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c-atchafire · 2 years ago

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Happy Birthday - Darklina Fanfiction

Hey I'm Nikki! This is my first attempt at fanfic, so please be nice!

Warnings: smut

IF YOU'RE UNDER 18, PLEASE DON'T READ - THANKS

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After exchanging farewells with Genya, Marie and Nadya at the conclusion of the evening meal, Aleksander had promptly conveyed Alina straight back to her rooms. For a time, he had left her to seek respite in privacy; a life of lonesomeness had made her easily exhaustible in the face of prolonged company. He had managed quite capably on his own, listening to the sounds of splashing water as she had bathed behind her screen. When she had dried and dressed, he had lured her once more through the door to the solar, craving little else than to see her tinker about with the gifts he had collected for her.

As he watches Alina, an amusing thought comes to mind. He is tantamount to a beast surveying his mate with the kill he had dragged home, absorbed in the satisfaction of providing for her, of filling her home and heart with the objects and memories of his infatuation.

“I love all of your gifts very much,” Alina is saying, brows angled and lips pursed pensively, “but now I wonder if I did too little for your birthday.”

Reclining against the chaise, he wonders that she doesn’t feel the intensity of his gaze as he watches her run gentle fingers over the bolts of silk and taffeta and damask, cast reverent eyes over the rare tomes, turn priceless jewels in her hand to admire the way the light of the fire throws iridescent shine over deep gold and glittering gems. She is utterly absorbed in her task, save for the abrupt declaration, and he has to mull it over for a moment to determine her meaning.

“Whatever do you mean?” he asks. “You had the entire collection of Galendro’s Fires of the Fold transcribed in full for me. Do you know how rare a thing that is?”

It had easily been the best of the items he had received, notwithstanding the lovely little performance she had put up as his pretty peasant whore. Mm.

“I know,” Alina reassures, biting her lip. “It is just… eighteen presents, Sasha? I only got you one.”

He would wave off her words entirely if not for her fretting disposition, knuckles tense over the open velvet-lined case in her grasp. Dragging himself from his comfortable sprawl, he advances upon Alina’s form and plucks the contents from inside.

“It’s not a competition, sweetling,” he reminds her, twisting her hair over one shoulder to affix the necklace around her throat. It truly is a monstrosity, he thinks, utterly pleased.

The metal is akin to delicate lacework, spilling a waterfall of gleaming gems down her decolletage, an obscene display of wealth and status. Alina turns to show off the gleaming column of her neck, knowing all too well how enthralled he is by the sight of jewels he had procured upon her figure. He runs his fingers down the line of her jaw, trailing across the lustrous pattern of ruby and onyx inlaid throughout.

“But, if you truly feel recompense is necessary,” he continues, toying with the collar of her shift with lip quirked at the shiver elicited from her by his touch, “you’ll take this off and get on your knees.”

Alina swallows, nodding. Her eyes are downturned in a veil of timidity, though he can see that mischief of hers playing at the corner of her mouth, struggling not to expose itself as she bunches the fabric up over her hips and pulls it over her head. She is careful not to catch against the gilt lattice of the necklace as she tugs the cloth free from her hair and lays it over the table.

He stills her hands as they creep to her nape, no doubt to remove his gift.

“Leave it,” he commands softly. “I want you on the rug. Go on.”

As biddable as ever, Alina strolls toward the hearth and arranges herself demurely upon the plush surface that demarcates the sitting area by the fire. For all her nakedness, she does look demure. A soft, open countenance, wide sweetheart eyes angled to him in plain expectancy, hands clasped on her lap like a penitent and shielding the convergence of her thighs from view… the gleam of his ownership as secure as a fist locked around her throat. He wants to ruin that innocence.

His little Alinochka barely needs instruction as he stops before her, a line of steel defining the crotch of his pants and threatening to rupture the material. Like a spoiled child unwrapping her next present, she tugs impatiently at his laces, withdrawing that lovely tease of pressure to yank his pants down far enough to free his cock and stones. He threads his fingers into her hair as she takes eager pulls with her hot, wet mouth, tongue swirling across the flange.

“Mm,” he moans, pushing forward into that welcome suction to rub the smooth pliability of her soft palate. She receives him with frantic little gulps, a well-trained slut zealously performing her duty, and the resistance of her contracting muscles as she gags hugs perfectly against the sensitive nerve endings along his head. “Good.”

He extracts himself from her with a hiss, wiping the stray seed that blurts out at the feel of the air hitting saliva-slick skin over her tongue in farewell; it slips wetly out of the corner of her open lips, a pearlescent trail over luminous flesh.

“Messy girl,” he chides, catching the spill with his cockhead and feeding it back into Alina’s waiting mouth, grunting at the feel of that cheeky tongue licking up the droplets keenly. He’s almost tempted to finish there – the gods know she’d be an enthusiastic little vessel – but he has other plans tonight.

“Sasha?” she asks uncertainly, a sulky indignance casting itself across her face as he steps back, breeches drawn up, though he’s left the ties undone.

He settles himself in the armchair, admiring the sight she makes on the ground before him.

“Touch yourself, little saint,” he says lowly, nostrils flaring in amusement at the way her gaze flickers from him and her brows pull in. “You know how.”

“But – I thought you wanted–”

“What I want,” he cuts across her, “is for you to lean back, spread your legs, and play with your little cunt until you peak. Be a good girl for me.”

He watches with an iron grip on the meat of his leg as Alina slowly shifts into position, settling back on one arm with knees knocking shyly together. Biting her lip, she peers up at him through her lashes as she parts your thighs wide. She bares her silken cunny to his ogling observation, blooming petals parted and glossy with dew; the sight jolts through his cock, a white-hot bolt of eye-watering hunger that fizzes electric.

Alina dips a finger into the flirtatious wink of her entrance, collecting the slip that oozes out and drawing it up to pass firmly over her pearl. Tossing her dark hair back, she sighs and relaxes into her display, lids fluttering closed.

“Like this, Sasha?” she questions, high and breathy. He digs his nails in hard at the sight of her, bejewelled throat and sodden cunt both gleaming in the firelight, shining stamps of his possession wanton at his feet. “Am I pretty for you?”

“Beautiful,” he praises, for how could he not? She are cock-achingly, heart-breakingly stunning with her head tilted back, smile playing at her lips and tits bobbing gently with the motion of her hand between her legs. She huffs at the praise, sliding one then two fingers into herself, grinding the heel of her palm against the apex of her pleasure. “The prettiest whore with the loveliest little cunt. Add another – there we go. Fuck yourself harder, you can take it.”

She follows his direction instantly, hooking a third digit inside and driving against herself quicker. The squelch is loud and lewd in the silence, and the elevated pace makes you whine, belly tensing and releasing with her efforts. Her face has begun to shine with the evidence of her labours, and she pants furiously as her hips work in tandem to her hand’s movements. He has no choice but to stroke at himself to relieve the ache of wanting.

“Are you going to come for me, precious?” he taunts, watching the flush of impending climax work its way up her chest, a striking backdrop against the warm hues of the necklace. The gems spark molten with the agitated squirming of their wearer, clinking metallic against her skin. “My collared pup.”

Alina’s breath hitches at the degradation. Smirking, he presses forward, enticing her to her end.

“Such an obedient little girl, aren’t you? My gold around your neck, playing with that greedy cunt at my leisure. Maybe I’ll keep you there on the floor and spend myself on your new jewels, add some white to all that red and black–”

The vulgarity drives her to the pinnacle as he knew it would, and Alina crests with a shocked yelp, thighs quaking. She writhes as her fingers piston, bringing herself through the height of it with desperate intensity. When she is winded and wilting, he stands, preparing to make good on his declaration.

Alina sprawls back onto the rug and out of his reach.

“Inside me, please,” she implores him, holding the plush puffed folds of her core apart in invitation. Her feet arch reflexively as she knocks against her sensitised pearl, teeth digging into her lower lip.

“You won’t like it,” he says. His cock judders in his grip at the sight. “You always protest when I fuck you past your peak.”

Oh, but he wants to. There are fewer sights more exquisite than Alina’s pained face streaked with tears as he makes her take the brunt of him in her spent cunny, little ah ah ahs of distressed overburdening escaping from her mouth at each callous thrust. Wet and hot and tight, the clutch of her is always perfect, the greatest provocation to spill within that undulant sleeve.

“I want that,” she agrees, coquettish and insistent, smearing slip across her lips with cuntdrenched fingers. Those very same fingers disappear into her mouth; she hums in approval as she suckle on the flavour of her satisfaction. Another dribble of seed trickles from his cockhead, slavering and raring for the chance at pillaging those promised depths, and the icy shiver of need grinds in the divots of his spine. “It’s my birthday, Sasha. Please?”

If you insist.

Aleksander all but tears his shirt off, kicking off his pants with the same veracity before kneeling between her parted thighs, crowding over her with skin and hands and lips. Alina squeals and twist against him as he aligns himself with her rippling entry and punches straight in to the root, already pounding away to the metronome of his pulse. His arms are locked under her back, her own tossed around his neck and pulling him close, bodies merged so that there is naught to feel but skin and sweat from heart to hip.

He can feel the rasp of his throat as he vocalises his pleasure, though he cannot hear over the thunder of his blood in his ears – the rhythmic vibrations against his neck as he thrusts again and again and again are the only indicators of her own exclamations that he can comprehend. Words are spilling from his mouth, feral, half-formed sounds. Fucking fuck, sweetest girl with the tightest baby cunt, he thinks he’s saying, I’ll fuck you so hard you can’t walk–

His climax is a deliverance, a cleansing surge that knocks the air out of him and sweeps the spend from his system as he slams all the way to the hilt, pouring all the roaring, pent-up sensation into her like a spilling jar. He crushes himself to her, mouthing insensately at the salt trails over her cheeks and the sapidity of her perspiration, waiting for the reverberation of his blood rushing through his veins to slow.

He follows the trajectory of dampness down the line of Alina’s jaw, dipping his tongue into the hollow of her throat through the mesh of the necklace.

“You’ll need to take it easier on me, sweetling,” he murmurs, descending to pull a crinkled nipple into his mouth. “I’m getting too old for this.”

Alina tremors against him, gentle hand carding through his hair.

“You are only – what? Four hundred?” is her response, giggling when he grunts at the reminder of his age. “Is that not the prime of a man’s life?”

“I don’t think that statement takes wanton Sun Summoners into account – unless the fountain of youth is somehow between your thighs. In that case, I’ll live forever.”

She grouses when he slides free. The flames in the hearth flicker in hues of amber and honey over her skin, giving her flush a dreamy glow as he ventures down to the very place that rules him. He coos sympathetically when Alina twitches at the feel of his nose and lips parting her folds, raw entrance swollen and squeezing out opaline fluid that drips between the round cheeks of her arse; a peaches-and-cream treat, oozing and quivering under his forceful scrutiny. His favourite.

The mingling evidence of their activities bursts piquant across his palate as he laps at her, the caustic taste of his spend leaking from her inflamed cunt a tangible reminder of his claim. Alina sighs soft, sweet sounds of contentment as he works her gently, a soothing balm to heal the affliction his cock had wrought, little hand clasped over his on her thigh. He turns his palm to hold hers.

She finishes with shaky breaths and a languid arch of her back, heels digging into his sides as the bliss sweeps through her. After suckling at her through her peak, he presses tender lips against her bud, crawling his way back over her. He settles into the cradle of her hips as her arms reach up to him, bringing him toward her for a kiss and moaning at the slick and seed that lingers on his tongue.

“Thank you, Sasha,” Alina whispers, lilac eyes impossibly fond as she stares up at him in wonder. “This has been – the best birthday.”

He knows then that his overindulgence had been utterly worth it. While he had endured rolled eyes and playful japes and even her own fussy uncertainty throughout the day, the unbridled joy colouring Alina’s face in this moment is all that he had hoped for. This is the most exquisite sight in the known world, he decides, better than gilded whores or Grisha revels or shadows in flight. It is here and now – his little Alinochka, his Sun Saint, laying beneath him, aglow in the light of the fire and smiling.

“I’m glad,” he replies, pursuing the urge to brush his lips against the corner of her mouth. “Though,” he considers audibly, “the night is still young. I got you eighteen presents; let’s try for eighteen peaks, shall we?”

“Oh, gods,” Alina laughingly complains, acquiescing readily to his rearrangement of her legs over his shoulders. He lowers himself back down to where she is sleek and shiny and waiting for him, wrapping arms around her thighs and nuzzling into her warmth. “Happy birthday to me, indeed!”

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Really proud of this, let me know what you think! Thanks

#this is plagiarism

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