This one was requested (a longer time ago than I’d like to admit) by the lovely @we-stan-julian-devorak -- here it is, darling, I hope you enjoy it!
Rating: Explicit/Lemon
Pairing: Whyatte/Julian
Summary: Whyatte wears a modest outfit to torture Julian (don’t worry--he gets his reward later)
Whyatte was wearing what was undoubtedly the most modest thing she’d ever worn. Her high-collared jacket clung to her neck all the way to her jaw and was buttoned down to her hips. Her sleeves ended at her wrists, but long gloves concealed what those didn’t. Her pants were tight and tucked into a pair of knee-high boots. The only skin visible was that of her face and even that was partially hidden by a large, wide-brimmed hat.
Julian trailed behind her carrying a basket full of fruit, meat, and other ingredients for the dinner he was making. “Aren’t you a bit hot, darling,” he asked with a teasing lilt, catching up and linking his fingers through hers. “Wouldn’t you be more comfortable if you took that coat off?”
A smile momentarily touched her lips as she turned to him, “Oh no I can’t do that.” She reached up and put a gloved hand on his cheek. “We can’t have me ruining dessert.”
His usual grin melted away and left only a deep, crimson blush on his cheeks. He had to consciously conceal his, now very visible, excitement as he gripped the basket tighter.
With a giggle Whyatte resumed her walk, making her way back to the shop.
She had tormented him all the way through dinner, removing her hat but leaving the rest of her ensemble tightly fastened. Normally this wouldn’t have been an issue, but she had brought it to his attention and now all he could think about was seeing what was underneath and it was driving him crazy.
She loved seeing him like this. He barely managed to finish cooking before trying to tackle her, but she pushed him away. “Oh no, we have to eat first.” She wagged her finger at him and winked, then snuck around him to set the table and leaving him with his jaw agape.
Once the food was on the table, he ate faster than she had ever seen. “Ilya, don’t you want to enjoy your meal?” she slowly took another bite.
“I don’t know if I can,” his foot made contact with her leg and slid up suggestively.
Shaking her head, she kicked it away. “Now, now. You have to wait until I’m finished, don’t you?”
Now he was frustrated. He withdrew and crossed his arms, watching her agonizingly slow pace from across the table.
Her eyes were on him, but she put her fork down and unbuttoned the top few buttons on her coat. It was just enough for the black lace she had on underneath to peek out at him.
She raised an eyebrow at him, daring him to move from his chair. He knew better, instead just biting down hard on his fist as he waited less-than-patiently.
Delighted, she tested him again, this time allowing one shoulder of the coat to slide off and reveal more of the lingerie. He stared hungrily at her, biting his lip to conceal the string of pleas he didn’t want her to hear. Not yet.
With every bite she took, Julian looked more and more desperate. He stared at her, eyes half-lidded, from across the table, the heel of his hand pressing between his legs.
He was trying his best to be good. Even so, every so often when Whyatte would take a bite particularly slowly, allowing her tongue to graze the morsel, a pathetic whimper would sound from her partner.
When she had finally taken her last bite, she took her time gathering the dishes and taking them to the kitchen. Julian was hot on her heels as if she’d tied an invisible string around him. As she set the plates on the counter, his arms wound around her waist to find the buttons on her coat and undid a few of them. His lips found her neck and he trailed kisses down to her collarbone. His teeth found the collar of the lacy lingerie and pulled at it, frustrated that it was in the way.
“Mmmm,” he purred into her skin, “Why are you still wearing anything at all?”
She slid out from under his grasp and kept him at arm's length. “Ilya, what did I say about enjoying your meal?”
He stared her up and down, hunger evident in his eyes. “Whyatte, love—” he begged, breaking her grip to find his way to her lips and murmuring between kisses, “What I would enjoy more than anything is to rip this thing off and have my way with you.” He could feel his lover’s raised brow before he even opened his eyes. “But…” he continued, “I imagine this is too lovely a garment for me to treat it so harshly.”
“Then pray tell, dearest—” he pulled back and licked his lips suggestively. “What exactly is your plan?”
Without a word, she turned from him and lead him to their room where she snapped her fingers, causing several crystals around the bed to glow dimly with a warm light. Julian followed her in, awaiting her instructions. Now that they had finally made it this far, he wasn’t going to ruin it being over-eager. “Lie down.” She ordered, adjusting the glowing crystals so there was only the faintest whisper of light. Just enough for him to see her unbuttoning the remainder of the coat and letting it fall to the floor.
He was glad that he was already laying down. Had he not been, the moment he saw her in an outfit that could only be described as positively sinful he would have fallen down flat. She walked over to him, placing a devastatingly high heel on his chest and pressed him into the soft duvet. From there he had a clear view of her attire: A black lace halter adorned her neck, reaching all the way up to her chin and down to her chest where a well-placed opening allowed for just enough of her cleavage to peek out.
A fishnet material continued down her stomach, zig-zagging over her abdominals and stopping just shy of her groin, where the darker floral lace took its place. The legs again offered a divine vision of her upper thighs until they connected to the beautiful sheer hose that clung all the way to her ankles.
“Ilya?” a voice pulled him out of his appreciation. He looked up to see Whyatte unzipping the collar of her ensemble and lifting her foot off his chest. “Strip.”
He couldn’t have moved fast enough. He struggled to rid himself of his shirt and trousers while she watched, a faint grin hinting at her lips. How she loved him like this. Desperate for her. Obedient. So consumed by lust for her that he would do anything.
He scrambled back to the bed and sat on his knees in front of her. He pressed his face to her stomach and inhaled, nipping at the fabric still separating him from the thing he most wanted.
Her hands wound through his hair and pulled his head back. She swung her leg around his shoulder, hooking it and using it as leverage to pull him closer.
She didn’t have to tell him what to do. He lunged forward, grabbing the back of her thigh with one hand and cupping her ass in the other. He was delighted to find that, though his lover’s choice of wardrobe was most certainly chosen to torture him, it was crotchless. His lips immediately connected with her sex, lapping, sucking, relishing the pleasure he knew he was giving her.
Her grip on his hair tightened and her legs tensed as he feasted, putting her a little off balance. She faltered and he caught her effortlessly, swinging her around him and under him on the bed. It was barely a second before he found his way back to her, sliding down and letting his tongue enter her while his teeth gently grazed her clit. She was out of breath and lost for words sooner than she expected, but she managed to stop him.
“What is it, my love?” he asked. “Is everything all right?”
“Are you touching yourself?” she asked.
Astounded, he shook his head. Usually, she forbade that sort of thing in favor of doing it herself later. “Should I be?”
She nodded desperately. “But you can’t cum until I s—” she clarified just before he resumed his ministrations, causing the sentence to break off in a less-than-characteristic moan.
He nodded and moaned as his hand connected with himself, stopping for just a split second to adjust. Even that moment was too long and Whyatte grabbed his hair to thrust him back into place before looking down at him. His eyes were rolling back as he devoured her, and the sounds he was making were sending delightful vibrations right through her. Her head fell back on the bed, her hands grasping the sheets and gasped his name. He hit a particularly pleasurable spot and before she knew it her nails were digging ruts into his shoulder, which elicited another delectable moan.
As she neared her climax she found herself huffing out his name over and over, wrapping her legs around his shoulders and grinding into his mouth. To her surprise, he stopped, barely breathing out “Darling, please…” between his own huffing. His grip on her thigh tightened. “Please, I need you.”
She looked down at him, ready to ask him who told him he could stop, but the look on his face was too much. His eyes were glistening and his lips were plump. Though she’d never admit it to him in the moment, he was so sexy that she could have finished just by looking at him. She reluctantly used her heel to push him off of her and onto his back. “Ilya,” she said as she crawled over to him and positioned herself in his lap.
She leaned over him, allowing her teeth to graze down his earlobe to his neck, leaving small bite marks as she went. With every nibble she felt him twitch, his hands clutching desperately at her hips. She grabbed them and pulled them up above his head, holding his wrists in one hand as her other hand made it down to his groin.
She gave it one stroke teasingly before her hand moved to herself, rubbing circles and allowing a small whimper to carry itself to Julian’s ear. His eyes went wide and he watched as she pleasured herself on top of him. She sat up to give him a full view, eyes lidded with a silent command to be still and whispering “If you won’t finish the job I suppose I’ll have to.”
He watched in agony as she sat in his lap, giving little thrusts into her hand and whining, letting her head fall back. Under her, he twitched with anticipation. He didn’t move (he knew he’d be punished if he did) but small desperate noises escaped his lips. Even just watching her like this, touching herself for him, made him ravenous. He bit his lip, controlling the urge to shift just a little and take her right there.
“Whyatte, love…” he choked out behind gasps, “Please…”
A sultry giggle later and she had abandoned her ministrations, leaning over him once more and taking the skin of his neck in her teeth. “Do you want me, darling?” she asked before lapping at the now-raised skin.
Her only response was the hungry groan that tumbled from his lips before his hands flew up to claw at her back and the lace that separated the two of them. His knees came up off the bed and he curled into her, begging. “Yes,” he growled, catching some of the lace in his fingers and teeth and pulling at it.
“Then by all means,” she sat up again and unbuttoned the bodice, letting it fall off her shoulders. She whispered so quietly he almost didn’t hear her but there was no mistaking the order she gave him: “Take me”.
In a split second, he sat up and pushed her down to the bed so that he was laying over her. Her legs wrapped around him and he wasted no time pulling her hips up to meet him. He had no trouble slipping inside her and as he did they both gasped. He felt so good she could barely breathe, which is when she remembered that she hadn’t just been working him up all day. The relief was instant and she lay dazed for a moment before she realized he was moving.
His thrusts were hectic and uneven and punctuated by soft moans; his lips moved from her jaw to her neck to her collarbone, leaving little marks as they went.
“Gods, love—” he shuddered as her legs wound tighter around him and pulled him closer. “You f-feel so go—aah!”
Her arms wrapped around his neck and nails dug into his back, sending sparks of pain and pleasure through his bloodstream.
“Darling, I d-don’t know how long—” he couldn’t finish his sentence. His mouth fell open and Whyatte grabbed either side of his face, pulling him into a ravenous kiss.
“Not until I say,” she reminded him, a deep-throated moan preventing her from giving any further orders.
Hot, feral instincts took over both of them and she knew there wouldn’t be much more conversation, which suited her just fine. It allowed her to pay more attention to the erratic and delicious way he was filling her. Over and over she was left empty only to feel red-hot pleasure as he entered her again. She could feel him holding as tightly to her as he could in an effort to keep his mounting orgasm at bay.
She wasn’t as close as he was, she was sure so she forcefully pushed him over and rolled him onto his back before he had any time to protest. Positioning herself over him once again she slowly lowered herself onto his length as his arm flew over his face to hide his squinting eyes and gaping, gasping mouth. He attempted to continue but she stopped him. “Don’t move.” She ordered.
He obeyed, arm still covering his face. She wound her hips in slow, methodical circles, hitting every spot she needed to while torturing her lover. Taking either side of his face in her hands she dove into his shoulder and bit so hard she thought she had drawn blood. She tried to pull back but Julian’s other hand pressed onto the back of her head, keeping her right where she was.
Her mouth sealed over the bite mark and sucked, pulling up a bruise so harsh it was sure to last days. “F-fuck yes, love don—ah—don’t stop!” He was trying his best to stay still but his hips still gave little jerks upward.
“Are you close, love?” she whispered in his ear.
He nodded desperately and buried his face in her neck, moaning into it.
She sat up and pressed his chest into the mattress “Then, please, darling,” she coaxed, raising an eyebrow. “Cum.”
His breath hitched and it only took a few of her slow thrusts before he was coming undone.
She leaned down again and kissed his ear, still moving, “Well done—now it’s my turn.” Grabbing his hair, she pushed their foreheads together and continued to grind over him, feeling him twitching inside her.
He tensed underneath her, toes curing, face scrunching, mouth hanging open emitting sounds of both pleasure and pain. She always loved this expression, when his over-stimulation clashed with his continuing pleasure that he lost all sense of himself and he was at her mercy.
He clutched desperately at her and pushed into her again and again, dismissing every signal in his body telling him to stop.
Her pull on his hair grew tighter and he knew she was close. He pulled her waist in closer and rolled on top of her. “O-oh my god Ilya, yes!” she cried and a few thrusts later stars exploded into her vision and she was left moaning and twitching underneath him as she rode out her orgasm.
As he pulled out and rolled to her side, she rolled to meet him, pulling his face into her chest. He nuzzled into it, still breathing heavily as he trailed soft kisses in between her breasts before settling onto her and letting out a deep, gratified sigh.
“I think that was the best dessert I’ve ever had,” he laughed and lifted his head just to wink at her before nestling back in.
His head rose and fell with her laugh as she said, “Maybe I’ll have to make it for you more often.”
Her fingers ran softly through his hair, combing it out as they both drifted off to deep sleep.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/18563365
