Chapter Text
Andrei felt the gravitational pull in his chest, and he sat up from his lounge chair, lowering his sunglasses to get a better look.
Immediately, he spots you across the sand, returning from inside and laying on your beach towel. He watches as you prop up on one hand, resting it behind you, the other one acting as a makeshift shade so you could see the girls as you conversed with them.
Your legs were stretched out in front of you, oiled up from the sunscreen you’d applied, and crossed at the ankles. One of your ankles spotted a gold anklet that glittered in the sun, where he knew a small and unassuming “A” charmed along the chain.
A smirk crosses his lips almost out of habit.
He pushes his sunglasses back up to cover his eyes and watches you for a moment, his skin buzzing when you smile and laugh at something that was said.
It’s not fucking fair, how hot you are.
No really, it wasn’t.
Since the day you came into his life earlier this year, he’d felt tethered to you, consistently blinded by your beauty and simultaneously blessed that you’d given him the chance to earn your heart, your love, your trust, respect, and loyalty. The fact that you’d felt a guy like him, five years younger than yourself and completely out of your league, deserved a chance to be with you?
Yeah, that was still something he felt constantly amazed by each and every day.
But right now, he wasn’t really focused on that.
Not when his cock throbbed to be inside of you.
Your chemistry was insane, the emotional connection like nothing he’d ever felt before, but your sexual chemistry was enough to start a wildfire.
From that very first night - though he tried to be a gentleman, play it off that a younger guy like him wasn’t sex crazed and could handle being mature and play the long game - the sex was good. Like, really good. Stupidly good. Exceeded expectations.
He’d craved you every day since, even when he was in the middle of satisfying that craving, he knew he’d always want more, need more, would always need you.
Andrei had tried to calm that familiar need with a quickie this morning, but you chastised him, reminded him that you were already running late to the beach getaway, so he played the role of dutiful boyfriend as you shuffled him out of the house and into his car, you in those damn denim shorts, his shirt, knowing the entire time that under all of that was that god damn fucking white bikini -
Yeah, he wasn’t exactly happy with not being able to at least do something before having to sit here with a half hard cock and stare at you all day with all these people around and nowhere decent to sneak off to so he could at least bend you over and fuck you, ease the ache.
Not to mention it took three hours and forty five minutes to fucking be here.
And that you’re stuck here.
For three days.
His nostrils flare as he stares at you, watching as you uncross and recross your ankles, shifting your legs to sit more comfortably, anklet flashing in the sun.
You’re all at Freddie’s new beach house in the Outer Banks, breaking it in with the first summer barbecue of the season. Given the fact that the goalie himself is pretty massive, the house itself is a spacious monstrosity, enough to fit the team and a smattering of their partners among the guest bedrooms on the first, second, and third floor, as well as the finished basement, and highly unnecessary pool house.
It’s a three day weekend thing, and though you and Andrei have a room to yourselves in the back first floor corner of the house, he already knows you both won’t get the use out of it that you want.
That he wants, at least.
Andrei watches you closely as you and the girls all get up, heading for the sea, and he gets up as casually as possible, tossing his hat and sunglasses onto his lounge chair, then leaning over and tapping Sebastian on his chest, nodding with his chin toward the ocean.
“Up for a swim?” He asks, and Seb nods, following Andrei as he trails after you.
When he gets to the water, he pretends like he’s walking right by you, just an innocent passerby, when he moves the back of his hand out just a little, skin brushing against the exposed cheek of your ass, across the material of your bikini bottoms, to your other cheek, till he’s walking away.
He can feel the pinpricks of your gaze on his back and refuses to look back at you as he and Seb dive under the waves, the salty brine assaulting his senses immediately, meeting his teammate and friend as they swim out further.
A few of the other guys and girls who were lingering on the sand end up joining them a moment later, the whole of attendees for the beach getaway now in the water.
Andrei makes it about seven whole minutes fucking around with the guys before he notices you’re wading about three feet away from him in the water, so he swims closer, closing the distance once he can reach out and grab your ankle, dragging you to him.
Your legs wrap around his waist on instinct, arms winding around his neck as his hands cup your ass. He presses what he pretends to be an innocent kiss to your lips, swiping his tongue at the seam just as he’s pulling away.
He sees it then, the flash in your eyes, the sign that tells him he’s starting to push his limits, and he knows. That was his entire point, but he smiles back at you innocently, like nothing’s amiss.
Of course, you don’t buy it.
“Drei,” you murmur, moving to unwind your legs from around him, but he brings a hand up and squeezes your side, trailing that hand further up to play with where your bikini is tied at the nape of your neck.
“What is it, kroshka?” He murmurs, pulling at one of the strings.
“No,” you say firmly, legs dropping from around him and putting space between you sooner than he’s able to react. You’re looking up at him now from where he looms over you at six foot two, but you both know he might as well be on his knees with the fire in your irises.
He pouts. “Just a little?”
You roll your eyes, stepping back, wading toward your friends and tossing a “Enjoy the weekend, Drei” over your shoulder as you go.
It’s only then that Andrei realizes his heart’s pounding in his chest, and the throb of his heartbeat echoes to his cock.
He’s not even looking when Seb and Pyotr approach him from behind, jumping on him and forcing him under the water.
~
At dinnertime, Freddie, Brent, and Andrei are helping to man the grill out on his patio, the breeze from the sea cooling the air and the house.
Some of the guys are inside fiddling with snacks and sides that have been laid out, and others are out here setting up the ridiculously large dining table Freddie insisted on buying. You’re with the girls mixing cocktails and mocktails at the bar across the patio space, flitting in and out of Freddie’s kitchen every now and again to help with dessert or running the rest of the meat out to Freddie and Andrei to grill.
He watches you closely, eyes constantly roaming over the red sundress you put on after you’d showered away the salt water. Your hair is swept up into a neat bun on your head, little stray pieces of hair framing your face. The gold jewelry on your body glints in the setting sun, his eyes roaming over your little gold earrings, necklace, your bracelets, the little rings on your fingers, and most importantly, the gold anklet above your bare feet, the white polish of your toenails bringing out the jewelry’s shade more than he thought possible.
Dammit.
Now he was hard again.
He turns his attention back to the grill for a quick distraction, flipping the steaks in front of him a final time before handing them off to Freddie for him to slice up and bring over to you, so you could add it to the waiting bowls of steak salad and plates of steak fettuccine.
Once dinner’s finally ready, everyone descends on the table, toasting once to thank Freddie and celebrate his new vacation home, then digging into the family style served meal. Conversation flows easily, laughter and idle chatter floating in the breeze.
The food is good - of course it is, you helped make a little over half of it - and people eat their fill and drink to their heart’s content, soft music playing in the background. He pointedly does not watch the way your lips purse and cheeks hollow as you suck a fettuccine noodle into your mouth, and ignores the way you moan in satisfaction when you try Freddie’s first attempt at kanelstang, a danish cinnamon twist pastry that clearly has gone well.
When the single guys on the team start to clear dishes and put leftovers in the fridge, Andrei feels himself relax a little, knowing he’s just that bit closer to getting you alone in your room and trying his damndest to convince you to let him taste you, at the very least.
You’re sitting to his right and you’ve got one hand on his thigh, another holding your wine glass as you and Gracia, Brady’s wife, ask Freddie about his plans to visit home from where he sits at the head of the table to your right.
Absentmindedly, you’re rubbing your hand in a soothing pattern from his knee to mid thigh then back again, and Andrei has to do everything in his power not to act like a caveman and haul you over his shoulder, drag you out to the car, and fuck you against the hood of it for everyone to see in a very public claiming.
Instead, he grabs his drink and takes a couple of gulps, trying to will away the need blooming in the pit of his stomach.
From his left, Pyotr starts to chat with him about the next season, and from across from him, Brady chimes in, helping him in pulling his attention away from you for a little bit.
Things manage to ease out, and Andrei feels relief when his blood starts to cool.
That is, until Jordan turns the volume up on Freddie’s stereo, wandering onto the patio double fisting handles of tequila, and shouting “Body shots!” as Jesperi trails behind him, holding a bag of cut limes in one hand and a bag with the Hurricanes pro shop logo on it in the other.
“What’s in the bag?” Freddie asks, gesturing with his chin.
Jesperi smirks, reaching into the pro shop bag and pulling out shot glasses with the team logo on it. He shakes the bag a little in emphasis. “I asked for a bunch of shot glasses before we left for the season and they just gave them to me.”
“But isn’t the point of body shots to take them off of someone’s body?” Seth questions.
Jesperi shrugs. “I thought you put the shot glass on their body?”
“No, you pour the shot in their belly button.” Turbo says.
Jesperi’s eyes bulge, then his face sours. “That’s disgusting, some of you have outies.”
“Oh for fucks sake,” you mutter, knocking back the last of your wine before placing your glass on the table.
“Go for it, hotshot,” Brent calls from the end of the table, wrapping an arm around his wife’s waist. He flashes you one of his mischievous toothless smiles. “Show ‘em how it’s done.”
You smirk, “Gladly, come watch and learn rookies,” you taunt, standing up and holding your hand out for Andrei.
He swallows, already half hard beneath his black sweats. If he lays down….
Ah well, fuck it.
Andrei places his hand in yours, and you lead him over to the low brick wall on the other side of the patio table, the one separating the upper level where you all had dinner, to the lower level where Freddie’s pool is.
He strips off his shirt, resting it on the wall to give him something to lay back on before climbing up and resting on his back, turning his hat forwards again so the brim shields his eyes, then crossing his arms behind his head. You ignore the cocky smile on his lips, turning to where Jesperi and a small group have gathered behind you. Jordan turns up the music as he saunters over, something clubby with enough bass that it rattles Andrei’s bones.
Good thing Freddie’s neighbors are far enough away.
“Give me a lime, Kotkaniemi.” You order, and Jesperi obeys almost immediately, placing one in your outstretched hand.
Andrei knows that all too well, being quick to obey you.
He bites the inside of his cheek, trying to incite a little pain to ease his growing hard on.
It doesn’t work, because now Andrei’s hoping you’ll be biting his collarbone when you lick up his chest in a few seconds.
You rub the lime in a trail from above his belly button, up his torso, then onto Andrei’s collarbone, in the exact spot he was imagining, before raising the lime wedge to his mouth. He parts his lips obediently, and there’s that flash in your eyes again, the sight of it shooting right through his veins.
He bites down on the rind, eyes tracking your every movement. One of the girls holds out a little dish of pink sugar, and you pinch a bit in your hands, sprinkling it over the streak of lime juice on Andrei’s body.
Of course he’d done this before. He’d done this with you at least a dozen times - at parties, in the privacy of your own home - and he wondered why some of his teammates seemed surprised by that fact as they looked on.
“You don’t have to drink the alcohol out of their belly button,” you explain, grabbing one of the handles from Jordan’s hand and a shot glass out of the pro shop bag, turning to Andrei once more. “Flex,” you instruct.
He does, flexing his abdominal muscles, delighting in the way your eyes flash again, eyelids blinking slowly, tracking the way your eyelashes kiss the tops of your cheeks when your face starts to get that syrupy expression he loves so much.
It’s gone in a split second, and Andrei’s heart hammers in his chest.
You place the shot glass on his belly, then work on uncapping the handle of tequila. “You can put the shot glass between their legs, on their stomach, basically anywhere on their body where the glass sits nicely, or you could always make them hold it. The important bit is to lick the lime and salt, or sugar, if you prefer, right after, and grab the lime from their lips with your mouth.”
The guys are holding onto your every word, while you look at the girls. Andrei watches as you all smirk and share knowing looks with one another, and he only wishes he could begin to comprehend the ways in which women understand seduction so much better than men.
“It makes the experience a little more exciting,” you finish your explanation by filling the shot glass on his abs, leaving a little room at the top.
When you hand the handle back to Jordan, there’s a hard beat of Andrei’s heart, hoping you don’t make him wait for this, that you don’t leave him in suspense, that you -
His prayers are answered when you bend down immediately, lips closing around the shot glass and uprighting yourself, tossing the shot back, then grabbing the glass in one hand, resting your other hand on the waistband of his sweats as you lick up the sugar and lime trail, tongue pressing firmly to collect it all before reaching the end of the trail on his collarbone.
Like he hoped you would, you close your mouth and suck, biting down and then laving the bite with a firm stroke of your tongue, the grit of the sugar scratching nicely against Andrei’s skin.
There’s whoops and cheers that sound muffled to his ears, and he watches as you smile and stick your tongue out at him playfully.
The now bright pink tinge to your tongue makes his cock rock hard in under a second.
You lean down, biting the flesh of the lime and he releases it, watching as you suck on it, then pull it free from your mouth, sticking the wedge in your shot glass.
“And that’s how it’s done,” you say with finality, taking a small curtsy when everyone laughs.
He laughs too as the guys shout their praises and impressed words at him, and he’s whipping his shirt on almost immediately, hopping off the wall. He bends his head down to smile at you, happy to find you already smiling at him, and you rise up on your toes. Andrei turns his hat backwards again as he bends down, loving the way you kiss him so sweetly.
“Thank you for assisting me with the demonstration.” You say.
“Of course, kroshka.” He all but preens. He clears his throat then, looking to the others with a raised brow. “Alright, who wants to go next?”
~
He doesn’t manage to fuck you that night after the round of body shots, but mostly because by the time the two of you got ready for bed and laid down, he didn’t realize how exhausted you both were from just the first day.
You’d been wide awake and on the go since leaving Raleigh that morning, and that, paired with the long drive, the rest of the day in the sun, lunch on the beach, the first night dinner, and body shots along with a little bit of dancing - once you both got under the covers, all Andrei had time to do was wrap you in his arms and then you were both out like a light.
When he woke up, your side of the bed was cold, and it wasn’t until he padded out into the living area that he found you were already showered, dressed, and in the kitchen with Gracia, Brent’s wife, and Freddie cooking breakfast for everyone. His eyes scanned the white flowy button up and shorts you wore, spotting the red bikini you were wearing underneath it. You’d worn your hair down, your jewelry on display, including his favorite - the anklet.
But one look at him from you told him there’d be no funny business today either.
Yeah, well he’d just have to see about that himself.
He bided his time. Played the innocent boyfriend as he helped you set the table for breakfast, kept a respectable hand on your thigh while you ate in the company of everyone. After breakfast, people broke off in groups, some choosing to stay and swim, some going to look at the lighthouse, some going shopping, and others to Jockey’s Ridge to check out the sand dunes.
When you all decided to meet up and go go-kart racing after lunch, Andrei only put his competitive streak aside once to let you get a place ahead of him in ranking, but the second you took off the helmet and sat out of one of the laps, he smoked everyone with a cocky smirk tossed in your direction.
You merely raised a brow at him in turn, a hint for him to turn down the attitude, but he wore it proudly, tucking his hand in the back pocket of your shorts when he escorted you back to the car, dodging a smack to the chest when he squeezed your ass particularly hard before removing his hand and helping you into your side.
When everyone got back to the house for dinner, Freddie dragged out his brand new fire pit for a bonfire on his area of the beach. You all roasted hot dogs and chicken wings for dinner, had s'mores for dessert, and you and the girls lugged out a gatorade cooler dispenser with jungle juice inside. Jordan dragged out his bluetooth speaker and there were people sitting in chairs, or laying on towels, covering themselves with blankets as the ocean breeze brought a chill to the summer night air.
You were resting with your back against Andrei’s chest as his arms wrapped around you, your arms resting atop his, his legs bracketing yours as you cuddled under the large, thick, black blanket you shared.
“You look so beautiful, zajka,” he murmurs in your ear, dropping a kiss to the sea salt coated skin of your shoulder, letting his lips linger there to press smaller kisses.
“Spasibo, malysh” you respond, turning to press a kiss of your own to his temple.
He’s instantly hard, and he knows you know, especially when you lean back into him a little more, wiggling your ass under the pretense of getting comfortable on the towels beneath you.
Andrei takes a quick glance around the fire, cataloging who’s paying attention, who’s within hearing range, if anyone’s paying attention to the two of you.
The answer’s no one - everyone’s either wrapped up in their significant other, tipsy, or too engrossed in their own conversations to pay you and Andrei any mind, and it’s dark enough out that the glow from the fire several feet in front of you doesn’t put the two of you in any kind of spotlight.
So he trails one hand down your stomach and bends one of his legs, using his knee to lift the blanket a little to hide his movements, delighting in the way you shiver against him when his fingers graze over your bikini-covered pussy.
“Drei,” you murmur, a hint of surprise and a dash of warning in your tone.
“I know,” he says, pulling the material to the side, coasting one finger through your folds, swearing a little to himself when he finds you’re practically dripping.
He gasps a little, then his eyes narrow. “You’ve needed me just as badly, haven’t you?” Andrei sees the way your throat works, swallowing a nervous lump before you nod, capturing your bottom lip between your teeth. “And were you going to tell me, zajka? Or keep pushing me away?”
“It’s not appropriate,” you respond quietly. “They’re technically your co-workers.”
Even if you have a point, it’s a weak rebuttal, you both know it. “They’re not even looking at us.”
Just to make sure of that fact, he keeps his eyes ahead of him while he drags his finger up to your clit and begins to circle the sensitive nub the way you taught him to, the way he knows you love. He scans the group every now and again to make sure you’re still not being watched.
You’re not, thankfully, and no one notices when your breathing starts to quicken a little.
Andrei does though, and he pulls you back against him a little closer so his hand can inch down just a little more, sinking one finger inside of you. Using the meat of his palm to press firmly against your clit, he applies enough pressure that when his hand moves to sink his finger inside of you, your sensitive little bud brushes against his palm, and almost immediately Andrei can feel you relax against him.
He bends his head a little, whispering to you. “Kroshka,” he praises.
“More,” you murmur in return, “Need more, Drei.”
“I know, I know,” he says, trying to soothe the heat coursing through your veins. He adds a second finger, and when you immediately clench down, he says “Breathe baby, breathe, you’re taking it so well so far.”
To anyone else, it looks like two lovers having a nice conversation.
To Andrei and you, who know better, it’s a fight to keep his fingers stroking in and out of you at a pace fast enough for you to come, and slow enough that the wet sounds of him finger fucking your pussy don’t alert anyone to your misdeeds.
He finds his rhythm, his movements precise and firm, and his ears are perked up for any tell-tale sound that falls from your lips, or within your throat, body attuned to yours to also look for any physical signs.
Like the way you start to squirm a little, how you squeeze down when he starts to scissor his fingers a little, how you pretend to adjust yourself to sit more comfortably, only so you can angle your hips just so that it pushes his fingers a little deeper, and then he’s stroking that soft, spongey part inside of you with the pads of his fingers so well, that you have to bite your lip from moaning.
“Do you want to come, zajka?” Andrei asks softly, whispering the words as he presses his lips to the shell of your ear. “Do you want me to make you come?”
You nod, and he can see the corner of your mouth tilt up in a smile, “Please,” you beg sweetly.
“Please what?” He taunts, stopping his ministrations altogether. Your hips almost buck against him in protest, and he can tell you want to whine, but you don’t. Your lips press firmly together, and he knows it’s because when the tables turn, when he’s in charge like this, you like to be a bit of a brat just as much as he does.
“Use your words, zajka.” His words are firm, and he bites the lobe of your ear playfully to make his point. “Please what?”
“Please let me come, malysh.” You finally beg. He relents a little, resuming the slow strokes of his fingers.
“Take out my cock.” Andrei instructs, moving himself so it looks like he’s leaning back propped up on one hand. “Take out my cock and stroke me.”
Your snake one of your hands behind you, between your bodies, and with deft fingers, undo the tie on his board shorts and part the material, reaching in and pulling out his hard cock. You take it in your fist, squeezing firmly as you stroke him up and down.
Andrei’s eyes scan over the group again, and still, thank fuck, no one seems to pay the two of you any mind.
You manage to gather the bead of pre-come at the head of his cock, massaging it around before twisting your wrist in a way that nearly makes him go cross eyed.
“Faster,” he demands, and you obey, picking up speed, and as a reward, he resumes his original pace, fingers plunging in and out of your wet heat, massaging that part inside of you that has you squeezing your thighs together in no time.
When your orgasm hits, your pussy squeezes down, locking his fingers in a vice grip as you gush around them, your breath coming out of your nose in soft little puffs. Your hand squeezes him tight as you ride out your orgasm, twisting up around the head of his cock and then Andrei’s coming too, biting the inside of his check to stop him from making any noise, using all of his control not to buck his hips up or jostle the two of you in anyway.
As the post-orgasm haze clears, Andrei slips his fingers out of you gently, one at a time, and you slowly release his cock, wiping the come that got on your fingers onto the towel beneath you. Though he hates to waste your orgasm by wiping it on his shorts, it’s the best he can do in terms of cleaning up for now, so he wipes his fingers, then uses the inside of his shirt to clean up his come that splattered over his belly.
You lean forward a little so he can inspect your back, and he wipes off the little bit that landed there as well before pulling his shirt back down.
Once the two of you are semi-put-together again, he circles his arms around you, letting out a small happy sigh.
“Thank you, malysh,” you say quietly, pressing back against him, curling your butt against his lap as you lace his fingers with yours.
He presses a kiss to your temple. “Anything for you, zajka.”
~
Sukin syn.
You and your goddamn bikinis are going to send him to an early grave, he’s sure of it.
At least this was the last day of this little getaway, and everyone leaves tomorrow and you can put this god forsaken weekend behind you, because if Andrei didn’t get you back home to your bed, and soon, he was pretty sure he was going to strangle somebody.
Andrei approaches you with one sole purpose in mind - feel your ass in his lap again, just the way you sat in his lap last night after your little tryst in front of the bonfire.
You didn’t fuck last night, and though the handjob sated him just fine, he woke up this morning to find you gone, again, when he was rock hard, and all he really wanted, all he could think about, was wanting to pull your sleep shorts to the side and lick your pussy till you flipped him on his back to ride his face until you came all over his tongue.
After scarfing down a bowl of cereal, he stalks out of the back of the house and down the beach, where you’re already in the water swimming with the girls and a smattering of the guys on the team.
He thinks he’s being slick when he approaches you in the water from behind, using the ocean as cover for his current predicament. He’s fully hard when he gets close enough to wrap his arms around you, pretending to lean on you while you’re talking to Seth and grinding his board shorts covered cock into you, trying to make you blush, make you flustered.
Your hand snakes back, squeezing his thigh and digging your nails into his skin in warning. He stops circling his hips, but keeps himself pressed against you anyway.
“You left me in bed alone again, kroshka.” He whispers into your neck.
You turn in his arms, a semi stern expression on your face. “I already said it’s not appropriate, Andrei.”
He frowns. “But don’t you want to?”
“Of course I do,” you frown, wondering how he could possibly think otherwise, but add “But not here.”
“But you liked last night?”
Your brow furrows. “You know I did.”
“Then let me-” He’s cut off by Martin jumping on his back, shouting “Svechy!” then yanking him backward and splashing them both into the surf. When he comes back up, he shakes the ocean out of his eyes and finds you several feet away, back with the girls, and - if the sharp set to your shoulders is any indication - promptly ending your conversation.
Fine.
He could play the long game for you.
He fucks around with the guys, playing football, a bit of beach volleyball, and swimming over the next couple of hours.
Eventually, you wander over to let him know you’re heading back to the house to shower, change, and help Freddie get lunch ready, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek before trekking back up the beach and toward the house.
Andrei waits a little, gives himself at least a ten minute window before he excuses himself from the surf and trails after you.
When he gets back to the house, he’s confused when he doesn’t find you in the kitchen, or in your room or attached bathroom. He heads back out of the patio, circling to the side of the house and intending to head to the car, checking to see if maybe you and Freddie already left to go grocery shopping or something, but instead, he comes upon someone using the outdoor shower.
It’s a closed in shower stall, big enough to fit two people, and the stall door is raised so he can see a pair of feet, soapy suds trailing down and being rinsed off familiar skin, and the gold anklet confirms that he’s found you.
He smirks to himself, opening the door and laughing a little when you jump, arms crossed over your bare breasts as the showerhead rains water down on you from above. “Andrei!” You hiss, eyes blazing with fire.
You’ve still got your bikini bottoms on, and as Andrei shuts the door behind him, locking you both in, he reaches for you, reaches so he can undo the ties at your waist, toss those cursed things far fucking away, and drop down to his knees so he can-
“What do you think you’re doing, shchenok?” You demand, arms still crossed over your chest like he’s never seen you bare to the waist before.
Shchenok. You called him shchenok. Puppy. He blinks, hands dropping to his sides.
“I just want to touch you,” he explains, not even trying to downplay the undertone of a wine in his voice. “I just want you.”
His admission lingers in the air for a beat, then two, and you sigh, dropping your arms from your breasts only to hold them open, and he goes to you without a second thought.
Andrei relaxes just a fraction when you hold him under the shower spray, your arms stroking up and down his back in a soothing pattern, your head tucked into his neck and his cheek resting on top of your head.
“You want me, shchenok?” You murmur.
“I need you,” he replies softly, correcting his earlier statement, wanting to make sure he’s being clear. “Need you so badly, moya koroleva.”
You nod, pulling back a little to look up at him, watching the ways he blinks slowly, looking at your eyes, then your lips, your chest, and back up again. When he finally makes eye contact with you, you bring your hands to his cheeks, pulling him down and capturing his lips with yours.
Andrei moans, body going lax and arms pulling you tighter against him. The kiss gets intense and dirty fast, especially when Andrei backs you against the wall of the stall right below the shower head, reaching down to grab your ass and you hop up, wrapping your legs around him, locking your ankles at the base of his spine and your hands behind his neck.
He grinds into you when you bite his bottom lip, licking over it after to soothe the sting. Andrei parts his lips on instinct, hiking you higher so when he tips his head back a little and opens his mouth, sticking his tongue out, you can bring one hand forward to hold his chin, watching the way the water from the shower head drips into his mouth, and you hold out your tongue, mesmerized when the water trails from your mouth into his.
You massage his tongue with your own gently, pulling back and pursing your lips, gathering water before parting your lips and letting your spit trail off of your tongue, flowing with the water back into Andrei’s mouth.
When he closes his lips, swallowing, he sees the way that your eyes flash, the way your skin heats beneath his touch and he surges forward, taking your lips again in a bruising kiss, moaning when your hands snake into his hair and grip at the strands.
He feels like he’s going insane with need, the way he kisses you like it’s the first time all over again, trying to convince you that he might be younger, but he’s definitely man enough to take care of you, to tend to you, to be worthy of you, to worship you. A sharp hiss falls from his lips and his cock throbs in his board shorts when you tug harshly, pulling his head back for him to look at you.
“You need to behave, shchenok, do you understand?” You chastise, voice soft.
He nods, whimpering when you tug at his hair again, punctuating your point with a slow grind of your hips against his abdomen. All blood rushes south, his cock painfully hard in his board shorts. “Da, moya koroleva.”
Andrei can barely breathe when he notices your eyes zero in on something on his face, and you bring a hand to his lips. You run your thumb over his bottom lip, tugging it a little before your hand sinks into his hair and you’re kissing him again. It’s downright filthy, and Andrei grips your ass tighter in his hands, rubbing your still bikini clad pussy against his abdomen, moving you up and down, and grinding into you each time he brings you back down.
After a few more minutes, you ask him between kisses “Can you be quick?”
He nods emphatically. “Da, moya koroleva, I promise I’ll be quick.”
“You’ll wait until we’re home tomorrow to have me properly?”
He hums out his agreement, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, only supplying a verbal “yes” after you yank at his hair.
“And you’ll stop trying to misbehave when we’re around the others?” You ask, making sure your limits are clear.
“Yes I swear, I’ll stop.” Andrei swears, “I’ll be your good boy.”
He can feel you smile against his lips, and then you’re pulling back, looking into his eyes. He waits patiently as he knows to, and when you finally murmur “Take your cock out and put it inside me, Andrei.”
The groan that leaves his mouth is a little loud but god could anyone blame him? With the way you say his name so sweetly like that? The way it sounds like a prayer? Like you’re asking him “give me the world, Andrei” and all he can do is say “anything for you moya koroleva” in return?
He keeps you propped up with one hand, the other yanking at the ties on his board shorts and pulling them down just a little to free his cock, and then he’s yanking the crotch of your bikini bottoms to the side, sinking into your sopping wet pussy and burying himself to the hilt in one stroke.
A soft “oh fuck” leaves your lips, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in close, Andrei burying his face into your neck and bringing his hand back to your ass, breathing deeply, trying to stave off his orgasm for as long as possible. He holds you both there, him sitting all the way inside you, waiting for you to adjust, to tell him he can fuck you. You pulse around him, and even though the shower is still raining water down on both of you, he feels like he’s going to break into a sweat trying to restrain himself.
“Move, Andrei, please.” You murmur into his ear, and he holds tight to you, withdrawing his hips just a little before pushing back in, and hard. “Be quick, malysh.” You remind him, and he nods into your neck, picking up his pace.
If he was younger, he might be embarrassed to say he’s been halfway to an orgasm since he let himself into this shower stall, but all he can care about right now is making sure that you get to come too. He’s deliberate with his body, making sure to keep his abs pressed against your clit so every time he grinds his hips into you he brushes against it, making sure his cock stays deep enough that he hits that glorious spot inside of you that makes you clench down around him in a grip that Andrei can’t interpret as anything other than your body saying “you’re mine.”
“I’m going to come, Andrei,” you whimper, and he nods again, biting down into your neck to stifle his moans, to suffocate the groan threatening to rip from his throat when you squeeze down and come, his vision going black.
He pumps his cock past the tight grip of you, drives his hips in once, twice, three times before he’s burying himself to the hilt again and coming, cock throbbing out his release, and your ankles lock tighter around him, pulling him impossibly closer. He can feel the press of your anklet into his skin, can feel the little “A” charm leaving its indentation as thick ropes of his come paint your insides, claiming you from the inside out.
You both let out a sated sigh, chests heaving with relief, and Andrei kisses you, singing his praises and gratitude with every press of his lips against yours, the way you can feel each other’s heartbeats at where you’re still connected.
When he finally regains his breath, he brings his head out from where it’s been tucked in your neck to say thank you, to assure you that he’s going to keep his promise and be a good boy and behave for the rest of the weekend -
But then Freddie’s deep voice cuts through the air, calling your name, and Andrei freezes, looking at you in worry.
“Yeah?” You call out, cutting your eyes at Andrei in a way that tells him “behave, shchenok,” even though you’re smiling at him like he hung the goddamn sun in the sky.
“Are you still okay to help me with lunch?” Freddie asks.
“Yes I am! Sorry, just let me dry off and change inside and I’ll meet you in the kitchen.” You call back, sounding completely put together.
“Sounds good,” Freddie calls back, and you and Andrei both wait until you hear his footsteps fade away to move again.
Andrei presses a kiss to your temple, backing you both away from the wall so he can set you down gently, waiting until you’re sure you can stand on your own before he lets go. You take off your bikini bottoms then, and Andrei grabs it from you, along with your bikini top from where it hangs on the hook behind the stall door. He hands you your towel, and you take it, shutting the water off.
“When we get home,” you start, taking your swimsuit from his hands and moving the couple of steps to the door, “if you’re good, if you behave, you can have me properly then, okay?” you ask, wrapping the towel around your waist and then opening the door to the shower stall. Andrei nods in response, and you smile at him.
Just before you close the door, you turn back to him, sly smirk on your lips. “You can have me properly, after your punishment, that is.”
Andrei definitely does not gulp, but he does fully embrace the little shiver of anticipation that zips up his spine, watching your ass sway behind the towel the whole time you walk back up to the house.
~
“Are you sure you’re not cold, kroshka?” Andrei asks.
You lift your sunglasses off of your head so you can gaze up at him and where he’s standing in front of you, holding one of the overly large towels that you brought for the weekend in his hands, poised in the air and ready to drape over you the second you say so.
Except, you don’t say so.
And this is the third time in the last hour that he’s asked.
“Andrei, honey,” you tell him gently, trying not to let your patience meet its wits end, lowering your sunglasses to peer up at him. “It’s eighty degrees out, I promise I’m not cold.”
He frowns for a half second, towel still hanging in the air from his fingers. “Well, there’s trade winds, and it’s only ten in the morning,” he offers lamely. “It cools things down.”
“Not enough that I need a towel as a blanket.” You insist, readjusting your sunglasses and leaning back onto your lounge chair. “I’m fine, I promise.”
He huffs, plopping down into his own lounge chair on the right of yours, narrowing his eyes at his teammates, trying to make sure they’re not looking at you.
You, in this beautiful fucking all white two piece bikini set looking like you came out of an X rated version of Baywatch. It’s a two piece, a white number that he knew you owned, but was not aware that you’d brought along with you, and a lot more risque than the other white set you wore earlier in the trip.
The bottom, he’s pretty sure it’s a thong bikini, if the way that the material seemingly vanished between your ass cheek when you took your shorts off earlier is anything to go by. The triangle top that tied at the back and at the neck was surprisingly comfortable enough to hold the girls up, and keep them sitting nicely together.
It’s the day you’re all supposed to be leaving, heading back home and closing out the weekend getaway. And he’s grateful, he really is, but given that everyone’s not leaving for another couple of hours, he’s not feeling grateful at the fact that his teammates might get a glimpse of your ass in that goddamn thong.
He knows he can’t say that, so instead, he takes a small pause before he clears his throat, almost like he’s nervous, then offers “Maybe you can wear my shirt instead?”
This time, you take off your sunglasses completely and drop them into your lap, lolling your head to the left to look at him, at where he’s sitting sideways on his chair, facing you, his shirt hanging from two extended fingers, his face frowning, again.
But this time, you manage to register just what he’s frowning at, eyes casting down your own body at-
Your bikini.
Andrei’s heart thumps in his chest.
When he can see that it clicks into place for you, you let out a small, soft laugh, before looking back at Andrei with a smirk. He knows that you’ve got him figured out now, and when your eyes meet his, his frown deepens, grip on his shirt getting tighter as he extends it out to you, shaking it once.
“Please put it on.” He all but begs, trying to sound stern, but the plea is there all the same.
“What’s wrong with my bikini?” you ask playfully, although there is genuine curiosity in the back of your mind. You both know that it’s nothing too risque, nothing that Andrei hasn’t seen before, but Andrei feels a low simmering rage at the very idea of his teammate looking at you for longer than two milliseconds.
Andrei smiles bashfully in turn, dropping his shirt into his lap and reaching out, the tips of his fingers skimming over your bare shoulder, and trailing slowly down your arm. “Nothing’s wrong with it baby, you look like a fucking goddess, moya koroleva.” His voice is soft, a little hoarse, and a small smile creeps on your face.
“Then why do you keep trying to cover me up?”
He frowns again, his fingers finally reaching your hand, and he takes it in his own, playing with the various rings on your fingers a little before bringing your hand to his lips, and kisses the back of it gently. “I just wanna keep the view all to myself.”
You can feel the heat rush to your cheeks, never quite sure how to deal with his honest compliments and take a quick glance around the beach. Andrei takes a look too, and while the guys and girls are spread out pretty evenly, he still frowns.
“You know everyone here, Drei.” You say sweetly as your eyes finish scanning the beach and return to him, who’s scowling now, his lips pressing gentle kisses to your hand, your palm, and each finger. He huffs out a breath, then slowly lowers your joined hands between you both, eyes cast down to the sand.
“Maybe,” he counters, nose scrunched up in frustration. “But all I can think about is the possibility of one of them snapping their neck doing a double take to get a good look at you, and I don’t like it.”
He knows you’ve rarely seen his aggression and rage off of the ice, but when you do, it’s typically in moments like this, involving you, his family, or his friends, rage driven by the need to protect, defend.
Or in this case, possess.
You squeeze his hand, and when he looks up at you, his heart thumps when he finds you smirking at him a little. “You don’t want anyone to look at me, shchenok?”
He shakes his head, frowning. “No, I don’t.”
“You don’t want anyone to touch me?”
His nostrils flare, the word “Zajka” coming out of his mouth in warning.
The smirk stretches wider over your lips until you flash him a devious smile, ignoring his attempt to flip this around. “You can’t touch me either though, remember? You’ve been bad, and you’ve got a punishment coming up.”
He blinks then, nodding. “I remember.”
“And you promised you’d be good.” You remind him, and he nods again, eyes watching you, waiting.
Andrei sees it, when you pull back from taking the lead, eyes softening when you squeeze his hand again. “I didn’t mean for it to make you upset, you know. I wore it for you.”
His heart lurches against his chest, beating against his rib cage like it’s trying to break out of its earthly prison. “You did?”
You nod, pulling his hand to yours and kissing the back of it, just like he did to you. “How about,” you begin, kissing it softly once more before moving to each of his fingers, starting with his pinky, “I’ll put on my shorts” his ring finger, “and you be a good boy” his middle finger, “put your shirt back on,” his index finger, “and cover up that beautiful tummy of yours?”
He’s quick to nod, entranced as he watches you kiss his thumb and his eyes blow wide, attention solely on you as you gently untangle your hand from his before taking it in both of yours, bringing it to your mouth, and sucking his index finger between your lips.
His breath hitches, eyes wandering the beach to find no one near, thank god, and goes back to watching you, completely enraptured as your tongue gently glides along the pad of his finger as you pull it from your mouth with a soft ‘pop.’ Andrei’s eyebrows pull together, focusing on the image, before you drop his hand from yours, placing your hands innocently in your lap and then look up at him.
He blinks, and you can see him trying to pull himself together enough to get moving, yanking his shirt over his head.
You laugh at him a little, lowering your sunglasses to say “You can continue to be good for these last couple hours before we go home, can’t you shchenok?”
Andrei nods. “Yes, moya koroleva.”
You smirk, raising your sunglasses back up, then grabbing your shorts from beside you, tugging them up your legs before laying back on the lounge chair. “Good, now go hang out with your friends, and try to hide your boner.”
~
Where he managed to find the audacity, you would never know.
Andrei’s been pushing your damn buttons all day - all weekend, at that - being a little shit around the guys just because he could, just to get a reaction out of you. You never gave him one, of course, other than telling him to cool it and drawing a line in the sand, but you could tell it didn’t matter to him.
Every time you looked his way, you could see it - his eyes glinting with mischief.
And every time he came into your orbit, you could feel it - when his fingers grazed across your bikini clad butt, trying to undo the tie on your bikini top when you’re in the water, all the lingering touches, squeezing your ass through your shorts, fingering you at the bonfire, you having to sneak in a quickie in the outdoor shower just so he’d stop trying to jump your bones.
Not to mention, he had the nerve to try to finger you within the first twenty minutes of the drive home, knowing full well he had a punishment heading his way.
The dirty sobachka.
Make no mistake - you were attracted to Andrei, and you were head over heels in love with him. You appreciated and adored how attracted to you he was, how much he needed you, and deeply valued the love that the two of you shared.
But this was the first time you’d been around his friends and teammates and their partners in such a capacity since you started dating earlier this year, and you were trying to make a good impression.
They all know you’re five years older than Andrei, their precious Drei, who means so much to them and who they make a point to look after. So maybe it was silly, but you wanted to prove you were capable of doing the same, that you loved him, and that he hadn’t made a mistake by picking someone like you.
And him trying his best to attempt to bend you over every surface and fuck you every chance he got this weekend wasn’t exactly working in your favor.
Not to mention - the main thing that’s been driving you crazy all fucking weekend - he’s been walking around with his gorgeous abs out like that every damn day, not a shirt in sight unless necessary, and your mind went to so many filthy places at once, you were surprised no one called you out for the flush in your cheeks and the squeeze of your thighs whenever your eyes lingered on his naked torso for longer than necessary.
You felt better now that the weekend was over, sure. It was clear your anxieties were for nothing, that you had nothing to worry about. The girls who seemed like your friends during the season proved to actually be your friends, and the guys all seemed to like you just fine. Freddie even thanked you profusely for all of your help this weekend - cooking, helping with laundry, and cleaning - all things you hadn’t felt forced to do and did out of kindness, but he appreciated nonetheless.
And now that you’re finally on the way back after swimming the morning away, and Andrei’s driving you both home, sitting there still shirtless, hat backwards, skin warm from the sun? Yeah.
The gears are already turning in your head on how to make this little brat of yours pay for his little stunts this weekend.
You plot and scheme during the remainder of the drive, Andrei none the wiser as he keeps one hand on the steering wheel, the other on your thigh, taking a second whenever he can to either lean across the console and kiss your cheek, or take your hand, lace your fingers together and kiss the back of it before resting it back on your thigh.
By the time you get home and inside, you can’t even make it to the bedroom - you’re so fed up with his antics and ready to prove a point that before you can even blink you’re shoving him down to the couch, hands on your hips and eyebrow raised because he should know better by now, and judging by the look in his eyes, he only just now remembered that he’s in trouble.
“I’m sorry, kroshka,” he says almost immediately, but when you cock your head at him, he swallows, bowing his head a little as he corrects himself. “I mean, I’m sorry, moya koroleva.”
“Why are you sorry, shchenok?” You ask, stepping between his legs, placing a finger under his chin and tilting his head up so he can look at you.
“I was being a brat,” he admits, fully chastised. “I was a brat all weekend and I didn’t listen to you.”
You nod, dropping your hand and pulling down your shorts, taking notice of the way Andrei’s eyes linger over your bikini. His eyes track your movements, watching your deft fingers go to the ties on your bikini bottoms, undoing them before flinging the fabric off to the side.
“You were being a brat,” you agree, “and now you get to make it up to me.”
You move him so he’s lying down on the couch, and then help him out of his board shorts, tossing them in the same direction as your bikini bottoms. You dip two fingers between your folds, gathering the wetness that’s been blooming there for what feels like days, then bring them to his lips.
“Suck,” you instruct. And he does, lips circling your digits as he takes them in his mouth, sucking the tips where your wetness lies, groaning deep. His cock throbs at the taste of you on his tongue, the lingering hints of salt water and the very taste of your skin in general, and his mouth waters, instantly craving more.
You must be able to see it in his eyes, the need, the desire, the desperation. So you take pity on your precious shchenok, moving until you’re hovering right over his face. His pupils blow out wide as his skin flushes red with excitement. You raise a brow at him, knowing he’s done this enough with you that when he answers your unspoken question with a firm nod and opening his mouth and sticking out his tongue, you waste no further time in dropping down, putting your pussy right on that pretty pink tongue of his and grinding your hips.
His hands fly to your ass on impulse, circumstances of his punishment momentarily forgotten as he guides you along his face in the way he knows you love, the way he knows that you need while alternating between sucking your clit and licking between your folds. You allow his touch since he’s doing such a good job given that you’re already halfway there, and since you know he’s been craving this for a couple of days.
When your orgasm crashes through you, your thighs clench, back arching and a loud moan echoing out of your lungs. Andrei does his due diligence and holds you tight, keeps you pressed against his mouth until you’re no longer shaking from the aftershocks.
Slowly, you rise up from his mouth as his hands fall back to his sides, getting off of him and off of the couch to examine him and his handiwork. His mouth is shiny and wet, glistening with your release, and he’s staring at you, completely dazed and satisfied with himself. You dip your two fingers between your folds again, holding them out to him, and he takes them between his lips without another word.
He licks around your digits, sucking them, drawing enough spit that once your fingers are wet, you pull them from his mouth, spreading them around your pussy and wasting no further time in straddling him, positioning yourself right on his lap, trapping his cock between your bare cunt and his firm abdomen, grinding your hips along his shaft.
Andrei whines, every instinct in his body wanting to get his hands on your hips and guide you, but he knows he can’t touch you, not until you say so. So he keeps his hands to his sides, gritting his teeth and muttering out a string of “spasibo, moya koroleva,” over and over again.
His gratitude is music to your ears, and you moan, rubbing your bare pussy along his cock until he’s gripping the fabric of the couch in his fingers. You run your hands up his abdomen, scratching back down with your nails and reveling in the way he hisses “Spasibo moya koroleva,” between clenched teeth.
When red marks bloom on his belly, you drag your hands back up his chest, moving so one of your hands can put two fingers between his lips, and the other can lightly grip his throat. It’s not long before you can feel the orgasm starting to well up in your stomach.
“Do you want to come for me, shchenok?” You croon, leaning forward a little to press a kiss to his chin, nearly going cross eyes when the new angle puts the head of his cock against your clit when you grind forward. His cock is trapped beneath your belly and your pussy, and you feel it throb at your words.
Andrei nods profusely, noisily sucking on your fingers and moaning when you sit up, removing your fingers from his mouth so he can speak, the hand around his throat still soft but firm in their grip.
“Pozhaluysta moya koroleva, let me come.” He begs.
“Then earn it. Open,” you say, and Andrei’s eyes glaze over as he opens his mouth, tilting his chin up with a soft “ah” noise escaping his throat, vibrating against your palm. His hips buck involuntarily, but you allow it just this once, knowing he’ll need to come if he’s going to make it through the rest of the night unscathed.
Your nails dig into the side of his throat when you lean forward, letting spit drip off of your tongue and onto his, and you don’t even need to say anything before he’s closing his mouth and swallowing, then opening it again to show you. He looks so proud as he does it, too, eyes gleaming as he waits for your approval.
Your pussy clenches at the very sight, and your orgasm rushes toward the finish line.
“Very good my pretty shchenok,” you coo, grinding down harder against his cock, bending your head to press your lips to his in a chaste kiss. “Do you still want to come? Do you want to come with me?”
He nods vehemently, tacking on a desperate sounding, “Da, pozhaluysta.”
“Do it,” you command, winding your hips faster, spurred on by Andrei trying to subtly thrust along with you to get you both to orgasm.
It takes split seconds, and you come with a loud cry, Andrei moaning high and loud at witnessing your release. Your hips stutter, pussy dripping along his cock until the slide of your skin is too much, and then Andrei’s coming, fast and sudden, thick ropes of his come streaking across his belly.
You shuffle down his body once he’s spent, licking your come off of his cock, then licking his come off of his sea salt coated skin, pushing up to kiss him, sharing your mutual release as he moans into your mouth, hips bucking up and begging for more.
You pin his hip to the couch cushion with a firm hand, shaking your head and tsking at him as you pull away.
“That’s all you get for tonight, shchenok.” You say, climbing off of him. “That’s your punishment.”
He nods, watching your naked ass walk away from him, dazed and sated as he says “Da, moya koroleva, spasibo.”