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Liliya really should know better.
She loves her wife, completely and totally and truly, and she also happens to think the expression Jane makes when Liliya annoys her, just a little bit, is one of the greatest things God put on this Earth. So, yes, Liliya does intentionally push Jane’s buttons whenever, wherever she can. So sue her—Jane married her knowing this fact. Liliya has a lot of favorite things about Jane, but her annoyance is definitely up there. Jane will flush, slightly, and she will narrow her eyes and scrunch her nose, and she will take a breath which is halfway a sigh, and then she will pretend like she doesn’t want to even look at Liliya for a bit (which, Liliya concedes, is miserable), but by the end of the night Jane always ends up back in her lap, whining and desperate after her few hours of bratting are done.
Liliya has her rotation of little habits specifically designed to piss Jane off (in the fun way, of course): smacking her ass in a too-public setting even when there’s no one around to actually notice or care, Liliya implying some random person who she truly couldn’t care less about is making eyes at her to get Jane all jealous, calling Jane by the sweetest of her pet names around acquaintances. Small things, all of which are meant to confirm Liliya’s desire for Jane in one way or another, and all of which are meant to make her blush and stammer and hmph. At this point, Jane knows it’s all part of the game. Her annoyed scrunches are done with just a hint of a smirk, of knowing that she can be mad, now, and in a few hours Liliya will remind her of her love, and devotion, and complete hunger for Jane until her brain is melting out of her pussy and she can’t help but smile as Liliya cups her cheek.
Each habit has its own little meaning: Liliya smacking her ass means she can’t control her attraction to Jane’s body, that she wants her always. Liliya pretending other people want to flirt with her means Liliya chooses Jane no matter what, that no one else can ever be it for her. Liliya calling Jane ‘princess’ or ‘angel’ in front of other people means Liliya wants Jane to know she is completely and utterly hers, that Liliya’s love is too strong to be quiet anymore.
So Liliya annoys Jane, and they both know the real point is that Liliya loves Jane; Liliya loves Jane so much she wants to completely destroy her and remake her in bed.
Liliya makes the fatal mistake of assuming this tease is the same, is just another new entry to the rotation of things-Liliya-says-to-annoy-Jane-and-make-her-horny, and that, when they get home, Jane will see Liliya’s lust so plainly laid out and will finally reveal her own beautifully, whining and begging with submission.
Jane and Liliya are at a charity banquet at home in Ottawa, but the details there don’t really matter. What matters is that Jane is dressed up beautifully, feminine in a way Liliya hasn’t seen in years. Her hair hasn’t been cut in a while, falling to her shoulders in stunning layers, and Jane is wearing one of her sparkly dresses with the low neckline and pulled in waist and flowing skirt, and it is so much like the Jane that Liliya first met and fell in love with. Except now she’s even happier and stronger and more beautiful, and, God, Liliya is so fucking lucky to get to walk arm-in-arm with this woman whom she loves that she almost pulls Jane into bed before they’re even out the door.
They’re talking to some random big-deal donor, a handsome young man Liliya couldn’t be bothered to learn the name of, when Liliya says it. In her hand is a glass of champagne, which is supposed to be hers but which Jane is mostly drinking, and her other hand is wrapped around Jane, as much for Jane’s comfort as her own. They stand together, polite laughing and nodding along, and the donor says something to the effect of calling Jane beautiful (which, of course, she is), and Liliya’s laugh turns just that little bit sharper. She sees her in, and takes it. She places the first card.
“Yes, she is. She is very popular with the boys—I will have to make sure she does not run away with any,” Liliya laughs, pulling Jane in closer as she does. And, yes, it’s a very reductive thing to say—not to mention completely inaccurate, as the imaginary Jane in Liliya’s head reminds her—but the point is to remind Jane that Liliya would do anything to keep her, that, come hell or high water, Liliya will fight for her love, that Liliya would not let her run away, not again.
Out of the corner of her eye, Liliya sees Jane’s nose scrunch.
‘Yes!’ Liliya thinks, like an idiot, ‘Janie is playing the game!’
The donor laughs, and Liliya fake-laughs, and Jane fake-smiles and excuses herself moments later. Liliya tells herself it’s all part of the game—again, like an idiot.
That night, at home and slightly wine-drunk, Liliya is handsy in a way she only ever gets with Jane. Again, sue her for being ridiculously attracted to her beautiful, sexy, perfect wife. Liliya stripped about the moment she walked through the door, throwing her stuffy formalwear to the side as soon as she possibly could, drifting behind Jane in just her bra and underwear. Liliya delights in the walk up the stairs, watching as Jane’s hips sway deliciously in front of her beneath sparkling fabric. Liliya isn’t sure if she actually licks her lips, but she certainly does in her heart.
As soon as they cross the threshold of their bedroom, Liliya wraps herself around Jane. Or, she least tries. She presses her tits to Jane’s back and reaches forward to grab at whatever part of Jane she can, and Jane, as is completely in-character for her, smacks Liliya’s hands away.
Liliya pouts, sighs dramatically, and tries again to paw at Jane.
“Janieee,” she draws, hands wandering back up to Jane’s chest, where they are pushed away again. Liliya huffs, and drags her body over to sit herself on the bed, legs purposefully spread and head cocked to the side.
Jane just looks, then turns around to take out her earrings. Liliya, again, like an idiot, takes this as her sign to keep pushing the game. This is the push and pull—Liliya will push, and Jane will pull away, until they are pulled into each other instead.
“Princess,” Liliya tries again, dipping her voice that octave lower which always makes Jane give in. “Be a good girl, and come here.”
Liliya is not asking, and Jane usually loves it when Liliya doesn’t ask, but she breathes that small half-sigh and doesn’t even look back before stepping towards the ensuite. She doesn’t even spare Liliya a second look. Fuck, she’s committed to this, isn’t she?
“I’m gonna take a shower,” Jane states, as if Liliya hasn’t been saying anything at all. She pouts.
“What, without me? Come on, princess—”
Jane shuts the door, and Liliya doesn’t even get to help her unzip the dress. Maybe it’s the wine, but Liliya still fails to see her fatal mistake.
It isn’t until later that night that Liliya starts to consider that she may have actually fucked up. Jane emerges from her shower, flushed from hot water and the perfect amount of exhaustion to relax her body without actually being miserable for her. As she does every night, Jane assumes her spot on the left side of the bed, puts on her glasses, and grabs the book she left on the bedside table the night before. She’s so sexy like this, focused and adorable in thick-rimmed glasses and half of a matching-set. Liliya really just wants to grab at her again, but she, at least, knows better than to mess with Jane’s routine—not in the middle of their game. She pretends to scroll her phone, though really she stares at Jane from out of the corner of her eyes.
But when Jane turns off the lamp almost an hour later and buries herself under the blankets, Liliya knows her time to strike fast approaches. She counts ten minutes in her head, but Liliya only makes it through seven minutes of Jane shuffling ever so slightly through different sleeping positions before she places a hand where she knows Jane’s thigh is and pushes her onto her back again to draw herself closer, breathing down the most sensitive part of Jane’s neck. She basically straddles Jane, keeping her not truly immobile, but confined enough to get Jane excited.
“You ready to be a good slut for me, princess?” Liliya asks, knowing the husky tone and the lilt of her accent must be making Jane soak through her underwear right now (as she always does, much to Liliya’s delight. God, she loves that woman.) Her hand itches to pet along the inner seams of her, but Liliya knows there is a reason why dessert is served last of all.
Instead of leaning her head back, instead of her breath hitching, instead of shifting her body somehow closer to Liliya’s, Jane pushes Liliya off and turns away. It takes Liliya a few seconds to realize before she flops down on the bed herself.
She really should know better, but Liliya thinks Jane is just very committed to the game.
The next day, Liliya determines that enough time has passed. She went to bed frustrated, she woke up frustrated, she kissed Jane goodbye before practice at the door frustrated. It’s easy enough, at this point in her life, to compartmentalize the ever-burning lust she feels for Jane, but the frustration consumes that portion of her brain so heavily she can barely stand it. Liliya, contrary to popular belief, can go for extended periods of time without fucking her beautiful wife, but now that she knows she could fuck her beautiful wife every day, why would she ever want to wait? If Jane is really tired, or if she really wants to delay and save all their energy for some spectacular fuckfest, then Liliya is more than willing to wait. But Jane seems so distant, distant in a way which is unfamiliar to Liliya.
She doesn’t wait for Liliya to get out of bed before she eats breakfast like she usually does, she almost runs out the door without getting a goodbye kiss before Liliya stops her, and she texts 30 minutes before her usual return time with some brief and curt message about how she won’t be home until later, so Liliya shouldn’t wait up.
Liliya does wait up. Obviously. The command is one of those little Jane-isms, one of those quick denials to mask some deep-rooted desire she’s too embarrassed to voice. It only means one thing, really: Jane is ready to finally end this silly game, and Liliya will rearrange her guts, and call her names, and maybe spit on her a bit, if she’s lucky (the pronoun kept vague on purpose).
She leans into the part she always plays, waiting for Jane at home in her black boxers with the o-ring at the front, and Jane’s favorite of her sports bra, and a tank top which she knows makes her tits and biceps both pop. She puts her hair up, too, because she knows she’ll be needing it out of the way. She worked out this morning, but she does another quick one just to rebuild a small layer of scent for Jane to bury herself into. She lounges around the house, limbs spread and posture slightly slumped, always waiting for Jane to open the door and catch a glimpse of a Liliya perfectly primed to take her.
It’s a foolproof plan, Liliya thinks. She knows herself, and more than herself she knows Jane. She knows Jane will be completely helpless to it, because she always is, and Liliya will get to have her wife all flushed and begging and beautiful. She can already hear the perfect whines and gasps Jane will make, and the remembered prediction is enough to start to get her all hot, bothered, and excited.
Especially when, from where she rests on the couch, Liliya hears the door open, just past ten o’clock. It takes everything in her power not to run up and jump Jane right then and there, and she’s applauding herself for her restraint when Jane passes through the living room on the way upstairs, sparing Liliya one glance and not a word. Liliya, shamelessly, watches Jane’s ass as she climbs up the stairs.
Liliya does not have enough restraint to keep from following her. She leans herself against the doorframe of their bedroom on one arm, doing her best not to reflect the buzzing excitement under her skin, as Jane shuffles around the bedroom tidying and rearranging and preparing herself for bed as if Liliya weren’t there at all. They stay like that a moment, Jane’s back turned to a Liliya projecting casualness but completely and utterly craving her wife again.
“I told you not to wait up,” Jane huffs eventually, and Liliya takes it as her cue to remove herself from the door. She saunters up to Jane, slow, and turns her around, pushing her so the back of her knees hit the bed near the headboard and Liliya’s hands rest atop her sturdy triceps. Fuck, she’s so strong.
“Mm, I do not think that is what you wanted,” Liliya draws, leaning in as close as she can until she’s practically breathing into Jane’s mouth, and Jane just raises an eyebrow, egging Liliya on. “I think you wanted me to wait.”
Her whisper is deep, slow and smug in a way which Jane has always been weak to. Liliya gently pushes Jane so she sits on the edge of the bed and blankets herself over, blue eyes staring down into black eyes staring up. Jane smirks, though the angle obscures it to Liliya.
“Oh, really?”
“Yes, really,” one of Liliya’s hands moves to Jane’s jaw, cradling it. “You are so predictable, princess.”
Jane laughs, a sharp, single exhalation which sends a rush up Liliya’s spine.
“I'm predictable?”
Liliya pets over Jane’s cheeks, over the constellation of freckles and the faint blush forming.
“Yes. You are all pouty sometimes, yes, and you will huff and say” (Liliya pitches up her voice, and does her notoriously terrible Canadian accent in her also notoriously terrible impression of Jane) “‘nooo, Liliya, I don’t want to, I am so mad,’ but then you will spread your legs and beg for me anyway.”
“Oh, is that what's happening?”
Liliya smirks, sinking down to her knees before Jane.
“I don't know, princess, are you ready to be good for me?”
Jane doesn’t say anything, she just watches with a glint of something in her eyes as Liliya kisses down her muscled thighs and reaches up and pulls off Jane’s black compression shorts. She leaves the underwear on, a heather grey pair which she knows will be darkened with wetness so very soon. Liliya buries her nose in it, lets the scent of sweat and residual soap and Jane’s desire fill her sinuses and shoot dopamine through her body.
There's a part of Jane for each one of Liliya’s senses. Sight is the easiest, though they are all easy: Jane’s body when she is pink and shining with sweat, the swell of her tits and stomach and the taper of her waist, the fanning out of her hair and the reddish tint to her lips when she starts biting at them in her pleasure, and the black saucers of her pupils when she looks up at Liliya. Hearing is next: the drag of limbs through sheets, Jane’s stuttering breaths and gasps whenever Liliya pushes at any part of her, the way Jane moans out and the words she says in the haze of her arousal, each so filthy and divine. Touch: the plushness of smooth skin along Jane’s hips and thighs, and the beautiful coarseness of her leg hair, the wetness between her legs and in her mouth, the threading of silk hair between Liliya’s fingers. Smell: the residual of vanilla, the deep musk of sweat which Liliya sometimes cannot help but bury her nose into, and the clean scent of soap and detergent which always clings to Jane’s skin beneath it all.
Taste. Jane tastes beautiful. Not sweet, not really, but something more intoxicating. Vast and bitter copper, bliss and a buried deep acidity. Divinity, really, something meant for Liliya’s tongue.
Liliya leans in, kisses at the seam of Jane’s panties under which she knows Jane’s clit is throbbing, and she goes to lick along the darkening fabric, slow, with eyes staring up and teasing Jane. Her tongue never comes home to meet the flavor, because suddenly a hand is in Liliya’s ponytail and is pulling back hard enough to sting just slightly. Jane stares down at Liliya, her eyes sharp and condescending in the way Liliya’s would often look.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Jane asks, voice laced with something unfamiliar and dangerous. Liliya walks, happily, into the trap laid for her, complete with a hand trailing up Jane’s thigh and a cocky smile.
“I am giving you what you want, princess. Aren't you gonna say thank you?”
Jane tugs again, even harder, and presses Liliya’s face into her knee.
“I don't know what you think is happening,” Jane draws, voice laced with a meanness, a teasing cruelty entirely unexpected as she wraps another loop of hair around her fist, “but only good boys get treats, Rozanov.”
Fuuuck…
Suddenly the puzzle pieces click into place, and Liliya feels her own pupils enlarge instead and her own mouth fill with drool. Of all the things Liliya expected of her wife, this was certainly not one of them, and yet it makes her so incredibly and irrevocably horny. Her Jane—her once-blushing, timid Jane—weaponizing Slavic naming conventions to effectively treat Liliya like a boy in bed. Good boy, Jane says, and Rozanov, and the words unlock something deep within Liliya which she doesn’t know what to do with yet.
She feels the slow, tight boil beneath her stomach, the feeling of her clit beginning to throb and beg for attention. Liliya just stares in front of her, mouth slightly open, at Jane’s own desire which she so badly craves on her tongue—she wants, she needs to make Jane feel good, which she always does, but it takes on a different key this time. She needs to be Jane's good boy, she needs it so badly that it makes her forget whatever game she was playing before.
Liliya’s voice slips, no longer the confident and steady bass she so easily slipped into in their bedroom, but something new, shaky, and soft.
“Janie, please—”
“Uh-uh,” Jane snaps a finger, as if Liliya really were a dog she was scolding. “That's not my name, not tonight.” She tugs again, and Liliya whimpers at the tight pressure against her scalp. “Try again, baby.”
Suddenly Liliya’s brain feels very empty. It takes her a few solid moments before she’s able to produce anything resembling a name. Jane has never been like this before, not fully, and the sharpness of her voice and her hands puts Liliya into overdrive.
“...Hollander?” Liliya eventually whispers, and Jane just tugs at her hair once again, far gentler than Liliya tugs at Jane’s hair, but it’s enough. The pain is a dull ache, travelling from her scalp to the base of her spine to in between her thighs. Rather than hurting her, it reminds her of where she is, of who she belongs to, now and forever. She leans into it.
“That’s Miss Hollander to you.”
Electricity shoots through Liliya’s whole body. Fuck, Jane is pissed at her—so pissed that, in whatever beautiful kinky scenario she has crafted, she won't even acknowledge the fact she and Liliya are married, that there's a hyphen connecting them now and always. There's something so arousing about it, demeaning in the way it places Jane, alone, above Liliya—Liliya needs Jane, but Miss Hollander doesn’t need Liliya.
Liliya whimpers, just a little bit, so quiet she prays Jane can’t hear it, but loud enough that she knows she does. Jane’s fingers loosen in her hair as her mouth ticks up in a smirk, and her posture straightens just a little bit more with confidence that tells Liliya she is already pathetic.
“Please, Miss Hollander,” Liliya pleads, already feeling herself sink below the waves of desire. She's watched Jane ride this current so many times, watched Jane float away and leave behind a version of herself gauzy and needy, but never until now has Liliya fully understood the feeling. Now, she understands it perfectly. Her thoughts move as if through syrup, the only clear sensations being the heat beneath her skin where Jane—where Miss Hollander—touches her.
“God, you’re already pathetic for it, baby,” Miss Hollander murmurs. She traces the hand in Liliya’s hair down until it cups her jaw and squishes her cheeks together, mean and teasing. “I've barely done anything and you're already whining…” her smile regains that cruel edge which makes Liliya’s breath catch. “But I don't think you've earned it yet, puppy. Show me why I should let you taste me, and maybe I'll consider it.”
Maybe Liliya really is a dog, overcome with the need to please, to be good, here on her knees before the most beautiful woman she has ever seen. Her eyes glaze over, surely, as she slowly twists her head to the side, lavishing the side of Miss Hollander’s knee and thigh with little kisses and licks without breaking eye contact. The skin is soft, so soft, covered in dark hair tapering off further up her thighs, and the swells of fat and muscle are so divine to Liliya, always have been, the the texture mixed with the taste of residual sweat makes Liliya moan into the skin as she creeps further and further up.
Worship is what it is, and Miss Hollander’s hand no longer pulling at her hair, but petting through it, is a divine gift. Above Liliya, dark eyes break contact with a small flutter and gasp.
“Fuck, baby, already so desperate—”
Liliya keens, giving a final kiss to the highest point of Miss Hollander’s inner thigh before switching to the other, repeating the process again. Dull nails begin to scratch at her scalp, and she feels her eyes roll into the back of her head.
Possessed with a fervor, Liliya places both hands on the tops of Miss Hollander’s thighs and pushes herself up this time when she reaches that point just shy of Miss Hollander’s cunt, trailing her head upwards to kiss the swell of her stomach and swipe her tongue up and across her belly button. Liliya pants, stupid breaths in and out of her mouth, her tongue lolling out of her mouth just slightly. She can’t tell if she’s just playing into the role, or if she really is this far-gone already.
“Aww, puppy,” Miss Hollander coos, “you really want to be a good boy, don’t you?”
The words, the implication of praise is enough to make Liliya’s grasp tighten into skin and muscles shake and buzz.
“Yes, Miss Hollander, please,” Liliya whines, nuzzling her face into the space between Miss Hollander’s tits, and lavishing more kisses upon whatever skin happens to be in front of her mouth.
Above her, Miss Hollander laughs that teasing laugh again, and Liliya feels another zap of humiliation travel down to her clit.
“Baby, you keep begging,” Miss Hollander sighs, cupping Liliya’s jaw in her hand again, “and I don’t even know what you’re begging for.”
“Please, please—”
The hand still in Liliya’s hair pulls tighter than it has all night, and she can’t stop the gasping moan which the pain rips from her throat, and the high-pitched whines which follow.
“Tell me what you want, puppy,” Miss Hollander squeezes Liliya’s cheeks together again, “or are you too stupid with it already?”
Liliya tries frantically to shake her head.
“No, nono, am not stupid, please—”
Another tug, another keen. And, God, Liliya does feel stupid—she feels her speech getting clunkier and clunkier as it was when she was younger and still new to English. Her mind runs wild with that, the image of Liliya being young, and impressionable, and desperate to please the gorgeous, older Miss Hollander before her.
Liliya’s head fills with cotton, senses narrowed in on the remnants of Miss Hollander’s smell, intoxicating and divine. Liliya wants it—no, Liliya needs it, she needs to feel soft folds and throbbing wetness along her tongue and lips and chin, she needs to feel thighs locked around her head stutter and tense with pleasure. She needs to be good.
“Then tell me what you want, Rozanov.” Her voice is harsh around the edges, commanding and strict, and Liliya feels herself buckle. “If you can’t, then you can just watch me get myself off.”
“No—Miss Hollander—please, I—” Liliya feels like she might cry with desperation and they’ve truly just started, “I want to taste you. Please. Let me taste you, I want to be your good boy.”
The two of them make eye contact, Liliya’s eyes surely glazed over and shiny with want, and Miss Hollander’s eyes sharper than Liliya had ever seen them before. Slowly, the corner of Miss Hollander’s mouth twitches into a smirk, and Liliya is shoved back down by her shoulders to be fully seated on her knees.
“Good puppy, using your words,” Miss Hollander hums, and Liliya feels the wetness rushing out of her with the slightest praise. Miss Hollander spreads her legs further apart with a cool smirk. “Now come one, get your treat, baby. Be a good boy and make me feel good.”
The words barely leave Miss Hollander’s lips before Liliya is diving in, ecstatic with permission. Her tongue laves over cotton fabric and darkens it further with spit in a way so debauched, so pathetic, it makes her float even higher. She can’t help it, really. With the first contact against Miss Hollander’s clit—Liliya’s nose rubbing against it as her tongue laves at the wettest spot of her underwear—she doubles forward and lets out a little ‘oh!’ which makes Liliya’s chest swell with pride. And, of course, the contact is heavily muffled by soft grey fabric, but Liliya has been starved for it long enough already that any taste, any inkling of the gorgeous pussy she now worships, is better than any gift on Earth. Of all the places she could be, Liliya is most happy here, dragging her tongue across Miss Hollander’s cunt and burying herself in the smell and taste.
She really is a puppy with a treat, and if she had a tail, it would be thumping nonstop.
“Puppy, fuck, so needy you can’t even—oh, God—you can’t even wait for me to take my panties off,” Miss Hollander gasps, her voice bouncing back and forth between keening soprano and domineering alto. It takes a lot of fuss to peel her underwear off, and a lot of pushing Liliya back, but neither of them are paying much attention to that because as soon as Miss Hollander’s cunt is bare in front of Liliya, she dives further in.
All paths of breathing are surely shut off, and Liliya would be happy to suffocate here. Usually, Liliya is careful about teasing and twirling her tongue around and working Jane up slowly and deliberately, but now she just wraps her lips around Miss Hollander’s throbbing clit and sucks, and licks, and moans into seemingly at random. Her mouth watered so much in the denial that a mouthful of spit intertwines with the shining wetness of Miss Hollander’s pussy, making debauched wet noises as Liliya devours her cunt.
Distantly, Liliya feels a bit of wetness slip from her mouth and begin to drip down onto her chin.
Above her, Miss Hollander is desperately trying to even out her breathing, but small little moans and gasps escape with every clumsy movement Liliya makes. The hand in her hair, involuntarily, grabs hold of golden locks again, though the pain does nothing to deter Liliya. If anything, it makes her more enthusiastic. She runs her tongue flat up Miss Hollander’s pussy, and revels in the way it makes her shudder.
“God, you are so fucking—” a keening moan breaks through the words, “Rozanov, fuck, you’re so pathetic. No technique, puppy, so messy—how am I supposed to—oh, fuck—feel good when you’re so sloppy?”
Liliya whines into Miss Hollander’s soaked clit. If she had the wherewithal to think, she would know immediately that Jane is completely bluffing, that she absolutely feels good with the way she buckles and gasps and pulls without meaning to. But Liliya can’t think, she can’t focus on anything but the shining pussy in front of her and the filth leaving Miss Hollander’s mouth.
“Oh, baby, are you too—mm, God—too pathetic to eat me out properly?” Miss Hollander coos, her voice laced with as much fake-pity and condescension she can muster in her pleasure, which derails Liliya even further. “Poor puppy, so desperate for me.”
Liliya tries to control herself and slow down, tries to prove she’s not pathetic, she really does, but the hunger inside her is insatiable. All she can do is suck and lick and moan as fast and as much as possible because Miss Hollander tastes so fucking good that Liliya swears she could cum just from this, just from servicing Miss Hollander this way and being called mean names all the while. Her cunt is so beautiful, anyway—soft slick skin flushed pink the further inward Liliya pushes and always desperately twitching and seeping with every little movement.
Liliya develops something resembling a rhythm, though the speed at which she enacts it is whatever as fast as fucking possible is at that very moment. She pools as much spit as she can onto Miss Hollander’s clit and rubs it all in with her tongue, slick and filthy. She swirls her tongue around Miss Hollander’s clit where it throbs under the hood, feeling the way that makes the thighs either side of her head jolt up then relax, before angling her face down to plunge her tongue in as deep as it can go. She rubs her nose, then, again Miss Hollander’s clit, and thrusts her tongue in and out a few times until she aches for more and pulls back, drinking at all the wetness which accumulated in the course of the previous steps with a debauched slurping noise and moaning into delicate folds.
Rinse and repeat until both Liliya and Miss Hollander are shaking with it.
“Good boy, Rozanov, fuck, just like that, baby,” Miss Hollander babbles, words muffled as she bites on her lip and throws her head back.
Miss Hollander seizes Liliya’s hair again with one hand, not to pull but just to hold steady, and fists the sheets with the others, canting her hips up and down as best in time with Liliya’s tongue as she can manage. Liliya, below her, draws her left hand up to grab at whatever she can above her (Miss Hollander’s arm, her tits, her face) before it’s smacked down again and again, and her left rubs up and down the expanse of muscled thigh beside her head.
“Come on, baby, good boy, good boy—I’m close, keep going like that—fuck!”
Above Liliya, the thread unravels all at once.
Miss Hollander gasps, drawn-out and high-pitched the way it always is when she cums, and her muscles all shake and tense at once as she curls inward, shoving Liliya’s mouth and nose as far into her as they can go, and Liliya is kicked into overdrive. Realistically, she knows Jane’s pussy really isn’t all that different when she’s cumming, but fuck does she need to lap up ever last drop and twitch she’s so mercifully gifted. If anything, Jane stuttering through orgasm makes Liliya eat her out harder, savoring every bit she can until she’s being, rudely, pulled away from her cunt panting.
“Down—down, boy,” Miss Hollander snaps from above, pulling Liliya back by her hair, “fuck. Calm down, puppy.”
Liliya just whimpers, staring up at Miss Hollander with her biggest puppy eyes. She feels a glob of slick, or maybe her own spit (slobber), dripping down her chin. Miss Hollander holds onto Liliya’s hair like a leash, and all Liliya wants to do is surge forward and bury herself in her cunt again.
Miss Hollander’s face is flushed pink, shiny with sweat near her hairline and pupils blown. She’s beautiful, and she looks so composed even though she just came, and the internal comparison Liliya makes between the two of them has her wiggling her ass, just a little.
Miss Hollander drags the hand in Liliya’s hair down to thumb at her parted lips.
“Oh, baby,” Miss Hollander leans closer, “you’re such a mess. What am I going to do with you?”
She tsks, spreading the wetness which had accumulated on Liliya’s bottom lip back and forth before sinking her thumb into her mouth. Liliya moans around the intrusion, and leans forward to chase it with a slight whine when Miss Hollander withdraws.
“You are so cute, puppy. All that talk, and yet you’re so desperate and sweet for me.”
“Puh—Please, Miss Hollander—”
Liliya is cut off with a small smack to her cheek—not enough to hurt, not even close, but enough to shut Liliya up with a drawn-out whine.
“What did I say about using your words, puppy?” Miss Hollander draws back, shaking her head. “Really, baby, if you want to fuck me, you’ll have to prove you’re worth it.”
Liliya swears her heart stops at that. Her entire lower half aches with the need to thrust into Miss Hollander, to have her moaning around her strap and praising her for it. Her hips buck forward uncontrollably.
“Miss Hollander, please, let me—let me fuck you. I promise, I’ll be good—”
“Mm, I don’t know,” Miss Hollander draws, so noncommittal that it makes Liliya’s whole body buzz, especially when Miss Hollander averts her eyes to check her nails. "A lot of boys have tried, Rozanov, do you really think you’re better than them?”
The fantasy rips Liliya away from herself, and the image of the divine Miss Hollander in front of her with other boys fills her with rage and desperation alike—she needs to own and be owned alike, needs to be so good that Miss Hollander will never think there’s anyone but Liliya this devoted to her. A whine builds in the back of her throat.
“I promise, Miss Hollander. I will be so good for you, please, I want—I want to fuck you,” Liliya begs, breaths and words falling out so fast that it makes Liliya dizzy.
“Really?” Miss Hollander scoffs, threading her hand back along Liliya’s scalp to scratch, “because all you’ve done is whine and beg. Do you even know how to use your big dick, puppy? Or are you just gonna rut into me like a mutt?”
“I will prove it! Please, really, I will,” Liliya is whining, head nuzzling into Miss Hollander’s thighs as she rambles. With her left hand, she reaches to pull out her favorite strap-on from where it lives in their bedside table, and Miss Hollander lets her. “Let me fuck you, Miss Hollander, I—I will be good, I promise. Please.”
“Hm,” she hums, as though she’s really considering it as Liliya fumbles around with hooking the dildo—sleek black silicone, nine inches—into the ring at the front of her boxers. “I guess you are pretty cute, puppy…”
“Please—”
Miss Hollander tugs again, sharper than any thus far, and Liliya gasps as her eyes roll into the back of her head.
“Uh-uh, no!” she scolds, and Liliya snaps her jaw shut and whimpers. “Don’t start begging yet, God. Are you too dumb with it to just listen to me for a few seconds?” Miss Hollander clicks her tongue, and Liliya has to stifle a pathetic little whimper. “It’s like you don’t even want to fuck me, puppy.”
The disapproval, the failure of Liliya to be a good boy causes hot shame to bubble up in her chest and clit alike. In apology, she peppers even more kisses upon whatever skin is in her reach.
“I am sorry, Miss Hollander,” Liliya whimpers, “I will be good boy, please. I promise.”
“Oh, puppy…I know. You’re just too desperate for it, baby. It’s okay, let me take care of you,” Miss Hollander coos, condescending, and the renewal of her approval causes a dumb smile to light across Liliya’s face. “But if you really want to be a good boy for me, Rozanov, then I need you to tell me exactly what you’re going to do with me. Can you do that, baby?”
Liliya nods, her mind scrambling to put words to the images in her head as Miss Hollander once again scratches along her scalp and makes her brain leak out from between her legs. Liliya knows she must be soaked between her legs, but her pleasure is so all-consuming, so deeply tied in with Miss Hollander’s pleasure that she cannot pay it any mind.
“Yes, Miss Hollander, yes. I want to fuck you—I promise, I will be good. I want to be able to see you, Miss Hollander, because you are so pretty, and I want to—” Liliya swallows around the words, too worked-up by this point to be embarrassed by what tumbles out of her mouth. “I want to breed you, Miss Hollander. Please, I need to feel you—”
“Fuck, Rozanov,” Miss Hollander mutters, cupping Liliya’s cheek with a look of pure desire in her eyes. A thumb rubs, gently, over the soft skin beneath Liliya’s watering eyes. “You’re lucky I’m so nice, puppy, letting you breed me when all you’ve done is whine.”
Liliya lights up, her phantom tail wagging so fast it makes her dizzy. She’s never felt so stupid with it, so completely fuck-dumb and happy for it.
“Yes, thank you, thank you, Miss Hollander. I will be so good—”
“Shh, baby, I know you’re excited,” Miss Hollander laughs, still a slight sharp edge as she pushes Liliya back and pushes herself fully onto the bed, patting the side like Liliya really is a dog. “You can come up, puppy, but don’t start yet.”
Liliya scrambles so quickly onto the bed that it makes her out of breath, or maybe she’s been out of breath this whole time. Breathing seems unimportant, though, when Miss Hollander is laying before her on full display—the swell of her perfect tits, the taper of her waist and the contrast of softness and muscle along her stomach and thighs. Her pussy, shining still with desire and flushed a pinkish-brown where it sits between her spread legs. Liliya has to stop herself from diving back in for another taste.
“Fuck, baby, you’re so big,” Miss Hollander mutters, eyes darting down to the Liliya’s dick. She bites her lip. “So big…I think you’ll have to get it a bit wetter for me, puppy.”
Liliya tilts her head to the side in confusion, and after a moment her hand moves to pull the lube out of the bedside drawer when Miss Hollander interrupts her with a click of the tongue. The noise makes Liliya stop instantly, like a dog.
“No, not that, puppy. Come on, I know you’re dumb with it already, but be a smart boy and get your dick wet for me.”
Understanding suddenly hits Liliya, and it definitely helps with what Miss Hollander is asking, because she knows she is so wet right now.
Liliya swallows and draws a shaky hand downward, snaking it under her boxers and swirling around her own cunt to gather as much wetness as she can, her clit throbbing almost painfully as it's rubbed against slightly and then ignored again. It’s embarrassing how wet Liliya got without being touched at all, and it’s embarrassing how she’s being made to put on a show of it to Miss Hollander. She’s both humiliated by the fact and so turned on.
Miss Hollander smiles meanly when Liliya pulls her cupped hand back up, shining and holding within a pool of her own desire. The knowledge that she passed this test, that she was good, makes Liliya even wetter again.
“Good boy, Rozanov,” Miss Hollander smirks, and Liliya feels herself salivate at the praise, “but I know you can do better for me, baby.”
Liliya, slowly, draws her hand back down towards her boxers, but Miss Hollander shakes her head, instead staring into Liliya’s lips. Once again, the understanding of what she’s being asked to do arouses her as much as it humiliates her. Liliya brings her shaking hand up towards her mouth, catching the smell of her own wetness and desperation, before spitting into the pool.
“Good boy,” Miss Hollander repeats, voice barely over a whisper as she lets herself fall back, back slightly arched up and hands falling above her head. Liliya buzzes with the need to bury herself into Miss Hollander’s glimmering pussy. “So eager for me…Why don’t you show me what a good boy you are, Rozanov?”
Liliya is frantic as she nods, rubbing her slicked-up hand along her dick as quick as she can before she shuffles forward, one hand resting on the small of Miss Hollander’s waist and the other guiding her cock into the divine abyss of Miss Hollander’s cunt.
Miss Hollander gasps as Liliya slides in, trembling with the need to hold herself back and not be too rough too quick, especially as the hardness of silicone presses against her clit and makes her feel every little twitch around the strap as if it really were her dick. By the time she’s bottomed out, Liliya is keening in the back of her throat and buzzing with the urge to just fuck into Miss Hollander as hard as she can, to claim her, to prove that Miss Hollander should keep her.
But Liliya’s a good boy, and she hasn’t been told to yet.
A blissed-out smile covers Miss Hollander’s face, and the little hitches in her breath at the sensation of being completely full of Liliya are extra tests to Liliya’s resolve.
“Fuck, baby—”
“Please, Miss Hollander, can I…?”
Liliya’s entire body feels as though it’s on fire. She’s overcome with her desperation, the burning in her clit and her hands and her chest at the thought of being Miss Hollander’s good boy, of breeding her, of proving she’s better than any boy who’s tried before, so much so she feels like she’s about to cry with it. Possessive desire charges through her entire body, and Liliya needs more than anything to get to prove herself, to fuck Miss Hollander until she’s satisfied. She feels the phantom squeeze of Miss Hollander’s cunt around her dick, and Liliya in turn squeezes her hands where they rest on Miss Hollander’s waist and thigh.
“Yes, fuck me. Come on, puppy—” Miss Hollander moans, and she is quickly cut off by Liliya thrusting as fast and as deep as she can into her sweet spot. Instantly, hands grasp around the back of Liliya’s neck and legs around her waist, and Liliya lets herself fall into fervent rhythm.
She feels the rubbing of her clit against the hard outline of the strap, and usually the pressure is just a background pleasure when they fuck, but now Liliya is delirious with it. There’s no skill to how Liliya fucks, none of her usual expertise and teasing, just desperate humping into Miss Hollander and nuzzling into her with high-pitches moans and whines with each little press against her aching clit.
“Miss Hollander—Miss Hollander, you feel so good,” she draws out, the slick sound of her hips uncontrollably pistoning in and out echoing, debauched, through the bedroom. The only thing louder are Miss Hollander’s moans, not high-pitched like Liliya’s are now, but gasping and deep. Her legs tighten around Liliya’s waist, and her fingers dig into the skin of her upper back. “Miss Hollander,” Liliya pants, “am I—fuck, am I good?”
“Yes, fuck, yes, baby. You are such a good boy. My good boy, my dumb puppy,” Miss Hollander gasps, and the epithets (her good boy, her dumb puppy) make Liliya whine and push herself even closer. Her hips already ache with the break-neck pace she set, but Liliya can’t seem to notice or care, too blissed out on the knowledge that she’s being good for Miss Hollander and the accompanying pleasure rocketing through each vein.
Liliya can’t seem to escape it—each point of contact (her clit rubbing and creating the sensation of her dick hugged by Miss Hollander’s perfect cunt, her face nuzzling into the soft heat of Miss Hollander’s neck and the little kisses and licks she peppers there, Miss Hollander’s nails scratching into her shoulder blades) sets Liliya on fire. And the more she’s set on fire, the more each point of contact pushes her own, and the cycle repeats until Liliya really is brainless, unable to think of anything but being a good boy, Miss Hollander’s good boy, breeding her like a good boy.
Miss Hollander is rambling above her between moans, and Liliya can barely put meaning to the words.
“Fuck, you’re so perfect, baby, I don’t—oh, God—no one else is even close, good boy. I could never—fuck—could never want anyone else, Liliya. My sweet puppy— let me take care of you—I want you to breed me, puppy, only you can. Need you to make me feel so good—”
It’s not that Liliya had tired herself out with her thrusting, but the words she can parse through give her a second wind. She’s Miss Hollander’s good boy, she’s here to fuck and breed her until she’s so blissed out she can’t imagine anyone else but Liliya, just like how Liliya can’t imagine anyone else but Miss Hollander. Liliya paws at Miss Hollander’s hips, dragging her back to meet each thrust. Her focus narrows impossibly more to where Miss Hollander pulls her deeper in, to that spot deep inside her which has her gasping and moaning and writhing.
Looking down at where they connect, Miss Hollander is soaked, and Liliya’s dick is streaked in evidence of their desire for each other. The image of herself so thoroughly marked by Miss Hollander’s wetness, by the evidence that Liliya is hers, has Liliya snaking her thumb down to tap at Miss Hollander’s throbbing clit, impossibly warm and twitching under the lightest contact.
“Fuck, Rozanov, baby—” Miss Hollander babbles, tossing her head back into the pillows and baring her gorgeous pale neck. Liliya has to bite her own lip to stop herself from biting into the tender flesh.
She’s no longer in control of her own body, any and all control she once had now rests in Miss Hollander’s hands, so thoroughly owned that if Miss Hollander told her to do something, she would do it before they even fully sunk into her fucked-dumb brain.
“Good boy, God, you’re mine, aren’t you? My good boy,” Miss Hollander draws, one hand still scratching Liliya up and the other snaking back into her hair and drawing her face mere inches away from her own, and Liliya is nodding so frantically it shakes her brain around her skull hard enough to hurt. “My stupid puppy, my good boy—”
“I want to feel you cum, Miss Hollander, please—fuck, is so beautiful. Let me be your good boy, please,” Liliya keens, feeling the tightening of muscles beneath her fingers—a telltale sign of Miss Hollander’s incoming orgasm.
“I’m your, baby, yours—” she moans before pulling Liliya’s mouth against her own, hot and desperate as she cums. It’s not really a kiss, because they’ve both lost too much coordination for that, but they’re both moaning into it anyway.
Miss Hollander's entire body convulses under and around Liliya, so beautiful and flushed and sweaty with exertion and desire that Liliya cannot bring herself to stop. She fucks Miss Hollander through each keening wave, through each extra tug and scratch and bite on her lip until each muscle loosens and Miss Hollander tries desperately to catch her breath.
Liliya knows that a good boy would stop, wouldn’t keep drilling into Miss Hollander like this, but she’s also a stupid dog who was promised a treat—the chance to breed Miss Hollander. The pressure against her clit is almost too much, too good that Liliya cannot stop her hips frantically bucking into more and more of the pleasure.
“Oh! Puppy—” Miss Hollander gasps with the first thrust following the final wave of her orgasm, and Liliya just whimpers into her neck.
“I’m sorry, Miss Hollander, I need to cum, please—” she whines, entire body aching with her need. She is so, so close—all she needs is permission, really. She needs to cum and be Miss Hollander’s good boy.
Miss Hollander’s head tosses against the pillows as she wails in overstimulation, and if Liliya were more with-it she would surely clock the way Jane is trying desperately to grasp and keep hold of Miss Hollander in her pleasure. One hand falls over her own eyes, and the other scratches so hard into Liliya’s shoulder she’s half-sure it’s bleeding.
“Fuck, baby—” Miss Hollander whispers, eyes screwing shut as she whimpers with each thrust. Liliya knows it’s not the good thing to do, but she cuts Miss Hollander off anyway.
“Please. Miss Hollander, I am so close, please. Need to cum, need to—need to breed you,” she begs, her entire cunt kicking and pulsing trying to stave off orgasm at the sight of Miss Hollander so overcome with pleasure, with what Liliya has given her. All Liliya can think of is cumming into the tight heat all around her, the knowledge that she can so thoroughly belong to Miss Hollander and own her, too.
She’s too focused, or rather, unfocused on anything but her own pleasure, to notice the little nod Miss Hollander gives.
“Fuck, Liliya, baby,” Miss Hollander whimpers, “take care of yourself—cum for me, good boy, breed me—”
The final thread is snapped. Liliya is pistoning into Miss Hollander so fast, muttering little ‘thank you, thank yous' into her neck as the sound of their moans tangle together with the filthy sound of Liliya’s dick sliding in and out.
“Miss Hollander, I’m—”
Liliya barely notices when she starts cumming, because she already feels so fucking good. Her entire body is convulsing with it, melting into waves and waves of absolute bliss which take hold of her in a way they never have before. She can’t control a single thing about her body anymore—not her thrusts, not her sobs, not the squeezes and quivers of her muscles. The only note playing in her mind a single re-assurance of her absolute devotion, of her need to fill Miss Hollander with herself and prove that she is it, that there’s no one else as dedicated, as desperate, as good for her as Liliya.
Her orgasm shoots through each vein, ripping oxygen from her lungs and remaking her entirely. Liliya’s eyes drift shut, and she’s surprised to find her lashes wet, but she cannot focus on any particular sensation around her, only the feeling of the body wrapping around her.
“Good boy, so good,” Miss Hollander is muttering as Liliya comes to, her hips slowing and lungs trying desperately to regain air flow. Distantly, Liliya feels a hand petting through her hair. “My sweet puppy, making me feel so good.”
The words loop through Liliya’s brain, still single-focused on the woman before her—her good boy, her sweet puppy. She floats in the feeling of it, clit still throbbing where she’s buried in Miss Hollander and head still full of cotton, and her entire body is so exhausted but she still feels so light in the air, mind reeling in the satisfaction of having debased herself so thoroughly and having proven herself good.
She nuzzles into Miss Hollander’s dark hair, breathes in the smell of sweat mixing with the slight coconut scent of her shampoo.
“Mm, thank you,” Liliya hums after what could be a few moments and what could be an hour. Time feels fuzzy around her, really everything feels fuzzy around her. She wants to stay here, like this, safe in Miss Hollander’s arms for as long as she can.
“Hi, baby,” her Jane whispers back, slightly warbling around the edges, “are you with me?”
“Yes, hi,” Liliya nods, slowly, burying herself further into the silk of Jane’s hair.
Jane clears her throat, an old nervous tick, as her hands keep petting through Liliya’s golden mass of curls.
“Was that…too much?” she eventually asks.
“No, never, no…Very good, princess. I love you very much,” Liliya slurs, heart rate beginning to return to its normal rhythm, calmed in the softness and warmth of her Jane.
“Okay, good…good,” Jane mumbles. They stay in the silence a while, Liliya buried deep in Jane as she pets through Liliya’s hair and Liliya nuzzles closer, until Jane is pulling back slightly. “Let me get you water or something, baby.”
Liliya whines, already mourning the comfort of being in Jane’s arms like this, warm and still floating and sweet.
“I’m sorry, baby,” Jane leans over, awkwardly, to kiss Liliya’s forehead, “but I’ll be right back, okay?”
Eventually, Liliya sighs and nods. Distantly, she feels Jane pull herself off of Liliya with a small gasp at the sudden emptiness, and reconfigure Liliya’s limbs, and get up from the warmth of their bed. Liliya whimpers, just a bit, as Jane leaves, part of her still stuck floating.
When Jane returns, Liliya is far more herself again, lying starfish over their sheets with the dildo pulled out of its ring and tossed somewhere with a blissed-out smile on her face.
Jane sits on the bed, gently pushing Liliya’s chin up so she can drink some of the ice water she brought and setting a few other small things (snacks, mostly) on top of the bedside table. Instinctively, Liliya curls in closer to Jane, her warmth, her safety, her love.
“Wow,” Liliya eventually laughs, and at that Jane blushes. “My Jane has gotten so adventurous.”
“Shut up,” Jane barks instantly, but quickly softens. “I’m sorry I didn’t warn you before…”
“Is okay, princess. You know I am very, um…flexible, yes, with what we do. Was very hot, promise.”
“Okay…”
Liliya pushes herself up, twisting back to face Jane.
“Give me kiss?”
Jane rolls her eyes and smiles, leaning in to give Liliya a quick peck.
“I love you,” Jane whispers into Liliya’s mouth.
“I love you too, princess,” she smiles, pulling back. “You are very sexy, you know. Can I ask what made you want to do this?”
Jane turns away.
“I just…” she huffs. “I was so mad about what you said the other day, I guess—about me running away with a boy, or something. I just got so in my head about it, like you would really think I would do that to you, and then it made me so frustrated too, and…” she shrugs. “I don’t know, I wanted to show you that I wouldn’t, I guess. It’s weird now that I say it, huh?”
Liliya leans in and kisses her cheek, instantly softening around her wife’s words.
“I did not mean to make you mad, lyubimyy. I was very stupid, and I am sorry—”
“It’s fine—”
“No. Let me finish,” Liliya’s voice slips a bit deeper, and Jane flushes at that. “I wanted to show you that I would fight for you always. I would not let you run away, yes?”
Jane smiles, something soft and small at that.
“You’re such a fucking idiot.”
“Mm, yes. But I am your idiot,” Liliya’s smirk ticks up into something sharper, more teasing, “I am—how did you put it—your stupid puppy.”
Jane flushes bright pink and bats Liliya away.
“Fuck you!” she laughs, and Liliya pulls her back so they’re essentially wrestling on top of the sheets.
“Ahh, princess! I already fuck you lots!” Liliya teases as they bat at each other with heavy limbs, still blushing and sweaty and happy. They tangle into a mess of skin and sweat and laughter, so perfect and so in-love with one another Liliya can barely think of anything past this.
Eventually, Liliya ends up on top, almost straddling Jane.
“Hi,” Jane mumbles, dark eyes darting away.
“Hi, princess,” Liliya parrots, drawing herself down to kiss Jane all sloppy and slow. “I love you very much.”
“I love you too”
Liliya’s smile takes on a sharper edge.
“And I hope you know, princess, that I will be getting my revenge for this, yes.”
Jane’s smile widens further, and she flips Liliya over to climb on top of her again, both of them laughing in their underwear.
“Fuck off!”