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mvniro · 4 months

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. . . (🍷) ֶָ֢ 𔓘 SPREAD YOUR WINGS TO TAKE POSSESSION OF WHAT'S YOUR'S ; a fyodor dostoyevsky fic.❞

˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🍷 ꒱ . . . holy shit i need to make an actual smut comeback. :/ @averagebsdenjoyer give your kids now.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🍷 ꒱ . . . tw ; politician!fyodor, fem!reader, escort!reader, exstripper!reader, nsfw, boob biting, breast fucking, angst in some way and yeah that all i remember.

sin and lust ran around as they swirled with the wind, settled on top of the preety drinks and flowed inside the mouth of the one drinking, settling on their conscience before pulling out their courage to do what one wouldn't do normally and when the courage blindly took over and buried every emotion within, sin and lust giggled.

"here is your drink," you look over your shoulder to look at the bartender handling a customer their large glass of vodka, but before the customer could feel your eyes on them, you look back towards the dance floor again to continue observing the many intoxicated and sober bodies dancing, gridning against each other and doing lord knows what for the gobo lights above aren't really helping to look at each person and where their hands are.

you pull the silk robe closer to your body to make sure it is covering atleast till your midthighs as below them the eyes of those curious could only see your fishnet stockings and heels, kicking your legs as you hum for your customer to be here, but when you glanced at your phone screen a minute ago, you were waved at by disappointment of knowing the time and that he won't be here before half an hour, at his usual time.

being punctual is his style after all, the thought makes you smile which soon disappears when you feel perverted eyes of those around you trying to check you out and to find faults in your tied around robe to catch a glimpse of your skin which is meant to be reserved only for the man who can rival the greatest genius and defeat him pathetically.

you stand up from the stool with a small frown tugging at your lips, taking your phone from the black counter before you saunter away and on your way through the sidelines to avoid bumping into the slaves of lust and sin, your hand felt the tickling feeling as your phone vibrated and it felt the same when the man you are waiting for talks to you and you feel the same ticklish feeling in your stomach that your hand had the chance to experience right now.

tilting your head down to glance at the screen which illuminated to bring you hope and excitement, you read over the message quickly and cautiously yet it would've been fine even if you didn't since it seems as if you have it memorized like a prayer. the message which informed you of the arrival of the man in a few minutes.

you quickly turned on your heels to walk towards the bar again and when the dirt of perverted gazes tried to fall on your body, the shield of reassurance protected you from it. reassurance in the sense that the man who practically has ownership in a sense over you will be here quite soon, your hands work like those of a skilled craftsman as you put a bottle of dom perignon champagne in a bucket filled with ice while grabbing a white wine glass with the other hand before you make your way upstairs using the elevator permitted for staff and vip's only.

the bucket is heavy and hence why you placed it on the floor as soon as the elevator doors closed with you inside it, you turned to look and examine your reflection in the mirror behind to deem yourself ready to meet him. your leg bounced to excrete some ounces of excitement and anticipation out of your body.

as the elevator door opens to lead you into the world of lewd luxury, the stars from through the glassed walls twinkle in the sky but the moon pays them no heed and rather gazed down at the group of black cars driving on the empty roads for who else if not the rare percentage would drive on the streets at midnight, not those with tiring routines and families and not those with sorrows and despair but those who rules the night, the twinkling of the stars being the same as the shine of the silver ring on the svelte finger of the one who sat in the middle car.

the black coating of the car pays their respect to the sheet of black spreading over the night sky as if informing the sky that they aren't the rulers of night but the svelte man sitting in one of those five automobiles is, the same man due to whom your heart began to practice gymnastics and is now performing the flips etc., your futile attempts to calm your excited heart had only made your task of scanning your card on the door to unlock it difficult.

your foot took the lead by nudging the door to open after which you stepped in and immediately took off your heels, you closed the door behind you by nudging it against the door. the moment you place your feet on the soft red carpet, a gasp almost too inaudible had left your lips for the sensation traveled through the soles of your feet to your arms.

you had cleaned the table, the mirror to make sure it remains free of stains, lipstick marks and scratches for the man you serve had his face shaped by god himself who made sure to make the angels look at him in admiration of him and his creation and so, is it not appropriate to serve the perfect man (in your eyes) with the same perfection he always wears on his body?

your hands glided over the leather purple couch to smooth it of its roughness if there is any present as the staff before you made sure to deem this room appropriate for you, the maiden, and now you are doing the same for the swan you stumbled upon once but what made the swan stand out was it wasn't the traditional white one but a black one. yet it served grace as generously, if not more, as the white swan.

you are the ballerina with the way your feet glided across the room from one corner to other as you made sure to scan and evict any little flaw you find in it and after a few minutes when the room was utterly begging for the man it got ready for to grace it with his presence though the room had the wind flowing through the opened window as it's comfort when you began to wear your heels again, the see through white curtains covering the opened windows flowed inwards a bit to distract the room from its temporary dolour when your hands held the edge of the door to pull it with you to close the door as you left.

your phone screen illuminated with brightness of euphoria and as the light fell on your skin, you found your heart get more excited for perhaps your phone's brightness falling on your face in the dim hallway had transferred its euphoria inside you and maybe this theory could be taken to explain why you felt a sudden desperation to reach the entrance as soon as possible to be the first one on whom his eyes fall upon.

and so, in this state of frantic joy, you opted for the stairs instead, skipping one at a time as you quickly skipped downwards with only one goal in your mind ; to reach the bottom of the staircase to make your heart be even more frantic in anticipation and as soon as you skipped over the last step, you did not continue your journey forwards towards the main entrance which is usually where the entry is permitted from but the man we are talking about is not a ordinary man.

status wise, intelligence wise and lookwise -- even adonis would feel green in envy and feel the nimble hands of insecurities seduce him when he gazes into those purple pools of hypnosis which are far more powerful then any spell or magical orbs.

but what does he not know that you do? what makes your head raise high in pride of knowing the secret that not even adonis knows about the man he would surely envy?

the not so ordinary man became one after trials and errors and practices and more practices till he become one with the soul of a mad artist who painted with his fingers and when he saw the absence of red on his palette, he was driven to stab his finger and use his own blood as paint, the not so ordinary man who entered every time from a different route and it made you question how he knows more about this place then you, someone whose nights and evenings pass here, does.

so to explain why you were going towards the back doors can be explained with the childish desire to catch him off guard, impress him by being one step ahead of him which happens once in a blue moon and maybe this is why he always played the part of the passionate charecter who loved his passion even after said passion wounded him and left him unable to walk into the same field again.

you are said passion and you hurt him by making it hard for other women to be on the same caliber as you, to be as pretty as you in his eyes and to make him crave the time of the day to spend with them the way he does with you.

your hands find themselves seeking comfort by pinching on your forearm as you stand patiently infront of the two big doors with bulky men on either side who greet the celebrities and other important and rich figures who can not enter through the front entrance but when minutes pass by with the ticking of the clock, your mind scrambles to pinpoint a reason for his absence after his appointed time had passed and after the most excruciating five minutes of standing in the middle of the stage of loneliness and being guided across it by your rationality, your phone beeps and you do not even need to tilt your head down to look at it to know what it says, the announcement of the victory of the man once again.

it is when you turned around that you were approached by his guard who bowed, handed you a shopping bag of an expensive brand and left as if he had been performing an act with the way his movements were precise, not an ounce of confusion in his movements but you were the opposite.

perplexity told you to tilt your head down to examine the bag on whose handle was a shining ring attached with a paper, you made your way towards the elevator while wearing the ring in your ring finger for the presence of the diamond wasn't your source of confusion as the man had told you last night of his desire to give you the ultimate gift, his proof of his possession over you and with the way the lights of the elevator made the ring glimmer, the man clearly didn't care enough to take your refusal of being gifted such an expensive ring, into consideration.

the paper which you handled with perfect fragility made you wonder how he never felt worry and burden when handling and treating you for with every movement of your finger, your fear of ruining the paper only grew but when it finally opened to show you what was written in it, your worries and fears left and were instead replaced by the strong adoration which dangerously sat close to your rationality.

in the paper, were simple but firm words which left no room for confusion with the way they were so clear, the words read ; 'do not open the bag until an hour before i return tomorrow and if you do, it would be disappointing for me to know how my angel went against me. be good like you always were, for me and only for me always, angel.'

the elevator doors opened but you didn't step out, expectations of the man who is the expectation of god himself, rested its hand on your shoulders and flicked at your heart before it pushed you forwards slightly to make you step out and you did, blinking, you placed the paper inside the bag without looking down at what it contained.

your heart thumped, blood rushed through your veins and your hand fixed for any imperfections varying from any possible ruffles in your silk robe to any stray strand of hair that could've gone out of place during your entire journey to the entrance and back upstairs again.

you stopped, closed your eyes to be in peace for a short moment while you take a deep breath before opening your eyes again and unlocking the door using your card.

"the man of great promises has wowed the crowd again with his extreme ethics and mannerisms and with the results of today's conference, it is safe to assume that fyodor dostoyevsky and his party will be the one thriving on top in the upcoming elections next year, what do you think? --"

the voice of the television was lowered using the remote when the man heard the door open and he immediately looked at who entered not because he wanted to know who entered, he already did, but because his purple irises were dying to catch a glimpse of you.

"mr.dostoyevsky," your voice always sounded so soft and tempting whenever it pronounced his name, you were born to call his name, weren't you? you closed the door behind you as you approach him.

and there is he who killed his former self to be this being of perfection, killed his flaws to paint over them with the pride of being perceived as flawless instead and the man whose grace is in his smile and the pigment of his irises.

the sight of the man sitting with one leg crossed over the other, elbow propped on the armrest of the couch on which his cheek rested as he silently checked you out, always made you acknowledge your pussy clenching around nothing but tonight there is no room for mistakes and for imperfections for if its your last night serving the man, you want it to be perfect and leave an imprint on his heart so strong that no one else can recreate this scene and this night.

the stakes has never been higher, it's everything on the line tonight. it's the promise to yourself to show this man that no one can compare to you as well like how none can compare to him but he knew that, ever since your second night of serving him. he has known and lived with the fact since then.

"my angel." voice flowed like the waves of an ocean, peaceful yet powerful. and did it make you the fish swaying with the waves as you took the bottle of dom perignon and the white wine glass before approaching him? maybe it did but perhaps you are the leaf blowing with the wind which is fyodor. always so ready to flow in whichever direction he leads you to.

the man ruling your heart and thoughts wore a black turtle neck tucked in black pants and a white jacket over it which was falling on his elbows now, the purple lights falling onto his face gave him the crown to make the mortals of imperfections to fawn over his greatness. he raised his hand before bending his index finger to beckon you over, running a hand through his hair as he saw you slowly saunter towards him like a tiger walking towards the unsuspecting swan only for the swan to fly away.

fyodor sat straight before spreading his legs apart and you took your seat on the carpeted floor, between his legs as you opened the bottle and poured him his favorite drink into the glass before you raised yourself on your knees and gently brought the glass near his lips.

none made the effort to talk for this fleeting silence should be felt in every pore before the beginning of the night which both look forwards to.

a gulp containing your deepest desires was pushed down your throat when fyodor parted his lips and wrapped his hand around your's, tilting the glass to allow the liquid to flow into his mouth, does he not know how his simple action is affecting you?

he does or else he wouldn't had pushed the glass towards your lips, "drink, you like it, don't you?"

and who are you to refuse him who is staring down at you with a glint of gentleness you are so depraved of?

parting your lips with the intention of allowing him to pour the drink into your mouth was intrupted by the light shining and reflecting the diamond of the ring on his ring finger, the design not varying much if compared to your's and this intruption resulted in you raising your other hand to stop his hand from tilting the glass towards your mouth, your hand felt unfortunately like a succor in times like this, nights lights this where your heart became one with the gnawing defeatist in the back of your mind.

"excuse my sharp tongue but have you no shame, mr.dostoyevsky?" what began with a saccharine tone is the sentence whose meaning and purpose is mockery to soothe the wound in your own heart by craving shallow ones in his own.

"you are to be married tomorrow yet you gift me a ring? is the politics you are such a master of, being pulled in your real life as well? what do you attempt to prove by wearing a ring similar to this one?" you tilt your head in a silent jeering way but had he been the one to allow someone else to have the upper hand on him?

no, absolutely not. for fyodor dostoyevsky doesn't work that way. he doesn't work according to others but makes a plan so impeccable that nature bends itself to work according to him.

the hand of the black swan got a hold of your jaw which he tilted upwards before pouring the drink into your mouth and you wonder if politicians have mastered the act of pretense more then actors or why would his eyes hold adoration for a man of his caliber and especially for someone like you?

"what is shame after all angel? we are all born shameless, are we not?" the spokesperson of his party began but not in a tone of smartness and respect but in one which loosely hangs around the thin line of adoration in the form of a coo and amusement in the form of a playful smile.

"we develop shame, do we not?" you retort though your resolve isn't worthy of being called one for the way your irises followed fyodor's thumb which caressed your bottom lip.

"i am shameless then i suppose? but what's so wrong in being shameless for an angel like you? you, my cruel beauty, makes me feel as if i am drunk. one look at you and the world is blurry for me. i am the politician but you are my greed." words weren't words.

voice of a siren, the face of a swan but the determination of the devil. sumptuous and unreal, he is the greatest creation of god and the greatest envy to mankind. for fyodor is simply the miracle which can never occur again.

the words leaving his lips wrapped around your body and stopped you from looking away from him. the politician and his greed.

beauty is in the eye of the beholder till the beholder is the beauty.

the black swan is the black swan till you catch a glimpse of the tiny white spot on the back of his wings and then you start to wonder of who he was before being this man who wore perfection like his second skin and this curiosity makes fyodor weak in his knees.

to be desired is one thing. to be wanting to see him in his rawest form is another.

"stop flattering me mr.dostoyevsky. tell me what can i do to make your last night with me unforgettable." you smile up at him before you felt fyodor's hand slip down towards your throat before he gripped it, gently for he never treated the greed he chased after wrongly, before pulling you towards him as your hands fell on his thighs to offer some stabilization to yourself.

"last night? indeed i am one with politics for one lone reason. do you want to know what it is?" he asked, kissing the tip of his index finger before he placed it against your painted lips.

"yes mr.dostoyevsky." you breath out before parting your lips to take his finger in your mouth, swiring your tongue around its length and imagining it to be his dick. fyodor smirked, eyes narrowing in amusement.

"because no one knows what i know. they know and believe what i want them to, including you." fyodor shuts his eyes close as he groans lowly, the way your inner cheeks could be felt by every inch of his finger when you sucked on it made blood rush to his cock.

"uh huh. won't ya be a doll and tell me about it mr.dostoyevsky?" you blink, looking up at him through under your lashes and due to his finger in your mouth, your voice and words come out muffled and lord, oh lord, is this making fyodor go crazy.

"doll? am i your doll angel?" fyodor smiled down at you as he took his finger out to let you talk, lithe hands now working to untie the knot on your robe.

"i only had one doll in my life and even that was stolen by a bully. so to call you doll is to make it clear to myself that you, --" you stop to gulp as the robe is gently pulled off your shoulder and you remain in your violet lingere set.

"go on angel." fyodor whispered in mocking encouragement as if he didn't know the effect his fingers kneading into your shoulders is having on you.

" -- though you never actually belonged to me, would be taken away from me as well." you complete your words bitterly but it is soon forgotten when fyodor takes one of your hands to place it on top of his hardened cock.

"don't belong to you? angel no one could make me hard unless its you." he rasped out, closing his eyes as you caressed his clothed dick with your fingers while you looked up to drink in his reaction.

"don't marry tomorrow then mr.dostoyevsky, please? i would hate to see you returning as someone else's man and i would hate it even more to be assigned to someone else." you tell, eyes softening as you admit your feelings to him who looked down at you before grasping your jaw and caressing the curve.

"you trust me, don't you, angel?" he asked and for a moment, fyodor's eyes fell on the tv screen which showed his conference from today morning in which he is seen walking up the stage as his black suit made him look posh and handsome.

"what if i didn't mr.dostoyevsky?" you try not to smile by biting your inner cheek for the man above you has the ability to turn your anger towards him into vapor but you calling his name grabbed fyodor's attention as he looked down at you again and when he smiled, you were reminded why you felt so bitter the entire day, why you wanted to rush down to be the first one to greet him and why you jeered at him just now ; the gentle and seductive smile and those nonchalant eyes as if no one could touch him is what made you freeze the first time as you stared at him before realizing that the man you were serving for all these nights is the one you fell for.

"that's a pity but i still want you to have some faith in me, to trust me and sign a few papers. can my angel do that for me?"

'my angel' is a term which made you go weak in the knees, your heart fluttered as it poked fun at your brain and proudly exclaimed its victory and you melted, nodding.

for you weren't 'his angel' if you didn't have blind faith in him and his action and if you didn't think of him to be greater then the seven wonders of the world.

bitterness was taken over by love and admiration. jealousy was over thrown by lust and a need of praises.

"let me pleasure you, mr.dostoyevsky. you worked so hard today, looked so preety today." your hand traced his belt before you begin to unbuckle it and fyodor gave you all the freedom you required by spreading his legs as his arms went around the back of the couch he is seated on.

"i looked preety?" fyodor asked in amusement as he looked down at you with one eyebrow cocked, his stomach felt like it was in the middle of a hurricane of butterflies when you pulled his zipper down after allowing his cock free from the shackles of the belt.

"the prettiest and smartest." you smile, trying not to chuckle as you look up at him, you couldn't focus on anything else when fyodor leaned down towards you, head tilted.

"are you talking about yourself angel?" fyodor teased, to hide the pale pink flush on his cheeks by flicking your cheek with his finger and it was your turn to be hugged and have shyness to cling to you.

instinctly, you felt your body leaning the tiniest bit forwards to feel more of his touch on your skin.

"i was talking about you mr.dostoyevsky." you mumble, looking at him who playfully widened his eyes before his eyes looked down at your clevage and then back at your eyes.

eyes who saw too much desire of others towards him were now filled with it themselves as he let his eyes linger onto your lips and wonder how would it feel to kiss you. then as if your clevage asked for attention, a imaginary force tapped fyodor and reminded him about your breasts which he glanced down at and the next movement of his hand tapping at the strip of your bra had you gulping.

"take it off for me, angel?" fyodor's voice is low, soft yet it isn't nervous in the slightest. he knows what he is asking for and he knows what your answer will be.

"why should i?" you raise your eyebrows at the man who snickered before his supple fingers took the leadership by hooking itself under your bra strap and pulling it before letting it smack against your skin.

soft gasp gave rise to titillation to transform into utter and raw intoxication. the soft pout on your lip as you looked up at fyodor made him realise the growing frustration of his hardened dick.

"because i am asking so, angel, do you really even need another reason?" he breathed out, leaning down to twirl a strand of your hair on his finger as his eyes refused to look away from your face.

"mr.dostoyevsky." you nearly mewl, why is this one man and his stare playing with the chord of your heart and giving arousal freedom to imagine whatever it wants to?

black, black swan who is tainting the white swan, why do you feel satisfied and not grief?

does it not satisfy you to see the white swan at your feet every night that you try to reach feats no one else could? for no one could do what fyodor dostoyevsky can to sum it up in brief.

"hm?" fyodor hummed before he smiled upon watching you clumsily fumble with your bra to remove it but the hard and hungry stare of the man is proving the task to be more difficult then what it originally is.

"please tell me how i can pleasure you." you did not need to tell twice for once the words left the cage that is your mouth, they were free and rioting in the form of being chanted multiple times in the back of fyodor's mind.

"oh shit, how can i marry someone else when this is all your doing?" fyodor pulls his dick out, lifting his hips to remove his pants till they are left hanging on his knees and his words were only being understood now when your eyes were staring straight at the hardened and angry dick dripping with precum.

"you say this but aren't you marrying someone else tomorrow?" you bite your lip in sudden pleasure when fyodor leaned forwards to pinch your nipple between his cold index finger and thumb.

"i am marrying tomorrow, yes." only giving a glimpse of itself, the black swan teases the nature and fyodor teases you with his vague answers -- they aren't vague to the normal ear but you who saw the reminants of the white swan within him loves to observe him the same way a marine biologist studies the biology within. it may kill you but lord, do you care when the addiction of figuring something in him out is the greatest satisfaction of them all.

"i've served married men before but you were someone i wished would always remain a bachelor, i am being unprofessional --"

"absolutely not." fyodor intrupted you as he tilted your head up to stare at him with his index finger on your chin before he told the declaration of lust within you and within him to begin taking over, "i love you showing possession over me. go on angel, let everyone passing by know who it is that can get me so worked up."

slender fingers traced the outline of your underboob, "gotta show everyone why you are my favorite, no? you are the only woman who ever touched me and you dare get upset with me?"

he playfully scoffed before fondling with your boob while your hands slithered up like wines to grab his cock which you pumped a few times -- all the while his eyes stayed on you and your's on him.

"mr.dostoyevsky, flattering will get you no where." you smiled, teasing the man who always left you a breathless mess and your toes curled when fyodor leaned down to lick below your lip before he planted a soft kiss. he always did it, kissing dangerously close to your lips but never your lips for the man did not want to have intercourse before marriage and this is what got you especially riled up. you were the one covered in his cum, tasted his cum, the first woman who gave him a blowjob and what not but you won't be the first woman to kiss him. ironic.

"and actions will?" fyodor smirked before tapping your other, neglected boob and you took the cue, your hand abandoned his cock to hold your boobs and push them to give him the invitation.

fyodor placed his dick between the valley of your boobs which would soon be experiencing the ending of the drought.

"actions will." you confirm though if compared to him, your voice is breathless and as you push your boobs together to trap his dick between your flesh, he too, felt the same hand of desire pulling the breath out of his throat harshly.

you began to move up and down as your hands made sure to hold your boobs close in a way that squeezes his dick between them and try to imitate the way it would probably feel to have your walls clamping around him and the pleasure builded up slowly. fyodor groaned and ran a hand through his hair before he gripped the roots and tilted his head back.

a shaky hissed left his lip when you brought your face down to kiss his sensitive tip before you licked it.

fyodor's eyes remained screwed shut as he brought his hand forwards to wrap it around the base of his cock and pump it to stimulate even more pleasure.

your eyes widened and lips parted, staring up in admiration and adoration at the man whose hair fell and sticked to his forehead, eyes may have remained closed but the parted lips of his which gave way to the hisses and grunts of pleasure was the main attraction anyway.

you then looked down to see the tip of his dick disappear between where your boobs met before appearing again and the cycle repeated, the sight of eroticism making you clench your own thighs and move up and down slightly to feel the fabric of your panties press up against your aching cunt.

fyodor opened his eyes, his pace increased and with the other hand, he traced shapes on your collarbone before grabbing your shoulder in a strong grip as he gasped softly, ropes of cum shooting out and painting the canvas of your skin, the cum trailed down your boob before nestling against your nipple.

black swan, oh, black swan, falling victim to your desires?

he is.

how does it feel to be caressed by the very same emotions you once tried to kill within you, oh, black swan, the lover.

fyodor's fingers wrapped around your wrist before he pulled you up into his lap, mouth immediately attacking your nipple as he sucked on it, nibbled and only got more encouraged when you whined out, your hand couldn't stop itself from following the demand of your heart which told it clearly to grab his hair in a gentle grip, the action had fyodor humming in approval.

the other hand played with the cum dripping down your chest before you swiped some of it with your finger to put it in your mouth and suck it, looking at fyodor with faux innocence and the sight of the man gulping made you lick your lips.

white swan, oh, white swan, seducing the black swan is your job not your life purpose yet why do you work so hard as if it's your only purpose?

black swan, be flawless and love her and let the white swan be possessive over you.

and white swan, be the one to look past this fake flawless-ness and watch the otherworldly being submit to his humanity.

fyodor's teeth sinked down on your flesh not hard enough to cause a serious or painful injury but just hard enough to imprint his teeth mark on your boob, which he licked afterwards in a cheap apology to soothe the pain. but nothing about the man himself is cheap so even if his attempt is considered as cheap, the emotions it sturred inside you were rich in every way.

fyodor then leaned back, his fingers spread the cum on your chest before he scooped some up on the tip of his index finger and brought it up to your lips which you parted to let him push his finger into it, resting it just above your wet appendage and pressing down a bit as his eyes got serious to lead to the beginning of the momentous event.

"before anything else, let me tell you what to expect tomorrow. it'll surely be a eventful day, no?" fyodor's amused smile was met with your eyes being blinked once due to the obstruction in the form of his slender finger inside your mouth but before he continued further, it is absolutely important to know why he sticked his finger into your mouth.

the black swan spreads it's wing to charm the white swan, to enthrall it before it brought its magnificent show to an end. the reason for this boastful action was to gather the utmost attention of preety white swan.

"you won't need to do much, angel. just make a decision tomorrow. there will be two documents and it's all on you to either sign it or not." and he finally pulled his finger out when your eyes pleaded him to let you speak.

"will you come tomorrow, mr.dostoyevsky?" your voice came out raspy, breathless and it cracked, not due to sadness but due to the numbing effect his fingers pressing down on your tongue had on you.

"do you want me to?" he pushed himself to be a bit near you while he removed his jacket and placed it over your shoulder, expertly avoiding having the cloth collide with his cum still dripping down your collarbones and chest.

"i do." you confirm to let the man raise his eyebrows cockily but the sight doesn't annoy nor humiliate you but makes your heart swell in adoration, your eyes falling on your bare shoulders which were now covered with his jacket.

and what pain is plucking it's own feathers when the white swan looks so good with your feathers around its head like a crown, oh black swan? the satisfaction is greater then the pain for you, no?

"wear this. my heart is your's anyways so why not take my jacket as well?"

you snorted, rolling your eyes.

"mr.dostoyevsky, i think you should stick to politics." you joked but the white swan was the earlier stages of the black swan, what white swan does, black swan already did.

"and i think you should stick by my side. don't you, as well? i hope you make a choice you won't regret tomorrow angel." cruel.

oh cruel man, why do you speak so seriously yet kiss your angel's jaw at the same time as if you don't want her to focus on your words but just on the feather like feeling of your lips on her skin for the slightest second.

cruel, cruel man yet oh so ethereal too.

"once again, i'll remind you that two documents will be offered to you and it's your choice to either sign them or tear them. your actions tomorrow will change things greatly, angel." the cruelty continued of the temptation packed into the body of the russian man and his each touch ignited a sense of euphoria on your skin and his words were left with half given attention.

till the event he had foreseen since long ago came to life.

you wrapped fyodor's jacket tighter on your body, smiling to yourself as it still smelled like him. his rich cologne still lingered on the jacket and hugged you to provide you with a sense of stability in the otherwise unusually quite club an hour before its usual opening time. the bag he gifted you yesterday contained a white lacy lingerie set though the curiosity remains to haunt your thoughts with the question -- is this a farewell gift or can you really expect to see him tonight as well?

to see the bustling and lively place look so quiet as staff quickly worked to clean it and organize everything for another night of unconfined emotions is a sight you got used to but still felt weirded out with as your undivided attention went to every inch of the place and noticed every inch which would usually be crowded.

though the way someone bumped into you to make you stumble a few steps forwards was quick to make you scowl and forget about the club and its loneliness just one hour before its opening, you turned to look at her. the hunter and the bully.

the manager and the most sought-after stripper of the club.

"we found you at last!" she rolled her eyes in a exaggerated fashion and you did the same to let her know the annoyance is mutual.

"girls." the clearing of the throat of the manager made both of you to immediately snap your heads towards him who nodded once in what seemed like satisfaction at the obedience and discipline shown.

"mr. fyodor dostoyevsky just submitted his last cheque to our club. a last donation cheque. you know what it means, don't you?" he didn't ask to anyone in particular but the girl beside him widened her eyes in mild surprise.

"he won't be coming back? did he find a new club or?" she asked the manager but you took his chance to reply, answering,

"he must've gotten married by now. he is a married man. he won't mingle with the likes of us anymore." you clutch the hem of his jacket as you raise your eyes to look at your manager, "who will i be assigned to next?"

taken aback by your rapid ability to move on and past the man you've you've serving for the past six months or so, the manager took a moment to gather himself before he nodded but before he could let a word out, the attention was grabbed by fyodor's secretary who walked with two guard behind.

you watched for the next five minutes with utter confusion at the manager and secretary exchanging greetings and words before the manager nodded and stepped aside to let the messenger of the man you love to walk towards you, he greeted you and you reciprocated before he dropped the pin in the lake.

"sir told me to directly give these papers to you." the secretary bowed before offering you a file and a pen he came with and took a step back.

his words made sense now. but they didn't.

you understood the overall situation but it was only the outer layer and the inner layer is yet to be discovered but how? when you don't know which decision will enable you to do so.

and what did you do in times of dilemma?

you did what you were told to many times, to put your trust in the black swan and watch him pull the strings without moving much other then a single finger of his hand.

you anxiously pulled on the sleeve of the white jacket before approaching the nearest hard surface which happened to be the bar counter before you opened the file and signed the first document on the signature space, doing the same with the other document.

this is a trial. a test. to not give in to your selfish or well instinctive desires to read or atleaat skim over the writings of the document is to prove your utmost faith in fyodor whose reward remained a mystery but the end results didn't matter while in the journey with fyodor.

"here." you softly utter and turn back to hand over the file to the secretary but to your surprise, your heart beats as you see fyodor approaching you with rushed steps, one hand loosening the tie around his neck.

but according to the news channels, he was supposed to be getting married at this hour, did he walk off from his wedding?

it's selfish. but the thought made your heart flutter and you couldn't help or overcome the nervousness that took over you.

". . . i trust you, i signed it mr.dostoyevsky." you inform and watch the man nod breathlessly and you wonder what's gotten into him with enough strength to take his breath away?

desire. utter raw desire.

"good, i declare you my wife from here on angel."

you saw the manager and fyodor's secretary widen their eyes before your eyes were forced to close when fyodor caught your wrist which holded the files and quickly pulled you towards him to slam his lips against your's, the papers flew out of your hands but fyodor didn't care.

the hunter watched the swans dance and looked at its partner who had dropped the pin in the lake, to see the latter capturing pictures without looking taken aback.

the manager watched with surprise as the bodyguards and secretary ushered people out of the entire floor.

while fyodor grabbed your waist to lift and place you on top of the counter, lips moving against your's before you parted your lips to whine but the opportunist took the opportunity to push his tongue into your mouth.

the girl walked forwards to grab the fallen down papers and she stood straight while keeping her eyes on said papers.

one was a marriage certificate and another was your official resignation letter from the club with the addition of the threat of fyodor's name attached next to your's. and anyone and everyone who worked close enough to the upper class society knows how foolish it is to claim their authority over someone or something whose name has the name of a strong influence next to it.

the girl, the bully, who was she infront of the power named fyodor dostoyevsky?

no one and it was made clear by the way she didn't protest when said man's guards ushered her away as well to let fyodor have the entire floor to himself. he rented it out after all.

"mr.dostoyevsky." you gasp when fyodor separated from you, his half lidded eyes was drawn to the string of saliva connecting your lips to his and he was overtaken by desire again which made him attack your lips ; a lick to your upper lip before he began to nibble on your bottom lip for a while till you pulled him closer by grabbing his black suit coat, fyodor pushed his tongue inside your mouth again and if french kissing is considered sexy then fyodor is certainly doing justice to the claim.

at the same time, his hand went down to unzip the jacket before he pushed it back a bit to flick his finger against your stomach.

fyodor separated from the comfort of your lips to lean towards your ear and whisper, "good choice angel but i thought you didn't trust me? yet here you are, signing the papers without even missing a beat, oh angel --" fyodor sighed out fondly yet his tone remained cocky and amused, " -- always such a good girl for me."

". . .you are crazy, mr.dostoyevsky. absolutely unbelievable." laughing in relief is a short term gesture before fyodor had picked you again and you wrapped your legs around his waist at the sudden action, with widened eyes you watched as he led you towards one of the couches and laid you down.

"told you i would be getting married today but perhaps i forgot to tell you that you were the bride. oh, how can i forget so?" he smiled down, his hand pulling his zip down.

. . . and you are the first woman to kiss him as well. the realization made you smile as you close your eyes.

"not a chance angel, open your eyes and watch your husband satisfy you."

━━━━━━━ 💋 end.

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