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Genya stood outside the door to David’s bedroom, fingers nervously toying with a loose thread in the embroidery of her kefta. It was ironic; for once in her life, she had no fear of being used against her will.
No, tonight, she was afraid of a polite refusal.
David had made his feelings for her clear in the way that only David could: pure facts, stated straightforwardly and without embellishment. She knew he found her desirable in all the ways that mattered to him. He had told her so, and David didn’t lie. She wasn’t sure whether he actually could not lie or just didn’t bother to. He was entirely different from any man she had ever met, in such wonderful and unexpected ways. And, best of all, he loved her.
So, why was she so nervous?
Genya had spent all her life dodging men’s advances or faking smiles at them, following orders, keeping silent when bidden. She had been reduced to poisoning her own skin, rather than raising a hand or her voice in her own defense. Now, she was finally free to start anew with someone who had never asked her for anything. He had never flirted with her or tried to touch her without her say-so. She was safe.
She was respected.
She had no idea how to navigate that.
What if he had not made advances because he didn’t want her--or anyone--in that way? If he wasn't interested in physical relationships it wouldn’t mean that he did not love her. And yet, and yet-- it was perversely important to Genya that David did want her. She wanted him to have held back not out of disinterest, but out of respect. She wanted him to have waited for her permission, and now she wanted to give that permission.
She was terrified that he would say no. That he’d take yet another choice away from her.
Waiting would accomplish nothing. If she had the courage to face the king, she had the courage to face the man she loved.
Genya set her jaw and knocked.
It was a moment before David answered. He had clearly already undressed for bed; his kefta was now hastily thrown on unbelted over his undershirt and drawers. He still had ink stains dotting his hand and chin. He blinked at her a few times in confusion and then smiled.
Genya thought he might be the most tempting sight that she had ever seen.
“May I come in?” she asked. He stepped back to let her pass through the doorway. Like all of them, his room was small and sparsely furnished, but he had managed to fill the corners with books, piles of paper, and sundry alchemical instruments. He picked up a stack of papers off a crate, motioning for her to sit down upon it.
Genya took the papers back out of his hands and replaced them where they had been. She had thought about this a hundred times. She knew that unlike many men, her presence in his room alone would not lead him to assume she was asking for something. She would need to be direct. She would need to make it clear what she wanted.
Saints, this was nerve-wracking.
“Genya?” he asked, that little wrinkle starting to form between his brows. She stepped forward, and without preamble, she kissed him.
The first time she had done this, it had been impulsive, a fierce meeting of mouths that had taken him entirely by surprise. She had felt his gasp, and his immediate response-- mirroring the motions of her mouth, her tongue, his arms coming around her to hold her. It had felt like a victory, like a catharsis.
This time, it felt like coming home. His response was just as instinctive as the first time: a deep, almost inaudible moan into her mouth, a hand coming up to caress her hair. It should not be so important to her, this assurance that he wanted her, but it was. It was.
For so long, she had hated being desirable, hated the price she paid for it in her own abuse and degradation. But David’s desire for her was different. It was not a demand; it was the sweetest of gifts.
When they finally parted to breathe, she could see the flush on David’s cheeks in the dim light of the room. “Genya,” he asked, his voice slightly rough with arousal, “would you like to begin a sexual relationship with me?”
Her nervousness, the unexpected joy of this question, the adorable seriousness with which he asked it-- it was too much, and Genya burst into giggles. David swallowed hard and began to move away from her, but she did not let go. “I’m not laughing at you,” she tried to say, unable to stop laughing. “Yes. Yes, I would. I just… oh, David. Oh, Saints. I don’t think anyone has ever said that to me before.”
David looked away, the line of his mouth hardening. “You should always have the chance to say no,” he told her quietly but passionately. “You will always have the chance to say no.”
Her heart ached a little at the pain she could hear in his voice. All the hours they had worked together, all the times he had worked beside her as she had mixed the poison salve, knowing, knowing what it was for, unable to do anything. His face had always been carefully blank, his tone of voice even. But she could feel his rage now, in the slight shaking of his hands, the tension of his shoulders. She let herself melt into his arms, and he held her close. His hands found her hair again, running his fingers through it.
"I don't know how other people do it," David said, "putting feelings into words. I don't have words for what I feel for you. But… I want to try to show you."
She held him more tightly for a moment, then glanced up at him. He wore an expression she had seen countless times before-- it was how he looked when he was faced with a challenge: mingled determination and excitement. Seeing that look made her heart stutter, and realizing that he meant to devote all of his considerable focus and creativity to the task of making love to her…
"Oh," she breathed. She could feel liquid heat pooling low in her belly. "I'd… like that. Very much."
He lifted his hand to touch her cheek, lightly, just the tips of his fingers. Her skin tingled as he grazed his fingertips down the lines of her throat. She realized that she was blushing, and he was tracing the flush as it spread. Then, to her shock, he made eye contact for a moment. David never did that-- it made him intensely uncomfortable, he'd told her once.
"David?" she asked, uncertain what this meant.
"I'm observing signs of arousal," he explained. "Dilated pupils, flushed skin." His fingers paused to rest on her pulse point. "Elevated heart rate." Genya shivered and reached up to run her fingers over his forearm, pressing into the artery at his wrist. His heart was pounding as well.
"A promising start," she said, and realized there was a new smile forming on her lips, one she'd never given before, hot and unguarded. "David, have you studied this?"
"In some detail," he assured her. "The royal library contains several manuals on technique."
Genya had not known this, but somehow she was not surprised. "Did the manuals have detailed enough instructions for the removal of clothing," she asked coyly, "or would a demonstration be helpful?" This was another new feeling, the power of being able to tease. It was heady and exultant and she loved it.
David swallowed hard and cleared his throat. "Please," he said, taking a step back. Genya felt another little thrill curl through her. She slowly pulled the first fastening of her kefta through its loop, then the second. His dark eyes fixed first on her hands and then the widening sliver of skin at her throat. Genya undid another fastening, revealing the simple lace trim of her chemise and the edge of her stays. She kept her eyes on him, watching his breath quicken. She took a deep breath, then continued, her hands deliberate and surprisingly steady. David did not move, did not try to touch, only gazed at her as if she were the most wonderful thing in the world.
When it was finally unfastened, Genya slid the heavy fabric from her shoulders and laid it atop the pile of papers on the crate. The red color of the fabric comforted her. She no longer wore the white of a servant. She was a Corporalnik, a member of the highest order. She served only Ravka now.
And at this moment, in the safe, homey clutter of David's room, she removed her stays and he looked at her like she was a goddess, and he was ready to worship.
She stepped forward, looked up at him, and smiled, feeling suddenly shy in the face of such open adoration. David raised his hands to the collar of his own kefta, which he had never properly fastened, and glanced at her for permission.
She nodded and he slid it from his shoulders, letting it pool on the floor; then, after another encouraging smile from her, pulled his undershirt over his head as well. Genya reached out and laid a hand on his chest, dark hair and warm skin. He shut his eyes, and she closed hers too for a moment. She could feel him, not just with her hand, but with her powers-- the vibrant health of his body from his constant work with the Small Science. She lowered her hands to his drawers and unbuttoned them, taking her time as she gently tugged them down to admire the narrow hips, well-shaped thighs, and the hard, flushed cock that swelled even more under her gaze. She gave him a gentle push.
"Bed," she said, and he quickly stepped out of his drawers and took a few steps back and sat down on his cot. He smoothed the blanket nervously. She sat down beside him and laid her hands on his shoulders, trailing them down his arms. David shivered and once again, she felt the power she wielded over him.
He reached for her and tilted her face up, lowering his lips to hers. She returned the kiss passionately, gasping as his lips parted for her tongue. The kiss was wild, deeply sensual and a little messy in their enthusiasm. He cupped her face with both hands now, and she gripped his arms tightly. They sat on his bed, making out like the teenagers they had never had the chance to properly be.
David grew bolder, his hands coming to rest on Genya's waist and then suddenly, delightfully, pulling her into his lap. She ran her fingers through his hair, savoring the little sighs it drew from him when her nails grazed his scalp. It felt so good being in his arms, held against the solid support of his body, and she told him so.
"You feel good too," David said, breaking away for a moment, then returned to her lips as if he could not resist them before adding, breathlessly, "I've imagined this."
"And when you imagine it," Genya asked, running her fingers over the short, sensitive hairs at the nape of his neck, making him inhale sharply, "What do you do next?"
“This.” He pressed his lips to her throat. Her lips parted and her eyes fluttered shut as he trailed kisses down her throat. He traced a tendon with his tongue, drawing a moan from her. As he continued, she realized that he was finding the most sensitive spots to come back to, testing different types of touch-- the softest brush of his lips, open-mouthed kisses, gentle grazes of his teeth-- and learning her reactions. By the time he made his way down to her shoulder, he had worked out precisely how she best liked her skin to be kissed. She was squirming on his lap, making little sounds of pleasure and feeling like the luckiest girl in the world.
He slid his fingers under one of the straps of her chemise, gently running the backs of them over her skin. “May I?” he asked, his lips brushing her collarbone as he spoke.
“Yes,” she whispered, sliding from his lap onto the cot, and he carefully pulled down the thin fabric from her shoulders. Genya shut her eyes. She realized that he must know that the scars extended over her entire body. It seemed everyone knew; the other Corporalki who had tried to help her heal the damage had not been discreet. As a Tailor, Genya knew how high a value men put on a woman’s breasts being unblemished and smooth. David was not always like other men, but…
David did not bother with looking. He buried his face in them, inhaling the scent of her skin. The slight roughness of his cheeks as he rubbed his face against them like a cat was startling but not unpleasant. Apparently he liked them? She grinned affectionately despite herself. He reached up and cupped one; his own hand was hardly unblemished, scarred and callused from his experiments. In his hand, her breast looked pale and soft despite the lacing of scars that marred the skin. David ran a thumb very slowly over the peak of her nipple, making her breath catch. He began kissing and touching her breasts then, the same way he had her neck-- careful experimentation to see what she liked best-- and she sighed and sank back onto his pillow. He moved his mouth to her nipples to continue his study of how to make her gasp and arch into his mouth.
Genya kept expecting him to stop, to move on, but he continued for what felt like ages, until her breasts felt heavy and swollen and she was arching into his mouth and crying out softly. She'd never imagined they could feel this sensitive. She was shockingly wet now, unable to keep from rocking her hips up toward him. When he finally drew her shift the rest of the way off, his hands caressed her sides, her hips, the length of her thighs.
David pressed his face into her stomach, laying soft, worshipful kisses in a circle around her navel.
"Genya," he asked, his hand sliding up her thigh, "May I use my hands and mouth on you?"
He wanted to; she could hear it in his voice. Having someone's mouth there would be entirely new for her--and almost frighteningly intimate. But she'd listened to the kitchen girls gossiping about their lovers, and a partner's eagerness to give them oral sex won the very highest of praise. For a moment, her curiosity battled her self-consciousness-- curiosity won. She deserved to understand why even the married women among the palace staff made excuses to visit the gardens when Karol was working. Genya nodded down at him, blushing hot and red.
"Tell me if you want me to stop," he said, and she caressed his hair adoringly. He leaned into her hand for a second, then bent to press his mouth to her hip, his hands parting her thighs. She shut her eyes, feeling herself blushing, not sure if he was looking at her and not quite wanting to know. He brushed his lips against her inner thigh and she could feel her heart racing and anticipation curling hot and tight in her stomach.
She felt his fingers first, gentle, brushing over her center, spreading her open. She was suspended on a taut wire, trembling inside, as his breath brushed across her most sensitive parts. Then he pressed the softest, most tender kiss directly to her clit and heat lanced through her like lightning. Oh, Saints.
His open mouth covered her and she made a choked, helpless sound. His mouth was warm and wet,slow as honey. He sucked gently, his tongue pressing against swollen flesh and making her forget to breathe for a moment. He licked her with exquisite care, tracing circles that dragged whimpers from her lips. It was like nothing she’d ever felt, this soft, shivery, impossible pleasure. Her hands found his hair, pressing him tightly against her. She wanted this to never end but at the same time she needed more.
She could feel his breathing quicken at her response and he slid his hands under her to cradle her hips, to hold her more firmly to his mouth. The intimacy, the vulnerability of this act swamped her senses again for a moment. She squeezed her eyes shut and half-hid her face in her shoulder With another soft flicker of his tongue, though, he chased away everything but need . David’s tongue was clever and gentle, and slowly but surely unraveling her until she was incapable of coherent thought. The pleasure built, sweet and steady and unstoppable. Now, though, he paused; his fingers were at her entrance, and he made an indistinct but questioning sound that vibrated through her in a spike of pleasure.
“Yes,” Genya gasped. He pressed them into her, making her arch, which pressed her more firmly against his stroking tongue, and then he curled his fingers just right and-- “ Oh! Oh, oh, Saints--”
It swept over her like the tide, smooth and encompassing, carrying her up to a perfect, trembling peak of sensation. Then the tide ebbed in long, luxurious aftershocks that radiated from her scalp to the tips of her toes. She breathed his name on the end of a drawn-out moan. He made a soft sound of satisfaction against her, as if he too could feel her pleasure.
David slowed his motions, precise licks becoming lazy swipes of his tongue, his fingers moving only very slightly inside of her, and it still felt so good that she lay there and basked in it-- this feeling of being worshipped and cared for. She ran her hands through his hair.
“You’re... perfect,” he said quietly, running his tongue over her between words and making her shiver.
“Shouldn’t-- I be the one telling you that?” Genya asked, her voice breaking as slowly, startlingly, heat began to build in her once more from his lazy caresses.
“I’m not perfect yet ,” David told her, pulling back slightly to watch her face. His tone was calm, but the roughness of his breathing and the intensity of his expression revealed how very affected he’d been by what they’d just done. “But I hope to become so... with practice.” He slowly began to thrust his fingers deeper inside her again and Genya moaned. His eyes stayed fixed on her face as he found the perfect angle, the base of his hand pressing against her clit every time his fingers bottomed out in her. He was licking his lips, and her brain nearly shorted out when she realized he was tasting her on them.
When he lowered his mouth to her again, she gave up all attempts to keep quiet or to keep her hips still. Judging from the way he moaned into her and redoubled his efforts, he enjoyed it. This time, it was not slow-building and dreamlike. It was carnal and intense-- he used everything he’d learned about her body the first time to devastating effect. When Genya came for a second time, it felt as if her body could not possibly hold this much profound, shattering sensation. She sobbed out David’s name breathlessly as she arched and shuddered and collapsed in a sweaty, panting, sated heap.
He placed a soft kiss on the thigh that was still hooked over his shoulder, replacing her leg gently on the bed, and then unselfconsciously wiped the lower half of his face on the sheet and moved up to pull her into his arms. She clung to him, pressing messy kisses to his throat, still making little sounds of pleasure as sharp little aftershocks reverberated through her.
He nuzzled her forehead softly and stroked a hand down her back. His fingers trailed over her spine down to the small of her back to press her more firmly against him. She nestled into his arms, feeling her thundering heartbeat gradually slow with each little caress.
He was still hard against her thigh, hot and swollen. She could feel his pulse through his skin, still faster than her own relaxed heartbeat. She went to reach for him, to guide him inside of her, but suddenly she couldn’t make herself do it.
Guilt washed over her. He had been so good to her, pleasured her selflessly and enthusiastically. How selfish was she that she would even consider not returning that pleasure? She had been able to do this to comply with orders she had no wish to follow from a man she despised. What was wrong with her that she could not do as much, willingly and gladly, for the man she loved?
Her hand had frozen in mid-motion. She swallowed hard, willed it to move, reminded herself that she wanted to feel him inside of her. She wanted to make love to him. She could do this.
He caught her hand in his. "No," he said.
"But--"
"No, Genya. Not tonight."
"I can. I will. I'm not broken. I want to do this."
David ran a hand over her brow, the shape of her lips, then touched her shoulders, his hand warm against her suddenly cold skin. She realized that she had tensed up.
"Do you?" he asked, his voice gentle. For a moment she hated him. How dare he use his observations and data to decide what she wanted?
"Yes!"
"I'm saying no." His voice was firm. "Will you tell me that I don't also have the right to say no?"
"That's not fair," she argued. "You're not saying no because you don't want to, you've just decided what you think is best for me!"
"I don't want something you have to-- to make yourself give. I don't--" he struggled to find the words. "I can say no too. I'm saying no."
"But you haven't come," she argued, and she realized there were tears in her eyes. She blinked them away angrily and gestured at his erection.
He looked faintly puzzled at that. "Do you think I haven't dealt with that before? I know how."
That remark was so unexpected, so frank, so David , that she giggled. He gently took her in his arms.
"I want to," she said petulantly into his shoulder. "I want to give you pleasure. I want to do for you what you did for me, find all the ways to make you moan and beg and shiver. I want to feel what it's like to have you inside of me."
David's hands tightened on her and he drew a deep, ragged breath, then another. She felt his cock throb hard against her stomach, moisture leaking from the tip.
"I… can't think when you talk like that," he said a bit weakly. "How do you talk like that?"
"Let me--"
"No." Still stubborn.
"Then I could… keep talking, while you…" Genya suggested hesitantly.
His eyes widened and his breath quickened. "I-- if that's-- do you want that? Would that be--"
Instead of answering in words, Genya shifted, pushing him onto his back, against the pillows made warm by her body. She pulled his hand from his side, and enveloping it in hers, wrapped it around his cock. He made an involuntary sound, shut his eyes. She curled against his side, smoothing his hair away from his face and leaning in to whisper into his ear.
"I can watch you. I can tell you what I want."
"Saints, Genya," he gasped, and he stroked himself slowly, letting his head and neck arch back against the pillow.
"I liked it when you put your fingers in me.” Her eyes flickered from his face to the hand moving up and down his length. "Sometimes when you're working, watching your hands, I'm tempted to just climb into your lap and put those hands all over my body," Genya confessed.
"What? You-- you are?" David’s eyes opened wide and his hand stopped moving for a second.
“Your hands are incredible,” she told him. “Strong and competent and capable. Hands that can shape glass and metal, but so deft you could untangle a braid of my hair without breaking a single strand. You would not believe the filthy thoughts I’ve had about them. How much I’d love to distract you, and show you the other things you could be doing with them.”
She watched those hands as she spoke, one clenching and unclenching on a handful of sheet, the other sliding up and down his cock, his strokes growing faster as she spoke.
"Slow," she commanded, and he made a helpless sound of arousal before he obeyed. She made a happy, approving sound. "I didn't realize how fascinating it would be, watching you do this. I like it."
"Tell me more about… in the workshop?" he said, nearly pleading. She kissed him softly, stroked his cheek.
"I'd sit so I was straddling your hips," she whispered, "and you'd be confused at first. You'd say my name. I love how you say my name."
"Genya." His voice was more like a gasp.
"I would lean forward and kiss you. Then I'd begin kissing your neck and grinding against you. I'd feel you get hard for me but you'd reach for my hips and tell me that we had to stop."
"Don't stop." His eyes were shut tightly. She stroked his chest, his stomach, feeling the charge her touch sent through hm in the way his stomach muscles tensed beneath her hand.
"I wouldn't.” Her voice grew more intense. “I’d grind against you harder. You’d feel the heat between my legs and know how much I wanted you. You wouldn’t be able to resist touching my body until I was moaning for you. I’d push our clothes out of the way and take you deep inside me.”
“On the chair?”
She pressed her bare skin closer against him. “Yes. I’d take you right there in your chair, in the workroom, where anyone could come in and see.”
He shook his head. “Work table.” His hand pumped faster over his length. “Lay you down-- undress you-- slide into you.”
Genya’s mouth opened in surprise. “What about your projects?” she demanded, both delighted and aroused at the way he had taken over the fantasy.
“On the floor. Don’t care.”
Genya felt a wicked thrill through her body, imagining all the odds and ends on his desk crashing to the floor with a sweep of his hand as he focused all his attention on her.
She caressed him, tracing the faint line of hair from his navel down, and he arched his lower back into it.
"I'd be so wet for you. Just imagine how good it would feel every time you thrust in. The sounds I'd make." Her own breathing had sped up now, caught up in the fantasy with him. He moaned. She continued. "You'd start slow and gentle but it wouldn't be enough." She pressed her mouth to his ear. "Harder," she demanded.
Each exhale came out a desperate moan now as he moved his hips, thrusting up into his fist. She was transfixed by the expression on his face as he neared the edge of release.
“I’d wrap my legs around you, dig my nails into your shoulders as you made me come around you,” she promised and kissed him, deep and fierce. She felt his body draw taut against hers, his hand stuttering on his length--and then she felt it, a hot burst of fluid against her stomach as he came. He cried out into her mouth, a guttural, broken sound, and then gasped desperately for breath, lips still brushing against hers.
“Genya,” he whispered. “Genya... Genya.”
She wrapped her arms around him, kissed him softly like the brush of a butterfly’s wings, and pulled his head down to her breast, pressing him to her heart, and he clung to her, his right hand still slick from his own climax. She caressed his back and felt again the vitality, the solidity of him, so much stronger and purer than any nightmare or memory could ever be.
She felt powerful. She felt loved.
David sank into the heavy warmth of sleep like that, with her heartbeat against his ear and her hands on his skin, and she felt him relax into her and smiled.