If You Don't (Fyodor X OC)

EXTRA (NSFW)

(AN: I have not edited this. I just wanted to give yall a treat)

Fyodor was lost in conversation with Nikolai. The restaurant they chose for dinner was extravagant, and I felt out of place. Not to mention, the Russian made it a point to torture me before we even left.

~*~*~*~*

"Fyodor, we're going to be late" I whined, waiting for him to get out of the shower as I stood outside the door. The water wasn't running, so I knew he was likely getting dressed.

"Then let us be late. I have something I must do before we depart," he said smoothly, greeting me with a slight smirk as he opened the door.

He was wearing just a towel, and I couldn't stop my eyes from wandering. His v-line was taunting me to investigate what resided underneath that towel. The whole 7 or so inches of ecstasy that my core suddenly ached for.

"And what is it that you.. need to do?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. It was hard to keep my composure when all I could think about was his manhood.

Without a verbal response, Fyodor cupped my cheeks with his hands. He planted his lips against mine, passionately but aggressively. I inhaled sharply, instinctively coiling my fingers around his wrists.

He took one step forward, and i stepped back. This repeated until my back was against the wall. His lips trailed down my jaw, and to the base of my neck.

"Fyodor," I breathed out. He didn't get needy like this often, but when he did, oh.. fuck.

"I love the way you say my name in such a desperate manner," he purred, his voice primal. It begged me to melt and I could feel my core twist.

His tongue lapped at my pulse, and his fingers made their way to the button of my jeans. My chest was rising and falling with heavy breaths. All I could hear was the sound of my zipper being undone, and the pounding of my own heart.

With one slick movement, his hand slid down across my bare skin. His index finger grazed my opening, and all I could do was whimper. I was always so weak when it came to him.

"So wet for me," he mused against my neck. I groaned with delight.

His finger slipped between my folds, teasingly dragging from my clit down to my opening. He inserted his finger slowly, before dragging it back out and up to my clit again.

He was taunting me.

"Fyodor, please," I begged, needing more. My fingers tangled in his hair, and I rocked my hips against his hand. I needed him.

"Please what, Milaya?" He countered, circling my clit with light pressure. His other hand was propped against the wall next to my head.

"Please... more," I responded. To be quite frank, I didn't know exactly what I needed. I just knew that his current movements were driving me mad.

He dipped his finger back in, curling it against the sensitive part inside. Once a moan tumbled from my lips, he inserted another digit.

The pleasure ramped up continuously, only increasing as he continued to curl his fingers, using his palm to rub my clit at the same time. I could feel my core tightening, and I gripped his hair tighter.

He grunted when I yanked on his raven locks, eliciting a nip against my neck from him. Much to my dismay, he retracted his fingers.

"We have dinner to attend," he stated calmly, though a smirk was plastered on his lips.