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qzwrites · 10 months

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nykalaeni/astarion 2.5

i forgot i wrote this and don't want to re-number all the posts lmao

something that frustrates me sometimes about role-playing games is the assumption of motive behind an action? and role-playing another autistic person whose desire for diplomacy does not actually stem much from idealism so much as an obsession with getting all the information and coming to a fair resolution, i was uhhh frustrated with the assumptions the companions put on things like "agreeing to help people".

Nykalaeni smiled at Jaheira politely. "Would you excuse us a moment?"

"Go ahead."

Nykalaeni grabbed Astarion's arm and dragged him into the corner of the room. "Are you an idiot?" she hissed.

Astarion looked taken aback. "I beg your pardon?"

Nykalaeni pinched the bridge of her nose. "Ever since the wreck," she said, "you've been complaining about every remotely nice thing I say yes to doing."

"I simply think it's a waste of time--"

"You--" Nykalaeni forced herself to take a breath. "Astarion, I know you're aware of the concept of lying."

"You haven't been lying," he said. "We have been all over the bloody Sword Coast, doing one good deed after another."

"Yes, but I don't know that when I say it," Nykalaeni said. Astarion frowned at her. Nykalaeni sighed. "The easiest course of action is nearly always to agree with whoever you're talking to," she said. "I have also agreed to do horrible things for the Absolutists, without actually doing them, because it is easier to agree with people. People like being agreed with. They like to think you're on their side. That doesn't mean you have to be."

"Yes, fine," Astarion said, "I suppose you have also agreed with goblins and drow and necromancers only to later betray them. We've still gone out of our way to help people when it brings no benefit to us."

"Which is why I asked if you're stupid," Nykalaeni said, feeling her temper slip out of her grasp. She fought to keep her voice down as she went on, "Every single time we have done a 'good deed' it has immediately benefited us! Helping the refugee tieflings earned us several valuable allies, not to mention the good and services they have continued to provide on the road. When we helped the Fists put out that fire, we received valuable information about an Absolutist stronghold and their movements. When I took us 'out of our way' to help Wyll track down Karlach, we not only gained Wyll as an ally, but also Karlach, and I would say they have been pretty beneficial, Astarion!"

Astarion rolled his eyes. "So we've gotten lucky," he said.

Nykalaeni gritted her teeth. "Again," she said. "It feels like you're being willfully ignorant about this. I know you're not stupid, so I don't understand why you're such an asshole about this in particular."

"You have no idea how these things will turn out when you agree to them," he insisted. "Sometimes we don't see any benefits until much later, and we could just as soon have not gotten allies or rewards or what have you."

"No, we--" Nykalaeni cut herself off. "Oh," she said. "Do you really think that?"

"What do you think I've been saying," Astarion said, throwing his hands in the air.

"No, I--I guess I didn't understand," Nykalaeni said. Gods, he really was stupid. How had he gotten along in Baldur's Gate being this ignorant? The gods knew she had struggled for the first years of her life, before she realized how useful other people could be when you didn't ignore them all the time. "Astarion," she said. "People's goodwill is a resource. When I agree with people, they like me more, and are more willing to help us in the future. Being helpful is an extremely safe bet for increasing our chances of survival. Even when we fail, having tried--or even simply letting them think we tried--and sometimes even listening to them complain--they're still predisposed to think better of us and help us later."

Astarion cocked his head to the side. "My dear," he said, "are you saying you're nice to people specifically to get them to help us?"

"Why else would I be nice to people?" Nykalaeni asked, before she realized what she had just said, and grimaced. "That came out wrong," she said. "Obviously being nice to people is good anyway."

Astarion looked delighted. "Yet that wasn't your first choice of words," he said. "Darling, do you not actually care about the people we help?"

Nykalaeni crossed her arms over her chest. This was a question with a wrong answer, and historically it would absolutely not have been safe to answer honestly. But Astarion seemed to prefer that to the "correct" answer, and he had been honest with her about things other people would doubtlessly consider flaws. So she admitted, "Not especially." She added quickly, "But it rarely costs anything to listen. And the favorable response is pretty significant."

"All this time, I thought you were a sentimental idiot," Astarion said, almost laughing. Seeing it, Nykalaeni relaxed. Even knowing he was unlikely to call her unfeeling or callous, she hadn't truly believed he wouldn't judge her. Eyes practically twinkling, Astarion asked her, "This is a logical, unemotional choice for you? Truly?"

"I suppose it would be fair to call it a habit at this point," Nykalaeni said. It was the logical choice, but she'd been doing it so long it was her default response. Listening non-judgmentally, agreeing with people's complaints and requests, let her gather as much information as possible before making a decision. "But it is the most rational course of action in most circumstances. I mean," she said, shrugging, "we wanted to rescue Halsin from the goblin camp anyway, to consult him about the tadpoles, so the fact that it would keep Kahga from sealing the Grove and help the refugees was a bonus. Letting the tieflings think they played more of a role in the decision might be disingenuous, but now they're all willing to vouch for us."

"You're actually quite cunning," Astarion said. He looked at her fondly. "I appreciate the explanation."

"So will you stop snarking about me agreeing to hear people out?" Nykalaeni asked.

"Absolutely," Astarion said. He beckoned her closer with a crooked finger, and Nykalaeni took a step in, relieved. He gave her a regrettably short kiss, then smiled at her and said, "We should get back to it, then."

After that, of course, she still had Lae'zel and sometimes Shadowheart grumbling about the pointlessness of her generosity. Lae'zel approved of righting wrongs, but she didn't like the idea of being diverted from their goals. And often Shadowheart's complaints seemed rote, the sort of thing one would expect a Sharran to say. Nykalaeni was no longer as annoyed by it as she had once been, because she knew Lae'zel ultimately trusted her, and she strongly suspected Shadowheart's complaints were not sincere. Astarion had been the one whose objections bothered her the most, even though he never really offered any alternatives or seemed at risk of leaving the group, because Nykalaeni felt like he should understand.

It also helped to hear Lae'zel mutter something about something being a waste of time, and Astarion go, "Oh, hush, she's being clever."

"How so?" Shadowheart asked.

"Don't you see it?" Astarion replied. "Hmm. I thought it was obvious."

He was such a jackass sometimes, Nykalaeni thought, smiling to herself.

#bg3 #nykalaeni #astarion was not especially attracted to nykki until she was like sure i'll let a strange priest flog me and he realized she was a freak #and i think this :) is where he starts being like oh no i like her so much #nykalaeni and the bad bitch she pulled by being autistic lmao #why ELSE would i be nice to people she said and he was like oh actually i love her?#fanfic

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thewintersoldierdisaster · 2 months

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a/n: did i start this fic in february? yes. is it now july? yes. is canes bash andrei timeless? also yes. 😂 genuinely this fic gave me so much difficulty and i could not get it finished in a timely manner for the life of me. but it’s here now and also serves as a chance to look at the pictures of andrei from the bash including my favorite with those giant ass fingers 🥵 ANYWAY, enjoyyyyy 😘

tw: semi-public sex, fingering (f receiving), dirty talk, unprotected sex, nipple play, bossy and slightly mean andrei, mild choking,

word count: 5.7k

summary: during the canes bash, andrei steals you away for some private time

“Next year, I’m suggesting a boy toy auction,” you say, a little tipsy, gesturing towards the stage with your drink, “you know, like in One Tree Hill?”

Nykki, Gracia, and Amy look at you briefly and then burst into giggles. “Oh, could you imagine?” Amy says around laughter. “They’d hate that.”

The live auction continues, the crowd cheering as the price keeps going up. You sip at your wine, “poor winners would end up with a day on the golf course.”

“Who do you think would go for the most money?” Nykki asks. The three women share a look before chiming simultaneously, “Andrei!”

You snort a laugh and then jolt when you feel a large, warm hand on the nape of your neck. Andrei crowds at your back, his body heat enveloping you. “You called?” He jokes, thumb rubbing softly against your skin, making you shiver. “What were you talking about?”

The other three women, traitors all of them, smirk but don’t reply, leaving you to respond to your boyfriend. You don’t know what possesses you to answer honestly, maybe the alcohol, maybe the warmth of Andrei’s big body behind you. Whatever it is, you blurt, “how much money you’d go for in a boy toy auction.”

Andrei’s fingers still against your skin and the girls widen their eyes at you, Nykki lifting her hand to her mouth to muffle a laugh. You wince and sip at your wine, cheeks flushing with heat. Andrei’s thumb taps against the side of your neck and he hums lowly, the sound practically vibrating against your back when he steps in closer to you. “Boy toy?” He repeats, fingers tightening gently around the back of your neck.

You let out a little squeak, arousal flooding between your legs. It’s suddenly very hot in the arena. “Mhmm,” you manage to hum, completely distracted by Andrei’s hand on your neck. God only knows what your face is doing because Nykki shoots you a wicked grin, looking almost sympathetic for your plight.

Andrei clicks his tongue and leans in, his face appearing in your peripheral vision. You can see his mouth curl up in a little smile before he says to your friends, “I’m going to steal her, if that’s okay?”

All three laugh and wave you off, talking over each other as they tell you to have fun, don’t do anything they wouldn’t do, don’t get caught. You roll your eyes at them as Andrei leads you off, using his hand on your neck to guide you towards the other end of the covered ice. The fabric of your dress swishes around your shins, your heels clicking along the floor as Andrei’s pace picks up slightly.

“Too fast,” you murmur, just loud enough for him to hear you over the music and general chatter.

“Not fast enough,” Andrei says back, amusement in his tone. “Barely saw you tonight, solnyshka, missed you.”

His fingers are hot on your neck, his chest bumping against your back as he crowds you towards the photo booth set up for the fans. You’re interrupted as you go, fans stopping Andrei every few feet for a picture or to chat. His hand slides from your neck, between your shoulder blades, stops to rest in the curve of your lower back where the calloused edges of his fingers catch on the silky fabric of your dress. He chats with fans, friendly, but reserved, keeping you within arm’s reach. You step in occasionally, offering to take pictures for the fans, smiling and chatting too, even as arousal is pooling low in your stomach, heat dampening the crotch of your thong. When you’re at his side, Andrei’s fingers dance lightly over your lower back, making you shiver and your nipples pebble under the silk of your dress.

You just hope it’s dark enough that no one notices.

Eventually, Andrei’s hand is more insistent on your back, making excuses to step away and get you back on your previous path. His hand slides down to cup your ass, squeezing and massaging your flesh. You clench around nothing, inner thighs damp and slippery.

“Andrei,” you mutter his name in what you were hoping was a warning tone - you don’t want pictures of your PDA on social media and the Canes Bash is as public as it gets, with fans taking pictures of everything - but ends up coming out breathy and whiny.

“Shush,” he leans forward and presses a kiss to the hinge of your jaw, gripping more of your ass in one large hand. A strangled little groan slips past your lips and all you can focus on is Andrei’s little laugh in your ear and the way his hand is bunching the fabric of your dress up. You know the fabric is going to be wrinkled, but you can’t seem to find it in you to care when the old school photo booth comes into sight and you realize what Andrei’s plan is. There’s a little bit of a line for both the old school photo booth and the open plan photo wall, so Andrei settles you in the line, wrapping his arms around your front and resting his chin on top of your head.

He strikes up conversations with the fans around him, personable and funny, while holding you against his chest. Your ass presses against his groin, the bulge of his cock hot through your dress.

It’s more PDA than Andrei is usually comfortable with, especially at a work event, and you wonder just exactly has gotten into him. He sways a little as he’s chatting with another couple, hips thrusting forward with his movement. Your brain is going a little fuzzy, static hissing between your ears with each graze of his cock against your ass. You’re faintly aware that phones are pointed in your direction, a hazard of being with Andrei, and you duck your chin a little so your face isn’t necessarily front and center in any photos that are taken.

Andrei shuffles behind you, pushing you closer to the photo booth for your turn. “Look beautiful tonight, solnyshka,” he murmurs in your ear, kissing the side of your head. “Can’t stop looking at you when you’re not next to me.”

His words warm your entire body from the inside out, a soft giggle slipping past your lips. The casual flirting never gets old, no matter how long you’ve been together. You bring your hands up and hold onto his forearms, fingertips tracing lightly over the cuffs of his button down and suit jacket. “Looking pretty handsome yourself, Mr. Svechnikov,” you murmur quietly, pressing a little kiss to his exposed wrist bone.

Andrei’s body warmth heats your own skin and the scent of his cologne fills your senses, a blurry haze of lust and alcohol making time move strangely. Before you realize it, Andrei has you manhandled into the photo booth, the curtain pulled shut behind your bodies, and the button pressed on screen to start the countdown.

The screen flashes, taking a picture at the exact second Andrei’s hands on your hips force you down into his lap, the thick ridge of his erection nestling between your legs. Your eyes widen at the contact, a little gasp punching out of your lungs when you settle and feel how hard he is. “Oh!” you murmur, subconsciously grinding your ass back against him, stomach fluttering and arousal soaking your thong.

Andrei’s laugh at your back is low and gravely. “Smile,” he says, one arm banded around your waist, keeping you pressed firmly over his erection, his other hand sliding up your side and over your breast to rest at the base of your throat. His fingers curl gently, applying light pressure just as the second flash nearly blinds you.

“Andrei,” you rasp, arousal swirling in your stomach, cunt throbbing. Someone could accidentally slide the curtain open at any second. Someone is going to see the photo strip before you can snatch it.

Two thick fingers tap on your lower lip and you open your mouth automatically, conditioned to know what Andrei wants. His index and middle fingers slide past your lips, his thumb tucked under your chin. Your tongue curls around his digits, saliva already pooling in your mouth. Andrei hums a satisfied little noise against your bare shoulder, his fingers thrusting shallowly in your mouth. A shiver runs down your spine, nipples pebbling painfully.

A third flash, your eyes wide and lips wrapped securely around Andrei’s fingers. You catch a glimpse on the preview screen, Andrei’s face is only visible from the bridge of his nose and up. But you can feel the satisfied smirked curve of his lips against your skin. The arm around your waist tightens and you don’t know if you bounce on his lap of your own accord or if Andrei is the one shifting your body over his clothed cock.

A wet spot has to be forming on your dress’s fabric where it’s tucked under your ass.

Your body heats up, hottest where Andrei’s cock is nestled between your legs in the curve of your ass. And then all at once, the fourth flash and a cool draft of air on your right breast, your nipple an unbearably tight point as it’s exposed to the cool air of the arena. Andrei’s fingers are hot against the side curve of your breast, holding the fabric of your dress so you’re exposed to the camera. Your eyes are wide, lips clamped tightly around his fingers, a hiccuped gasp trapped in your throat.

“Andrei!” You hiss, finally coming to your senses, his fingers falling to your chest, leaving a wet trail of your saliva as they move to circle your nipple. He pinches the nub and you hiss again, fresh heat pulsing between your legs. His lips find your bare shoulder and his teeth nip your skin before he presses a kiss to the same spot. “Someone…” you breathe, finding it hard to manage a full sentence with Andrei’s fingers working over your nipple. “The photos…”

His chuckle vibrates through your chest and you shiver, pressing your ass into his groin.

“I can feel how wet you are,” Andrei’s voice is teasing. “You want someone to see, don’t you?”

You whine his name, embarrassingly wet for him and he knows it. His teeth scrape over your heated skin and with one last tweak of your nipple, Andrei stands, forcing you back onto shaky legs. His chest is solid against your back, cock still pressed tantalizingly to the curve of your ass, a brand against the silky fabric of your dress.

Andrei kisses the side of your neck, fingers groping at your chest while he pulls your dress back into place. You’re covered again, but just barely, the fabric slightly out of place and your pointed nipples blatantly obvious through the fabric. There are little wet spots from your saliva on the fabric and you exhale heavily when Andrei’s tongue darts out to lick over your pulse point, heartbeat kicking into overdrive.

You need him, desperately.

He laughs and murmurs softly, “how fast do you think I can make you come?”

The small space of the photo booth feels even smaller and you whimper, “very,” much to Andrei’s amusement.

“Let’s test that,” he says, one huge hand landing on your ass cheek and guiding you out of the booth with a firm press. You can’t even begin to imagine what you look like, too hot and probably lightly debauched. Thank god your lipstick wore off hours ago or it would be smeared all over your chin. Andrei smiles and nods at the people waiting and he snatches the strip of photos smoothly from the little well.

He looks down at the strip, a smug little smile pulling at his mouth. You try to look too, to see if the grainy film can capture just how debauched you feel, but Andrei clicks his tongue and tucks the photos into the inside pocket of his suit jacket.

“Ah,” he grins at you, “these are just for me. When I miss you on the road.”

You nearly stamp your foot, the pleasure coiled in your stomach waning to a dull throb, and Andrei catches sight of the pout that’s forming on your face before you can fully deploy it. He catches your chin in between his thumb and index finger, middle finger curled under your jaw, and dips his head low so he can whisper in your ear. “Be good, solnyshka. Maybe I let you take your own photos later, yes?”

Your stomach flips and fresh heat makes your head dizzy. Andrei smirks at you, knowing what effect his words have on you, especially when you turn into him, leaning your entire front against his side. Your hands trail over his back and stomach, just above his belt, and you look up at him from under your eyelashes. His stomach muscles contract under your touch and you grin. “I was promised an orgasm,” you murmur against his shoulder, enjoying the warmth of his body when he snakes his arm over your shoulder and holds you close.

“And you’ll get one,” Andrei laughs, pinching your wrist in his free hand when you slide it up his chest, fingers reaching for his jacket pocket and the photo strip hidden within. You whine and Andrei squeezes your wrist just a little bit tighter. “So impatient,” he kisses the side of your head and leads you off, around the crowds and down the tunnel to the locker rooms

“Andrei,” you frown to yourself as he leads you down the dark hallway, the noise of the Bash getting quieter. People definitely saw you leave and head this way. You’re not even sure if you’re allowed to be back here, in off hours. But Andrei’s hand is warm on your ass, heat seeping through the fabric of your dress, and he gives you a little squeeze.

When you look back at him, you see the faint smile on his face, the way his eyes are trained on you.

“I won’t let anyone see you,” he promises on a low laugh, knowing what you’re worried about despite the thrill that runs up your spine at the thought of being caught. “You’re all mine, remember. No one else gets to see how wet your little pussy gets for my cock.”

A little gasp is startled from your mouth at Andrei’s words and the low, rough tone of his voice. You barely notice that you’re inside the locker room now, surrounded by the stalls, until Andrei’s hand slides up your back and comes to rest in between your shoulder blades pushing gently, guiding you further into the room.

“‘M not letting you fuck me in here,” you mumble, thighs slipping against each other as you walk. “When’s the last time it was cleaned?”

Andrei laughs, clearly surprised by your comment, his mouth falling open so you can see the spot where his tooth is missing when you crane your neck to look back at him. He presses a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth, murmuring, “not here, we’ll go to training room.” His fingers dip under the fabric of your dress, raising goosebumps when the calloused tips of them trail over the notches of your spine. “I want to bend you over the table.”

“Oh,” a little puff of air slips past your lips, your mouth curling up in a smile. “I very much want to be bent over a table.”

You giggle when Andrei’s hand clamps down on the back of your neck, a surprised little shriek slipping out when he wraps a strong, thick arm around your waist and holds you to his side, legs dangling a few inches off the ground and swinging with his long strides into the training room. Your hands clamp around his forearm, clit throbbing and arousal dripping down your thighs. You just hope your dress isn’t wet, otherwise that’ll be an embarrassing return to the party.

Before you can blink, Andrei’s body is hot at your back, one broad hand pushing between your shoulder blades to bend you at the waist over one of the padded massage tables. Your body obeys easily, forearms crossed under your chest, propping you up slightly, your back arching. Andrei’s hand glides a hot path down your spine and then there’s cool air on your overheated skin, the fabric of your dress gathered in Andrei’s hands and bunched up at your waist.

He curses lowly in Russian, the rumble of his accent making your cunt clench and your hips cant backwards, searching for him. “Gorgeous,” Andrei mumbles, draping his chest over your back, kissing the bare expanse of your shoulder blade at the same time his hand cracks down on your exposed asscheek. You jolt forward, your skin heated, a surprised yelp forcing its way from your throat at Andrei’s spank.

“Andrei!” You whine his name and jolt forward again, dripping wet, when his hand cracks down on your ass again. His hand soothes over the heated spot, his lips marking a trail down your spine until he reaches the top of your zipper, mid-way down your back.

He laughs a little and his fingers dance over your cheek, dipping between the cleft of your ass and brushing up against the tight ring of your asshole. You grunt a little, clenching around nothing, a spike of heat sharp in your stomach. “Not tonight,” he soothes, fingers dancing down until they find your soaked cunt. “Soon though, again?”

You nod like a bobble head, lifting your ass even higher to get Andrei’s fingers against your swollen clit. He laughs at your needy whine, dipping his fingers lazily through your folds, letting his fingertips brush against your clit, but giving you no real relief. “So needy, solnyshka,” he mumbles, distracted. His attention is on your glistening cunt, dripping for him. “How many fingers do you think you can take now? One, two?”

“More,” you sigh, looking over your shoulder. “Three and your cock, Drei, please.”

He grins at you, flashing the spot where his tooth is missing, his eyes twinkling. “You want everything, yes?” A quick, sharp twist of his fingers against your clit has you screaming his name and lifting higher on your toes, liquid heat pooling in your stomach.

“Yes, please, fast. Baby, I want it fast,” you babble, words falling from your lips as Andrei’s fingers strum at your clit, stoking the pleasure boiling in your stomach. “Wanna go back to the party.”

Andrei’s fingers pump into you, middle and ring up to the first knuckle, and you gasp his name, moaning. “My bossy girl,” he leans down and kisses your shoulder, pumping and twisting his fingers. “In no position to be making orders.”

You lift up on your toes, pressing harder into the table with each push of his fingers into your cunt. “Andrei,” you chant his name in time with the press of his fingers, arousal gushing around his hand, dripping down your inner thighs. The rough pads of his fingers press and hold against your g-spot, making you see stars and sending you over the edge of pleasure, orgasm hitting hard and fast. The pressure of his fingers in your cunt and his other fingers twisting your nipples keeps you coming longer than usual, your cunt clenching his fingers in a vice grip while you squirt all over his hand and your legs.

He’s murmuring behind you, praise and filth that you can’t hear over the rush of blood pounding in your head and the high pitched whines and moans spilling from your lips. Your legs tremble, toes pressed against the soles of your heels, the thin circumference of the stilettos clacking gently against the floor as you shake. “Oh god,” you exhale harshly, back arched and hips pushing against Andrei’s. “More, please, baby.”

Andrei’s hands are hot on your ass, kneading at your cheeks. His right hand is wet, leaving damp trails over your skin and you shiver when he leans down to blow on your skin, the wet spots immediately cold. “Three fingers and my cock, yes?” He asks, laughing.

“Yesss,” you hiss, breaking off in a wail as soon as Andrei stuffs three thick fingers in your cunt, stretching and massaging the walls until you’re biting your fist so you don’t shriek too loud.

“Such a good girl,” Andrei praises you, curling his fingers and brushing his knuckles against your g-spot. “My perfect girl and her tight, wet cunt. Thinks she’s the boss, telling me what to do because she wants to go back to the party.”

His hand has a tight grip on your ass while he makes you come a second time, your own hand slipped down to circle your clit for extra sensation. The tug of pleasure low in your stomach builds until you’re seeing stars behind your eyelids, gasping breaths sawing from your lungs. “Too much,” you mumble, Andrei’s fingers thick and insistent in your cunt, working you to a third orgasm. Everything feels raw and sensitive, overloaded to border on pain.

His fingers slow down, gently stroking now, and you sigh. Your cheek presses against the cushioned tabletop and you look at Andrei over your shoulder, poking your lower lip out in a pout. His face is flushed, hair falling over his forehead, and he looks nearly as wrecked as you feel. You blink at him and he chuckles, folding at the waist to drape his chest over your back and press a sweet kiss to your pouted lips. You sigh against his mouth and when he sucks gently at your lower lip, a lick of heat travels up your spine accompanied by a lurch of arousal in your stomach. He tastes like alcohol and the faint salt of soy sauce, his sushi addiction made tangible.

A low hum works its way up your throat while Andrei’s hands work their magic. One broad palm slides up the curve of your ass and rests on your lower back, the other leaves the tight grip of your cunt and you can hear the faint clink of his his belt buckle being undone. You grin against Andrei’s lips and press your ass back against his groin, feeling the hard line of his cock and the cool bite of his open zipper.

He bites down on your lower lip and pulls back, briefly, before pressing another soft kiss to your lips. “Don’t move,” he warns you in a low voice, “or I’ll have to punish you.”

With a wiggle of your ass against his groin, you giggle breathlessly and retort, “what if I want to be punished?”

Your heartbeat still isn’t back to normal after the back to back orgasms and the way Andrei’s breath ghosts over your cheek doesn’t help regulate it. You can feel his hand move against your ass, the leaking tip of his cock hot against your inner thigh. “Solnyshka,” his voice is a low rumble, “behave and I’ll give you everything you want.”

You whine and nod, pressing back against Andrei’s cock. He’s bare, hot and throbbing against your inner thigh and when he slides the length against your soaked folds, the tip catching against your clit, you wail his name. He shushes you and prods the broad head of his cock against your entrance, your body accommodating the stretch of him as he slowly pushes inside. Your arms land flat on the tabletop and your fingers scratch at the cushion, hips pushing back on Andrei’s cock.

“Slow,” he sounds strained, voice wobbling a little. “Slow or nothing, solnyshka.”

“Okay, okay,” you cry, gasping when Andrei pushes another inch into you, the veins on his cock rubbing against the walls of your cunt. “Oh my god,” you clench around him, wet and sensitive. Andrei pushes in another few inches and the overwhelming fullness of him punches a breath from your lungs, legs trembling with the effort of not buckling. His hands are tight on your hips, surely leaving bruises that you’ll be able to trace with your fingers for days.

You’re drifting one hand to your chest, planning on playing with your nipples for extra sensation when Andrei gives one more harsh thrust and bottoms out, filling you to the hilt. His name falls from your lips in a strangled moan and you nearly scream when he rotates his hips, pushing his cock deeper and scraping your bare ass with the zipper of his fly. The elastic of your thong bites into the crease of your thigh where it’s been pushed aside this whole time.

Andrei’s voice rumbles behind you, Russian mumbled in time with his thrusts. You squeeze around him and he groans, slapping the side of your ass gently before reaching around your hip to pinch your clit. You yelp and instinctively buck your hips, pulling off his cock a few inches. Andrei’s hips chase yours and you’re stuffed full of him again, incoherent babbling filling the air.

“Too much,” you whimper, his fingers toying with your clit and his cock battering your g-spot. Forget going back to the party, you’re going to be a dehydrated husk on the floor if Andrei keeps this up, arousal dripping down your thighs in obscene rivers.

Andrei pulls back, leaving just the head of his cock nestled in your cunt, stretching you out. “My girl, she talked a big game,” Andrei laughs, pumping his hips in shallow little thrusts. Your cunt clenches around just the tip, the strange feeling of being stretched and empty at the same time making you whimper and claw behind you for his hand. He moves one big hand off your hip and laces his fingers with yours, squeezing gently.

“More, oh god, Drei,” you whine, trying to fuck yourself back on his cock, but Andrei won’t move and only gives you the head of his cock and an inch or so more.

“I thought it was too much?” Andrei’s tone is faintly mocking, a laugh bubbling beneath the surface. You growl a little and kick your foot out, clipping his shin, which only makes him laugh harder. He keeps you in limbo, stretched open on the head of his cock and giving you no more. “You want another orgasm?”

“Yesss,” you hiss, reaching your free hand down to find your clit. The sensitive bundle is sore and reactive, little zaps of pleasure running through your body as soon as you roll it between your index finger and thumb. You’re nearly there, primed and ready after the two previous orgasms.

Andrei releases your hand and you can feel him shift behind you, gripping his cock in his hand and stroking himself, hand bumping against your soaked folds as he goes. “Better get it before I come,” Andrei says, stroking his cock faster.

Your brain is fuzzy, blood pounding in your ears. “Huh?”

Without pausing his hand, the tip of his cock twitching in your cunt, Andrei repeats himself, “if you want a third, make yourself come before I do, solnyshka.”

“Andrei…” you mutter, eyebrows drawing together in confusion. Your fingers stumble over your clit and the rhythmic stroking of Andrei’s hand on his cock is distracting you.

“Fast, we want to get back to the party,” he teases, groaning as he works himself over.

Bastard.

Your fingers get back to work, moving on autopilot, and it only takes a few seconds to realize that the half-full feeling your cunt being stretched open on the head of Andrei’s cock is doing more to hurt than help you. You need more of him, more that he won’t give you, and you press your forehead against the tabletop, groaning as you play with your clit.

It’s right there, your orgasm, building fast in your stomach and you’re nearly at the edge when Andrei grunts and you feel his cock head twitch, spurting come, hot and thick into your cunt. “Fuck,” you moan in unison with him, clenching and wriggling as he fills you up, coming for several long heartbeats. You give your clit a few more swipes, pinching and rolling until the coil of pleasure snaps and you’re following Andrei over the edge, coming with a shriek of his name.

“Cheater,” Andrei gasps, voice hoarse. He pulls his cock from between your legs, his come immediately dripping out of you.

“Too fucked out to argue,” you mumble back, shifting your weight and rubbing your thighs together slightly. You feel too empty now, the phantom impression of his cock still making your cunt twitch. He presses a kiss to your shoulder and tugs the fabric of your thong back into place, making you wince and wiggle.

“Keep that safe for me,” he murmurs, tucking himself back into his pants. His zipper is loud in the quiet training room, his belt clinking again in an echo of a few minutes ago. Your thong is immediately soaked and the wet fabric sticks to you in a way that’s bordering on unpleasant the longer it touches you.

Propping yourself up on an elbow, you twist and look back at Andrei. His face is red and you can see that his pupils are still dilated. “I have to go back out there like this?” You ask, finally shifting your weight so you’re standing upright. Your knees wobble and more fluid drips down your thighs - thanks to gravity.

He leans in and kisses you quickly, tracing the tip of his tongue over your lower lip before pulling back with a wicked, dimpled grin. You know you’re in trouble even before he says, “you wanted to get back to the party, right? Go ahead.”

“Andrei…” you feel your lips poke out in a pout, nose wrinkling at the thought of trying to walk around the arena and rejoin the party like this.

He repeats your name in the same tone, cupping your chin in his palm. “If you’re good, I’ll clean you up at home,” he promises, reaching down to pull your dress back over your hips and ass, squatting while he straightens the fabric out. You shiver and he feels it, resting his cheek against your thigh. He looks up at you with those big brown eyes and gives you a smile that’s softer than his words.

You run your hand through his hair, curling your fingers around the back of his head and shiver again, thighs slick and cunt clenching faintly around nothing. You really should know better than to let Andrei get his hands on you in a private space, you have no one to blame for your current situation but yourself.

“Can we leave early?” You murmur, when he stands up and steps to the side to pump some hand sanitizer into his palm. Your legs are less shaky than you thought they’d be when you start following him out of the training room, but you’re still walking a little bowlegged.

“Oh,” he stops short and turns to grab your upper arms before you can bounce off his back, “now you want to leave early?”

You hum, flattening your lips into a line, and deadpan, “yeah, because now I’ve got come dripping down my thighs.”

Andrei laughs and kisses your forehead sweetly. “Can’t leave before it ends,” he loops his arm over your shoulder and you fall into step next to him. “Responsibilities to team, solnyshka.”

“You’re such a menace,” you grumble, leaning against his side as you go, with a brief stop for Andrei to actually wash his hands with soap and water. You’re not about to let him subject the fans to what went down in your personal life, no matter how uncomfortable you are right now. You twitch and shift your hips, wincing when a fresh spill of liquid hits your thong. If your dress isn’t covered in damp spots, it’ll be a miracle.

His hand finds your lower back like a magnet and you emerge back into the party area, the dim lighting doing the most to hide your slightly disheveled state.

You make it barely ten feet before Andrei is distracted by a small group of fans. You take a group picture for them and then wander off in search of a drink. After finding one and knocking back half of it, you drift off to the sides of the transformed rink and Nykki appears at your side. She has a wicked grin on her face and you’re already shaking your head before she opens her mouth.

“I can’t believe you snuck off for a quickie,” she cracks up and holds her phone in the air, “and it wasn’t even that quick!”

“In our defense,” you can’t help but laugh a little, “it was three quickies and that adds up to however long we were gone.”

“Forty-five minutes, babe,” Nykki informs you, whistling under her breath. “I’m beyond impressed and inspired to go and find Martin.”

“I recommend waiting,” you sip at your drink and wriggle again. “Or finding a condom.”

Nykki’s delighted laughter is swallowed a bit by the noise in the arena and you laugh along with her, acutely aware that people around you are starting to look over. Including your boyfriend.

Andrei catches your eye and winks at you, his dimple popping out on his cheek. He wiggles his fingers at you in a little wave, the same fingers that had just been buried to the second knuckle in your cunt, and you flush.

His smile widens and you roll your eyes at him, even as you press your thighs together to stop the way they tremble.

At your side, Nykki scoffs. “You two are shameless, it’s hilarious,” she teases.

You press a hand to your heated cheeks and shake your head, “I can’t even argue with that right now.”

The party lasts a few more hours, your attention drawn by the fans and Jarvy’s attempt at bartending. Before you know it, Andrei is at your side again, holding your coat in one hand.

“Ready to go get cleaned up?” He teases quietly, holding up your coat for you to slip your arms in. Once you’re bundled in the coat, burying your face in the collar, Andrei holds you to his side and you head for the garage.

“Hmm,” you hum, arm wrapped around his waist and face pressed against his side, “it’s been a few hours, I think I want to get dirty again.”

#andrei svechnikov #andrei svechnikov x reader #andrei svechnikov x you #andrei svechnikov fic #nhl fic

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comphy-and-cozy · 6 months

Text

The After Party II

Pairing: Brady Skjei x Reader (f) x Andrei Svechnikov

Summary: A year after your illicit tryst with your current fling and your ex-fling, you meet again. Part two to The After Party.

Word Count: 6.3K

Warnings: Smut (18+ ONLY). Light alcohol use/mention, swearing. Threesome (MFM - no MxM), fingering (vaginal + anal - f receiving), oral sex (m + f receiving (vaginal)), unprotected sex, vaginal sex, anal sex (f receiving), double penetration, mild cumplay. **Please do your research before engaging in any sexual activity but especially anal sex. This is fiction and by no means any indication of how one should prepare. :)

Author's Note: happy belated birthday, @smileysvech! I hope your bday gang bang 2.0 makes this year's celebration one to remember. thank you for being my biggest cheerleader and for all of your unwavering support. 😘🖤

nhl masterlist | moodboard

The party is unlike one you’ve ever been to. Like a themed sorority bid night, but with a much higher budget; the decor is elaborate, a sea of blacks and reds and glitter. Candles illuminate the room, making the atmosphere feel dark. Ornate. Indulgent.

Your boyfriend dons a black leather jacket and black jeans that accentuate his thick thighs. His jacket is completely unzipped, revealing more than a tantalizing sliver of his toned, golden muscles; they’re all but bare, the deep cut lines of his abdomen, an opportunity to show off his impressive body. The silver cross branded on his bare sternum is a stark contrast to the crown of thorns perched on his head. Judas.

Your dress contrasts his outfit entirely; lace and ivory wrapped around your body, the corset bodice hugging your figure. It’s demure, but the gold necklace—a 37 sitting prettily on your exposed chest—draws the eye down to your cleavage, a sexy twist to the otherwise sweet, shy, virtuous look. Thick, feathery wings glitter on your back, enhancing the angelic look, complete with a pretty, glittering rhinestone crown—symbolic of a halo.

A light to his dark, day to his night, heaven to his hell. Andrei’s angel.

His brand on you runs far deeper than his name etched onto your back at his games, and though your claim on him is invisible, he wears it proudly on his chest, seizing every opportunity to show you off as his girl. It’s been there since before he made you his girlfriend, officially, but it’s only grown since then in the last year that you’ve been together.

Tonight is no exception. Andrei’s hand lingers on your side, a silent message to anyone who would dare to question who you belong to. You’re not typically one for the whole possession thing, but you can’t deny him—not when he looks at you like that.

You mingle, sipping on your cocktail, enjoying the night of frivolity—one of the last before the final push of the season and preparation for playoffs begins. Nykki and Martin make their way to you two, and eventually, the two boys depart in favor of who knows what shenanigans.

Across the room, talking to two pretty leather-clad demons, is the handsome brunette from your past. His handsome, warm smile is plastered across his face, no doubt letting some pretty words doused in honey drip from his mouth. You ignore the pang of—something—that bubbles in your chest at the sight, not even wanting to spend the time identifying what it is.

As if he can sense it, his eyes glance up and lock with yours for the briefest of moments. A smirk plays at the corner of his lips as he lifts his beer to his mouth, winking so quickly you’re not sure if you imagined it. The next moment, he’s back to his flirtatious antics, laughing jovially at the taller of the two girls flanking either side of him.

You return to your conversation with Nykki, though you feel his gaze flitting back to you, burning a hole in your side, tempting you to look his way. Glittering disco balls hang from the ceiling, illuminating the walls with the light from the candles’ flames, and you ignore the urge to glance over at him again.

“Your outfit is so cute,” Nykki’s saying, fingers caressing the feathers on your wings. “And I love your wings!”

With a smile, you thank her. “I was going for a bit of a sexy angel vibe, you know?”

“I’m sure Andrei appreciates that very much,” she replies with a knowing smirk and a gentle nudge of your elbow. You chance a look back to the corner of the room, but the handsome brunette you’ve been making eyes at is gone; you don’t dare to turn your head to look for him, not standing next to Nykki.

Soon enough, she gets called away, and you’re left alone, uncomfortably vulnerable at a party where you still don’t quite feel like you belong, despite having attended several events as Andrei’s other half. Swirling the ice in your cocktail glass, you’re about to down the rest of your drink so that you can head back to the bar before you search for your boyfriend. As the rim of the glass touches your lips, you feel a looming presence approach your left side.

“Should’ve known you’d copy me,” says a voice that you know all too well. Out of instinct, your head turns and you’re blessed with the sight of Brady, up close and personal. His dark hair, peppered with gray, is messy, styled that way, a strand falling lazily in his face—he looks more like James Dean than an angel, with the suave and confident demeanor.

“I think I look way more angelic than you,” you say, eyeing the loosely buttoned linen top and expanse of his chest. He looks so effortlessly cool, the high-waisted, wide-legged ivory slacks hanging loosely as he’s leaned against the wall with an air of nonchalant swagger.

He watches you, a smug smile tugging at his lips. The beer bottle rests loosely between two fingers and his thumb. “Take a picture. It’ll last longer.”

Your face grows hot at the callout and your eyes dart away, embarrassed. You’re sure he’s smirking now, feeling the burn from his gaze.

“You do look beautiful, though.”

Brady’s voice is lower as he says it, almost like he’s dropped the confident, playboy facade. You thank him shyly, and in the blink of an eye, the curtain’s back up, the smirk plastered back on his face.

“Where’s your man?” he asks casually. He might as well have been glancing at his nails, but you have the feeling his question is far from innocent.

“Think he’s out playing Spikeball on the patio,” you reply, head craning to try and spot him through the window. He’s exactly where you thought, grinning after slamming the ball into the net, fist bumping Marty in celebration. You smile.

“And he left you alone? Looking like that?”

You shoot Brady a glance, the bold flirtation alerting you to his potential motives. It is his birthday, after all, and you certainly gave him a birthday to remember last year.

Your eyebrow raises. “What’s it to you?”

“Well,” he says, slipping a hand into his pocket, “I know if you were my girl, I’d be fucking you over the counter in the bathroom right now, dressed like that.”

Heat floods your body, white hot and scorching straight through your bloodstream at his blunt words. You sip at your drink, desperate for something to alleviate the dryness in your throat. “That’s not very angelic of you to say, Saint Skjei.”

“Aww, but baby, we both know you’re far from angelic. Don’t we?”

This time, in addition to the warmth on your cheeks, you also feel a deep throb between your legs. His words beckon a flashback of strong hands—4 of them—caressing your body, driving you to the height of pleasure; of the feeling of being so delightfully full.

“Baby, come outside and—oh, shit, hey, Skjeisy,” Andrei’s deep voice echoes, veering from his path to you to give his teammate a clap on his back. “Birthday brother.”

Brady offers your boyfriend a wide grin and a clink of his bottle against Andrei’s glass. Your cheeks burn as they flank you, tall and looming and so large compared to you. The memory of last year’s celebration lingers, flooding your mind with a foggy heat that suddenly makes it a little bit hard to breathe.

“What’re you up to?” he asks, looking at you with a smile, like he can see the mist clouding your brain. “What’d I miss?”

“Just telling your beautiful girlfriend how fuckable she looks,” Brady says, unabashed. If you weren’t used to his antics by now, you’d be surprised at his boldness.

Andrei pauses for the briefest of moments, registering the implication behind his friend’s words before he’s turning to look at you, a mischievous expression on his face. “She does, doesn’t she?”

By now, your pulse is racing, practically sweating under the heated gaze of both men standing before you. You watch both of their eyes roving over your figure, undoubtedly envisioning filthy things; you wonder if either of them notice the way your pulse beats in your throat.

“Malyshka, tell him what I told you earlier tonight.” Andrei’s command is gentle, light-hearted, but there’s a longing behind them.

Surging heat goes straight to your cheeks, burning at having to repeat Andrei’s words. You glance at him, and he nods encouragingly. So you swallow, murmuring, “Y-you said you were gonna fuck me how I deserved to be fucked tonight.”

Amusement flickers in Brady’s eyes, along with a blue flame that matches the one glowing inside you. “Oh yeah? How’s that?”

“Like the only girl lucky enough to fuck me on my birthday,” Andrei finishes for you. A statement of pride; pride in the ownership you have over him, too.

The fire in Brady’s irises grows, burning bright. You watch an entire cinema of filthy thoughts run through his mind; you’re sure all three of you are thinking the same thing—it’s Brady’s birthday, too. And you are a lucky, lucky girl.

Tension is thick in your little triangle, almost like you’re sizing each other up. Andrei’s eyes dance to yours, and he presses a gentle kiss to your cheek, whispering in your ear, “You want him to come home with us, dorogoy?”

Your gaze locks with Brady’s, who couldn’t have heard your boyfriend’s question, but looks like he’s waiting for your answer all the same. Keeping your eyes on his melted chocolate ones, your only reply is a subtle nod, and you feel Andrei’s smile against your cheek.

Twenty minutes later, you step into Andrei’s apartment after the world’s most excruciating Uber ride with the heat of Brady’s leg pressed against yours, his hand drawing slow, teasing circles on the inside of your thigh. Andrei had sat in the passenger seat, making idle conversation with the driver, Brady chiming in regularly, as if he wasn’t driving you into a slow descent into insanity. It was almost enough to make you mad, had you not been spending all of your effort trying not to make a mess on the Uber’s leather seats.

You watch the way Brady’s eyes flare with heat when he follows the two of you into the kitchen, eyeing the quartz countertop. His eyebrow arches with a glance at Andrei, a silent message sent in the quiet of his apartment. The brunette slinks up beside you, a warm hand caressing your waist, and all at once you remember.

“I’d be fucking you over the counter in the bathroom right now, dressed like that.”

He catches your eye, a wink at you as if he knows you’re remembering his words. “So pretty.”

“So are you,” you whisper shyly. His lips curl into a grin, making him look even more handsome.

Brady stalks closer to you, all too similar to a predator stalking its prey; the only thing missing is David Attenborough’s dulcet tones, narrating his actions like a wildlife documentary. Despite the itch in the tips of your fingers to touch his skin, to drag your hands through his hair, you back away from him until you’re caught between the kitchen island and his large, looming body. Andrei seems content to watch the scene in front of him play out, standing behind you on the opposite side of the island.

“Wanna kiss you,” Brady says, voice barely above a whisper as his eyes move to your lips. Your throat bobs in anticipation as you feel the edge of the countertop pressed into your lower back, trapped between Brady’s body and the island. “Can I?”

You nod, but you see Brady’s eyes flick behind you, silently seeking approval from your boyfriend. Andrei must have given it, for the next moment, Brady’s smiling, hand moving to thread through the curls you’d styled earlier that day. His lips brush against yours, feather light, teasing, waiting.

The pause is agonizing, time momentarily standing still as your heart thuds against your chest before Brady finally, finally presses forward to kiss you fully. It’s sweet, far sweeter than the mischievous glint in his eye or the seductive lines he’d traced on your leg in the Uber; for a moment, he really is the angel he’s dressed as instead of the carefully hidden sinner’s persona.

It doesn’t take long for Brady to deepen the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours as his hands move from your waist to knead at the globes of your ass. His lips curl upward as he swallows your moan, lifting you easily to set you on the countertop. Warm hands slide up the front of your bare thighs, pushing the skirt of your dress up to reveal bare, sensitive skin.

The shift in position allows you to press your body into him, knees settling on either side of his hips as he steps between your legs. Your makeout gradually shifts from sweet and timid to passionate and scorching, whimpers slipping out of your throat as his hands slide the straps of your wings off your shoulders.

Brady’s lips trail over your jawline, sending a shiver down your spine when his lips find the spot on your neck that makes your toes curl. Your head falls back, allowing him easier access to suck a mark into the tender skin. He places a hand behind your head, supporting your neck, guiding you slowly down onto your back.

The countertop is cool against your bare shoulders, your large, feathery wings no longer digging into your skin. You shiver, not from the temperature of the quartz, but the heat from Brady’s gaze as he tears his lips away from you, standing slowly. His hands blaze fire down your legs, trailing a fingertip lightly down your calf before grasping an ankle in each hand, making a slow show of spreading your legs.

“Forgot you like to wear these little tiny things you call underwear,” he muses, running a thumb along the sodden lace covering your modesty.

Andrei, no longer interested in sitting on the sidelines, lets his palm coast over your chest, over your breast, over the bunched up fabric from your skirt, feeling for himself what Brady describes. “You’re soaked already, malyshka.”

Already, just the touch of their hands on your body lights it on fire, and you sigh as Brady’s thumbs rub gentle circles into your calves. Your pulse quickens, nipples instantly hardening when Andrei pushes the top of your corset top down your torso, freeing your breasts. His hand offers a small reprieve from the cool air when it massages one of your breasts, humming approvingly at the way your spine arches into his touch.

“He’s good with his hands, isn’t he?” Brady coos.

You nod, and Andrei smirks at you. Lord knows how many times he’d brought you to a euphoric release with just his hands alone, skilled and strong and wicked in their promise. As if to prove the point, he pinches your peaked nipple between two fingers, earning a yelp from your mouth. But then his hand trails farther, two large fingers digging into the damp lace and tugging it to the side; you gasp quietly at the cool air that hits your most intimate area, the sound melding into more of a moan when you see the heat in Brady’s eyes as he gazes at your folds.

The dynamic is clear: Andrei, revealing you to his friend, presenting you on a platter—or, in this case, his kitchen counter.

“I didn’t get to taste you last time,” Brady comments, his voice low and husky. “Not really.”

Your core clenches at his words, anticipation buzzing through you. Brady smiles, licking his lips. Above you, Andrei nods once, and the brunette needs no more encouragement to sink lower until he’s eye-level with your cunt. He draws a finger through your center, collecting some of the dripping nectar with a click of his tongue.

“This for him,” he asks, jerking his head toward Andrei, who has resumed the gentle knead and massage of your breasts, “or me?”

Another pinch of your nipple has you whimpering. “Wh-who says it can’t be both?”

A low chuckle sounds from Brady’s throat, a smug smile curling up on his handsome face. “Knew you liked being shared, pretty girl, just didn’t know how much.”

He delves into your core like a man starved, long laves of his tongue ending with a flick against your sensitive clit. By instinct, your back arches and your hips raise to meet his mouth, seeking out more of the pleasure that blooms through your body as he presses his face against you. “So sweet, baby.”

Brady is good with his mouth, and he knows it. Expertly, he alters between flat licks of his tongue and sucking gently on your clit, with a precision only someone with experience can manage. It doesn’t take him long to remember what makes you tick, how you gush around his tongue when he slides it inside of you and fucks you with it.

Just as the energy starts to build deep within you, you’re crying out when he abruptly tears himself away from you. “Brady—”

“Hmm?” he asks, sharing an amused look with Andrei. “What’s wrong?”

“Need—need your mouth.” You can’t help the whine that accompanies your words, the desperation that crawls under your skin.

“Aren’t you forgetting someone?”

You lick your lips, guiltily glancing back to catch Andrei, an eyebrow raised and an amused smirk painted on his face.

“He has a nice mouth,” you say, as if to justify your unrestrained desire for the man who isn’t your boyfriend.

Andrei hums. “So do you, kisa. Can you do something for me?”

“Anything.”

“Lay your head back for me.”

You do as told, and Andrei tugs you toward him a few inches so your head is leaning off of the countertop. “Open your mouth for me, baby.”

Andrei leans down to kiss you, soft and slow, and you sigh into him, the familiarity of his mouth helping to alleviate some of your nerves; the pulse between your legs is all but forgotten under his attention. As he pulls away, he purses his lips, dropping a long, thick wad of saliva into your open mouth. You feel the slow drip of it against your tongue, slipping down your throat as you swallow obediently.

“Khoroshaya deovochka,” he murmurs as he stands to his full height. Good girl.

The praise makes your nipples tighten as you shiver. You can feel Brady’s hot breath on your inner thigh, can feel the heat from his gaze as he takes in the sight of your open, wet, waiting core. His lips against your skin makes you jolt slightly, a sigh breathed out against Andrei’s tip pressed against your lips.

“God, I missed eating this pretty pussy,” Brady says, his tongue flitting against your entrance, teasing you. You can feel the way your pussy throbs under his attention, like she knows she’s mere moments away from relief.

Andrei chuckles lowly, his eyes no doubt stuck on the brunette working his way between your thighs. Your own throat bobs in anticipation, waiting for Andrei to push his tip past your lips and into your open mouth.

Then, as if following a countdown that only they could hear, Brady’s fingers broach your eager entrance, simultaneous with the gentle push of Andrei’s length to meet your tongue. Swiftly, steadily, they fill you up with a practiced precision that makes your toes curl, the sensation so complete and fulfilling—pun intended.

Your Russian is patient, feeling the gasp as Brady works another finger into you before his hand slips into your hair, holding your neck steady while he presses his hips forward. He tests his own restraint, inching in and out while your mouth and throat accommodate and adjust to his size, your tongue flatting against the top of him.

Brady’s mouth joins his fingers, sure to catch the slick pooling around your entrance; he probes and teases with the tip of his tongue, taking his time to re-learn what makes your spine arch and the breath catch in your throat. He groans, exhaling lowly against your center, eyes fluttering closed as he savors the taste of you.

“So fucking sweet. Svech, do me a favor and fuck her face a little harder so I can feel her gush on my tongue.”

“Aye aye,” Andrei says with a smirk, a mock salute before his other hand is placed on the other side of your neck, stabilizing your face before he gently picks up the pace of his thrusts. Your eyes water at the intrusion, at the different angle of his cock in your throat, breathing steadily through your nose.

Soon enough, your boyfriend has a consistent rhythm, and any whine you want to let out is blocked by his length lodged in your airway. He hums, smugness dripping from his voice, “Love watching the outline of my cock in your throat, kisa. You take me so well.”

The praise alone makes heat surge to your core, right into Brady’s eager mouth, and he moans, choking out, “That’s it, baby.”

His pace picks up, directly correlating to the flutter in your belly, to Brady’s tongue and fingers working in tandem to drive you closer and closer to the edge. Your hips roll against his face, seeking out that delicious friction that will have you hurtling into euphoria. His head is too far to reach with your arms, so you occupy your hands by taking to your breasts, massaging and tweaking at your nipples while Andrei continues his rough thrusts. Streaks of saliva marr your face, frothy and wet, leaving filthy evidence on his usually pristine kitchen floor.

For a fleeting second, you wonder what this must look like; you, spread wide and waiting on your boyfriend’s counter, getting stuffed at both ends by two handsome, talented men, both eager to drive you to your peak. It’s the image of your body between them that has your release barreling through you, a choked groan sounding out despite the intrusion in your throat. Brady groans, mingled curses and praises slipping out while he works you through the waves of your climax.

Andrei doesn’t let up, not until Brady’s pulling away from the apex of your thighs, the scar on his chin coated with your orgasm. He helps you up, admiring the swell of your lips and the tear tracks on your face before he smiles and presses a wet, musky kiss against your lips. “So pretty. Even prettier when your face is a mess like this.”

“You wanna take her cunt this time? My treat.” Andrei asks with a grin wide enough to reveal his missing tooth.

“I’d be honored,” Brady says with a mock nod of his head, his eyes flicking to yours with a mischievous grin.

“C’mon, malyshka,” Andrei murmurs, lifting you easily in his arms to take you into the bedroom. He deposits you on the bed, positioning you to leave room for Brady to follow and kneel before you. Your eyes draw to the bulge in his pants, the thin fabric doing little to hide his modesty as Andrei helps you to remove what’s left of your costume.

“You want it?” he asks in a teasing tone.

“You got to taste me,” you say, blinking up at him. “It’s only fair I get to return the favor.”

Andrei sniggers at your quick remark. “So eager, my pretty little slut.”

The name sends heat coursing through your body, radiating particularly between your legs. Brady moves to remove his expensive trousers, and soon, you’re presented with a mouth-watering view of his very impressive, very erect length. Your tongue slips out to lick your lips, eager to feel the weight of him in your mouth.

Of course, Brady can’t resist teasing you, gripping himself loosely as he taps his tip against your cheek. Your mouth opens, impatient, but he doesn’t give you what you want; not yet. Instead, he drags the head across your lips, slow, teasing, agonizing.

“What a good girl,” he murmurs, almost like he’s talking to himself, but then he winks at you. “So obedient.”

Brady’s instruction is simple, just a soft, “tongue out,” before he’s running his tip over it, pressing himself firmly against your tongue. You sigh out at the taste of him, precum already dripping onto your waiting taste buds, earnestly wrapping your lips around his tip as you take him into your mouth.

Beside you, Andrei draws the slightest attention back to himself by divesting himself of his clothes, dropping unceremoniously to the floor. You feel a warm, large hand running along the curve of your ass, giving the flesh a squeeze before his fingers probe lightly at your entrance, testing the slickness he finds there.

As you work at Brady’s length, jaw opening wider to fit more of him into your mouth, Andrei’s hand slides up just a few inches higher, and all at once the agreement from earlier sinks in.

If Brady was going to fuck your pussy, then that means…

Almost like he’s reading your mind, Andrei chuckles behind you when you gasp with realization. Not long after, the pad of his finger presses gently against the tight bud, teasing and prodding. For a brief moment, you tear yourself away from Brady to crane your head, just in time to see Andrei spitting onto his fingers, coating them with his saliva before bringing his hand back down to your backside. He smirks at you, then winks at Brady as his first finger teases you, your mouth falling open at the feeling—not enough.

But Brady clears his throat, not pleased with the lack of attention, and his hand gently turns your head back to face him. “Back to work, sweet girl.”

Ever eager to serve, you do as you’re told, only this time, you moan around Brady’s length as Andrei presses the tip of his finger past the puckered ring. Slowly, he eases it in, carefully testing the depth with slow, gentle pulses as your body relaxes to the foreign sensation. Your tongue lolls against Brady, whimpering as you do your best to stay focused on him.

Whether it’s to help you or just to show some dominance, you aren’t sure, but soon Brady’s hand is threading through your hair, gripping it into a ponytail at the base of your skull. Slowly, he pushes your head forward, watching the way his length slides between your lips. The beautiful brown of his eyes lock with yours, monitoring your reaction as he gradually increases the pace. His hold is firm, the tug on your hair just hard enough to have you shivering.

Soon enough, he’s fucking your throat, and Andrei’s eased two fingers into you, priming you for what’s to come. Spit, drool, and tears track your face, a frothy mixture pooling at your lips when Brady finally pulls out. He smiles, admiring his handiwork. “Love that throat of yours.”

Andrei hums behind you, his thumb brushing against your clit and nearly making you jump. “Baby, you’re dripping. You like when Brady fucks that pretty mouth?”

You nod, licking your lips with a smile. Brady winks at you. “Love fucking all of your holes, darlin’.”

A fresh wave of heat gushes between your legs, accompanied by a slap to your ass and a Russian curse. His fingers flex inside of you gently working you open. “Get to it, then,” you challenge him.

“Aw, baby, I’m flattered,” he says with another smug smile. “But I think I want to watch that pretty boyfriend of yours fuck your pretty little ass first.”

Your heart flutters at his words, and you turn to look at Andrei as he’s retrieving his bottle of lube from the nightstand drawer. The liquid is cold on your skin, warmed quickly by his hand, finger pressing into you. He eases you open, adding another finger, and then another, until he deems you ready for his more than considerable length.

“Ready, malyshka?”

You cast a glance at Brady, who smirks at you with darkened eyes, like the sight of you on your hands and knees and three fingers in your ass is nearly sending him over the edge. “Fuck me, Drei.”

When Andrei presses into you, you wince at the stretch as you adjust to the sensation. He sucks in a breath, murmuring a low curse in Russian. Gripping your sides, his hands squeeze tightly as he waits patiently for your approval to keep going.

Brady hums as he greedily drinks in the sight of you. He murmurs low, filthy promises to you, watching intently as Andrei patiently pushes deeper; your mouth falls open as your body adjusts to the stretch, his more-than-adequate width nearly enough to make your eyes cross.

“Doin’ so good for me,” is Andrei’s gentle purr, groaning as he starts low, shallow thrusts. Your fingers grip into the bedsheets, gasping out. By the time he’s thrusting at a steady pace, tears are already pricking at your eyes from how blissfully sinful it feels, his tip directly nudging into the spot that makes you see stars.

Andrei fucks you thoroughly, until you’re a mumbling, shaking mess. Your body arches as his large hand traces its way down your spine, coming to rest at the base of your neck; he presses you down into the mattress, just slightly, just enough to make your breathing a bit more labored. He leans forward, too, and you cry out when the action shifts his cock even deeper inside of you. Lips dot gentle kisses against your shoulder blades, accompanied by slow, shallow thrusts as your body trembles beneath him.

“Come,” is all he says; a command and a plea all at once. He doesn’t have to say anything else, only keep his movements steady until you cry out loudly as your release radiates through every bone in your body.

Your Russian is patient, coaxing out the final waves of your orgasm as your thighs tremble from the force of it. Brain foggy, you register the feeling of fingers carding through your hair, soothing you as your vision begins to come back to you. Soon enough, you float back into reality and Andrei smiles, warm enough to feel your heart start to melt at the sight.

“C’mere,” he says, wrapping his arms solidly around you and falling onto his back, bringing you with him. Brady’s figure steps between your legs, large and looming, his eyes glued to where Andrei’s cock is still stuffed deep inside your hole. All at once, the warmth in your heart quickly turns back into desire, and your core flutters.

“You gonna fuck me, too?” Your voice is laced with challenge, a teasing lilt in your tone.

“You want me to fuck you?” Brady quips, a dark eyebrow raised in amusement. “Want me to fuck this tight little cunt?”

“S’your birthday gift,” you say, and Andrei chest shakes with a chuckle beneath your back. Brady smiles, his eyes dragging to the place in question, spread open and waiting for him.

“Lucky me,” is his hummed response, moving his hand forward to rub a slow circle over your clit with his thumb. You whine, and Andrei pinches your sides in a silent command, holding you steady. He presses a kiss against your shoulder, his weight solid and strong beneath you—holding your body up without any effort, it seems. One of the many, many benefits of having a boyfriend who is a Big Boy.

Brady snaps your attention back to him when he steps closer to the apex of your thighs, fisting his erection as he lines himself up. His eyes, brown and molten, are transfixed on the way the tip of his cock slips into your eager and waiting entrance; he lets out a grunt at the feeling of your tight heat wrapped around him.

You, on the other hand, are completely speechless—you’ve forgotten how to speak entirely, only nonsensical babbling slipping from your mouth. The feeling has you unable to focus on any one thing, consumed by how fucking good it feels to have both of them buried deep.

The two men work in sync, wordless, the same silent telepathy that they used earlier. In. Out. In. Out. Pleasure blossoms between your legs, tingly and warm as it spreads through your core, up your limbs, to the tips of your fingers and toes; you aren’t sure where you end and they begin.

“Kisa,” Andrei’s deep voice rumbles beneath you, murmuring lowly in your ear. “Feel good?”

You open your mouth to reply—yes, God, yes—but all that comes out is a jumbled moan, lilted higher when Brady presses in just that little bit deeper. He laughs, thumbs gripping your thighs tightly as he holds you open. “You kidding, Svech? Your girl loves being stuffed full of dick. These slutty little holes are drooling all over us.”

Brady’s words earn a low flutter—whether in your belly or in another area, you aren’t quite sure—but based on the growl that slips from Andrei, you’re inclined to believe the latter. His hand slinks up your side to massage at your breast, the other branding fingertip-shaped marks into your hip. “That true, dorogoy?”

Because your brain is in the process of being fucked into mush, it’s all you can do to nod, a weak, “Yes” tumbling out of your mouth. His breath is hot against your shoulder, murmurs of Russian curses low in your ear. “How lucky am I, huh? My gorgeous girl, treating me and my friend so good on our birthday.”

The deep purr of praise is like a catalyst to the heat in your veins, setting it ablaze through every cell in your body. Your back arches off of Andrei’s warm torso, and this time you’re sure that you clench tightly around both of them.

“Drei,” you sigh, “please.”

“Please, what?”

“C-come… make me… c-come—”

Brady smiles while his thumb resumes the same steady, circular motion on your clit, like he can’t decide if he’s amused or turned on at your desperate plea. For Andrei, though, it’s no laughing matter; suddenly, his thrusts become even steadier, more sure. He’s determined, hips setting a metronome that contrasts Brady’s pace, speeding up ever so slightly.

When your climax hits, it’s like time stands still: your breath, frozen in your lungs, mouth open in a silent scream, a snapshot taken just as the fire ignites at the place where Andrei and Brady meet inside of you. Your body tenses, spine rigid as your legs begin to shake in Brady’s strong hands, doing little to absorb the ripple effect of your orgasm.

“Shiiiiit,” the brunette groans, amid the mish mash of Russian and English pouring from Andrei’s mouth as his hips slow to a halt, content to feel the way your body writhes and reacts to him.

“Think we need to do this more often,” Andrei says, and you can hear the smirk in his voice; you can see it reflected in Brady’s eyes, predatory, devouring the sight of you below him. He doesn’t need to voice his agreement out loud; it’s clear in the way he can barely resist pulling out of you to help you onto shaky feet, then to your knees on the floor.

With a blink, your gaze floats up between Andrei and Brady, standing over you, each fisting their lengths, glistening with you. Your hands dance their way up your body, brushing your hair out of the way before returning to cup your breasts. “Happy birthday, boys.”

Brady’s eyes darken and Andrei allows a low growl at the sight of you, your breasts pressed together like the sexiest canvas they’ll ever see. Both of them work their hand over their dicks, varying in speed but sharing the same intensity—the same kind of unrestrained desperation, stretching themselves for the final sprint to the finish line.

Andrei’s deep groan comes first, ropes of his release splattering across your decolletage, dripping down into the cleavage you offer. A sharp curse from Brady’s mouth precedes his own peak, cum landing on your chin before sliding down and dripping onto your chest. Your boyfriend’s eyes glitter, watching the drips meld together into a mixture of one.

Without a word, Andrei steps toward you, crouching slightly to run his hands across your chest, gathering some of the cum onto his fingers. His eyes lock with yours and, in silent reply to his silent question, your mouth opens obediently, allowing him to press his first and middle past your lips, pressing onto your tongue.

“Fuck, that’s a good girl,” Brady says, voice a combination of a chuckle and a groan. You suck on his digits, swallowing the salty mixture of them with a flourish.

“Angel,” Andrei muses, making sure you lap every last bit of cum off of his fingers. “She’s an angel.”

———

Bonus mini scene inspired by this video:

That weekend, you’re scrolling on social media when the Canes pregame video pops up. It autoplays, and your eye immediately catches the salt and pepper hair, your heart fluttering a little bit at the sight. Then Andrei’s on the screen, and you’re smiling at seeing him feeling so confident and in his element—he’s where he belongs.

But then you hear Brady say, “What a night!” followed by a loud laugh from Andrei, and your heart stops. They wouldn’t…

It takes another few replays to hear that Brady also says, “It’s a pleasure.”

When Andrei gets home later that night, high from a shutout win and clinching an official playoff spot, his wide smile fades slightly at the sight of you on the bed with your arms folded over your chest.

“Wh–?”

“Tell me what you whispered to Brady before the game,” you say, a glint in your eye.

Your boyfriend pauses, reflecting, then smirks when the memory comes back to him. His eyes flick to yours and his eyebrow raises. “You really wanna know?”

A pointed look is your only reply.

“I told him you still can’t walk today.”