leaving no question whatsoever that she was a woman grown, and the silver and gold crown nestled amid her deep red curls as if it belonged nowhere else. Her father had been ecstatic, naming her his one and only heir, now that she'd come of age in their kingdom, and the champagne and vodka had cascaded like a waterfall.
Dignitaries mingled, ministers congregated, and the Tsar and his wan Tsarina sat above the throng, visiting with their subjects here and there, and joining in the revelries when tradition allowed. The Princess had done her duty also; she'd mingled with her "friends", danced with those foppish boys her father steered in her direction, and opened the presents stacked high in a corner of the ballroom, each and every one having been meticulously checked and re-checked by both Imperial Security and her own beloved Nikolai.
At the current moment, however, Grand Duchess Natalia, the birthday girl and woman of the hour, was down on her knees with her lover's cock deep in her mouth, keeping him pressed back against the locked door of the changing room near the pool. She'd whispered to him a quarter hour ago to inform Officer Petrov that he was taking her from the gala to give her his own birthday gift, and he'd be disconnected from comms for the duration. Then she'd led him out of the ballroom and across the palace grounds to the most private place she'd found, and locked them both in.
And had wasted not a moment in shoving him against that door and yanking those fitted trousers open and down, all the better to slurp him right into her eager mouth. Since their first "interlude" at the izba, they'd made a habit of stealing out there at least every other day, and each and every night she had to bite her knuckles to keep from screaming and giving away their sensual, sexual secret. But she'd learned her lessons well over the fortnight since she'd returned to the Winter Palace, and it never failed to serve her well.
She loved him, he was hers, and she wanted to prove it in any way that she could. She knew he disliked having to share her with the rest of the country, thus she'd scandalously wanted to make it up to him before the gala's end, hence her girlish enthusiasm as she worked him deep, moaning around his hard shaft pistoning in and out of her mouth. Natalia knew that he loved this; she felt him trembling already, so very weak to the feel of her hot mouth and slick tongue slurping over and around his aching cock.
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He has his right hand firm on her shoulder, squeezing it when it feels too good to handle, and he lets out a soft moan when he thrusts and hits the back of her throat.
""m close," he murmurs. "So, so close."
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It was filthy, debauched, but she loved it. Loved the thrill of the forbidden, and the fact that with no one else could she be this way. Nikolai loved her, and he was her willing slave. And also her greatest teacher. Again and again her red head lowered and lifted, firm little hands pressing into his bare hips to urge his thrusts between her lips.
Finally, she held her breath after a large inhale and sucked hard, one hand sneaking between his legs to squeeze and fondle the heavy sack, feeling it thick and tight just for her.
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Nikolai lets out a sharp breath he didn't know he was holding and he wants to thrust his hand into her hair but he doesn't want to muss it. Not tonight. Not when they could get caught.
"You are absolutely in trouble for this," he says, voice weak. She's not, but he has to put up the act.
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A touch with a tissue and a rinse of her mouth put everything back aright again, although she did turn and prop her rear up on the marble counter, leaning back a little salaciously on her hands. "How much trouble?" she purred. The sleek dress did nothing to conceal the fact that the Grand Duchess wasn't visibly wearing a bra, and full breasts were ripe for the having, and the gown did damn little to hide creamy thighs and shapely calves, evidenced even more when she crossed her legs, so prim despite her definitely devilish air.
Crown still nestled atop her scarlet tresses, Natalia casually flicked a stray curl over her shoulder, giving her delectable lover a smoldering look beneath dark lashes. "I want you, Nikolai," she told him, breathing his name in her lust-laced voice. "Right here, and right now."
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He trips the fingers of his left hand along her thigh and watches her face, trying to see how she feels about the cool titanium against her skin instead of the warm flesh of his right hand. It's a little different, yes, but it's still part of him and he doesn't want to be afraid of it any longer.
"What does the printsessa want for her birthday? She ought to ask explicitly."
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"But if you want me to say it," she sassed back, chin lifted imperiously, "then I want you to fuck me, Nikki, right here on this counter. Shove this dress up to my waist and try to make me scream, but keep me from doing it." Natalia licked her lips, a slow, sultry challenge.
"With that metal hand, or your mouth, or your cock, I don't care which."
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"I'm going to make you have to muffle your screams," he murmurs. "And I'm going to make you wish you had my cock before I'm done. But you'll get that later. Right now, you get this. You can beg for anything you need, though, and I'll see if I can satisfy you. See if I'm enough."
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As it did right now.
The little princess bit her knuckle, leaning back further on her opposite hand, wiggling so that the fitted dress worked higher along her thighs, the better to spread them wide, lithe, lush hips rolling as much as they could as she begged with her body. Swallowing him earlier had made her so very wet, needy, and she wanted him inside her and thrusting more than she could articulate. This would do for now, however. That sensuous tongue was its own devastating weapon to her frazzled senses.
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He bends his fingers and works her clit between his knuckles, sliding easily with how wet she is, and pauses only to work the tip of his tongue against her. Intense, then draw away, over and over.
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Her head fell back, long curls trailing over the marble countertop. "...Nikki..." His name ended on a high, whining moan, the little princess dropping to her elbow in effort to splay herself even more for him. "--oh, oh, malyshka, that's so good...mmmm, I love you so much...Nikolai..." Slim thighs, creamy and smooth, trembled on either side of his head; he never ceased to drive her absolutely wild.
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He leans in and whispers against her ear, "Happy birthday, printsessa" before drawing away and pushing back in deep. God, but he loves her, and this is not going to end well. She'll have to leave him someday and he knows that.
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