Chapter Text
Anna Viktorovna brought her suitcase, the hat box, and the small duffle bag out of her bedroom and set them beside the door. The olive green leather was still glossy, this being the second time she had used the gift from her parents; one they bestowed upon her when she decided to move to the capital six months ago. Anna was bringing gifts for them this time - the French perfume that Mama liked, a bottle of port for Papa. She was excited and anxious. There was a small voice in the back of her head taunting her with the idea that despite what her father said a few weeks ago, her parents could still reject Yakov.
Yakov… she was still deliriously happy. Was it possible to be this content for the remainder of their lives? Just thinking of her beloved obliterated all her concerns surrounding their upcoming trip. They had not seen each other, for what was it? Ten days now, she remembered. But she and Yakov had kept Fedor, the schoolboy who delivered messages between the precinct and Anna’s apartment, busy with their correspondence. Anna giggled, revisiting some of the delightful notes.
She was still smiling when a sharp rap on the door alerted her to Yakov’s arrival. Anna turned the handle and accosted Yakov Platonovich … before greetings and just on the edge of the mind’s ability to recognize a person. He smiled as she kissed and embraced him. She soaked in his physical presence - his scent, his warmth, and substance. She’d almost forgotten how it could seduce her.
They were taking the night train from St. Petersburg to Zatonsk - sleeping cars again, like those they’d enjoyed on Anna’s first excursion to the big city. After settling into their compartments, Anna and Yakov proceeded to the dining car. Although it was late, the sun had not yet set. The greens and yellows of the passing landscape - trees, grasslands, waterways - whizzed by as they ate and conversed.
It was late now, well past the time to be sleeping. Anna lay awake, contemplating. She had tried to rest, to close her eyes and fall into a gentle, comfortable slumber. Her desires, and the thoughts they stirred within her, prevented any quietude. She and Yakov had not shared a bed since that afternoon, seemingly so long ago, after she and Yakov had skated on the ice in Galernaya Park. First, it was Yakov’s injury, and, to be honest, the presence of Inessa and Rumikova, and then it was the abundance of everyday intrusions - work had piled up for both of them during Yakov’s recovery, as did seemingly insubstantial social obligations. An opportunity had not presented itself, until tonight.
Anna rose, adorning her camel-colored robe over her chemise. She opened her door slowly, peering out. The corridor was clear. She knocked on Yakov’s door forcefully; she had every intention of waking him. He answered it quickly, and she knew that he had not been sleeping. He smiled in a knowing and pleasantly anticipatory way. He was still in his trousers, his suspenders off his shoulders and hanging loosely, his open-necked, casual, cotton shirt untucked.
Anna could restrain herself no longer. Before Yakov Platonovich could secure the door, she had wrapped him in her arms and nuzzled against his neck. He felt so wonderful; she closed her eyes and focused on all the places his body met hers. He laughed at her enthusiasm. She looked up at him and smiled, her eyes moving to his lips. He bent toward her, pressing his mouth to hers, gently and seductively, slowly making his way along her jawline and neck. She caressed the back of his neck as he moved his hands around her waist, pressing her closer to him.
Yakov moved slowly, far slower than on previous occasions. They had time. No one would disturb them for hours, no crime needed solving. He wanted to take in every inch of this woman he loved. Yakov wove his fingers through her soft curls, following them down to her shoulder. As he held Anna’s eyes, his hands moved to the tie on her robe. She was captivated by his intense stare and the caresses he offered.
Her outer garment now on the floor, Yakov kissed her fiercely and long. Running his fingers softly, lazily along Anna’s ribcage, then her hips, now her thighs, he finally arrived at the hem of her cotton shift. He returned the same way, brushing his hands enticingly over her calves, her thighs. When he came to her hips, Anna sucked her breath in sharply. Yakov looked up into her eyes then; her cheeks were pink and her lips slightly parted.
“Yakov,” she breathed. She was losing control; this desire that Yakov was creating in her - it overwhelmed her senses. She could hardly breathe. She had stopped thinking altogether. He maneuvered the undergarment over her head and in the same movement lifted her. Yakov carried her the few feet to the bed and placed her down gently. She clung to him, pulling him on top of her. He laughed again.
“Yakov,” she whispered hoarsely. “I feel like a mad woman...I want you so desperately.”
He only smiled, clearly pleased with himself, but not moving any faster than before. There were still so many places he had not yet touched. He removed his own garments, however, that they might share in the exploration. Anna found she could rein in her passions momentarily while she ran her fingertips along Yakov’s shoulders and chest. When she reached his hips, she gripped them tightly and brought her lips up to softly kiss him behind his ear, slowly her lips grazed his skin along the ridge of his jaw. She heard Yakov moan.
And the night wore on, Anna and Yakov lost in discovering each other until they were spent and sleep came easily.