Revved Revy

A Walk

I wasn't sure whether I was in Heaven or Hell.

Thighs were cramping my face, making it hard to breathe. The harsh rub of linen rubbing against my cheeks didn't help either. Shifting, my nose touched the metal of a zipper. A part of me wanted to see if I could drag it down with teeth, to prove to myself that Balalaika was wearing lace.

Right as teeth settled on metal, a hand hit my ass in warning. I muffled a low moan, letting myself burrow deeper. The same hand grabbed my ass again, clawing until I let go of the zipper.

Balalaika pushed my head further into her crotch. Unfortunately, I recognized the message and arched my back, setting myself higher.

The elbow on top of my head tensed. A shot rang out, and all I could do was sarcastically pat the Kapitan for accomplishing another kill.

Balalaika responded with Russian, "хороший котенок." Warmth flooded me as I recognized the familiar words, muttering out a no problem.

I rolled over once she lifted the sniper. The snow above was a pain in the ass, and I frowned at how the snowflakes pierced my vision.

Blonde hair dangled on the sides of my face as a large body loomed over me. Lips pressed against my own. A heartbeat sped up as my hands found golden tendrils to pull Balalaika down more.

My mouth opened as I felt a hand cup my breast, squeezing. Taking the chance, the Russian let her tongue explore.

Letting out a moan, I pulled away. A chase occurred when I leaned up to catch lips again, only to be stopped by a thumb that entered my mouth. Maybe it was an erotic sight from the Russian's point of view, heat as teeth dug down.

Once the thumb pulled away, I sat up, wiping away a dribble of spit. Balalaika leaned her face on a hand, her eyes full of mirth over the upcoming tantrum that I would make.

I saw it, for once being smart enough to not act like a bratty kid. Tiredness weighed down on me, bringing down my shoulders.

My fingers found a cigarette, clinging onto it as I brought it up. Stepping closer, Balalaika brought out her lighter, guiding it to me. The flame brushed but otherwise did nothing. The cigarette wasn't lit.

I chose to use my own, cupping a hand around it, leaning my head low. Blonde hair flowed with the wind. I looked at the blonde and saw an expression of confusion.

Pain riddled my mind over how the cigarette cradled in my mouth felt too recent and close to a vicious thumb. There was a sigh as my fingers threw the cigarette; I watched it fall off the roof.

Nearby was a door, and I went to it. Balalaika stood in front of it, her face hard. My eyes narrowed. I hope I'm not a simple bitch of a human in her eyes.

Actions speak louder than words. What happened right now told me enough; being put in a humiliating position for the blonde's pleasure, then humiliated again by being forced to keep a thumb in my mouth.

It was disgusting, being treated like a wind-up whore. And Balalaika knew how to wind me up and get what she wanted.

We both stood in front of each other, silent, waiting for the other to make a move. "I see you've acquired yourself some new clothing."

I shifted from left to right. "Do you like it?"

Balaliaka's gaze ran over me in a messy line, going from one spot to the next. "It...suits you."

I rolled my eyes. "Sheesh, thanks, sis." A large hand caught on my back, leading me to the door. We entered, and I was put up against a wall.

"I said it suits you; it makes you look more punk, so to speak, " she said. I came closer to her, face burrowing into a chest. The turtleneck was nice, fitting Balalaika in all the right places.