jianhuo | (no subject)

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molokov

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It's been too long, to the point of frustration, to the point where she's wondering if the years on the island have made her lose her touch. More than once Saffron has wondered if she should just give it up, if she just needs to admit to herself that she doesn't have the magic she once had out in the black that spurred her marks to be on her inside of ten minutes, as she'd told Mal once upon a time. She's never had to work this long to get what she wants.

She's been wondering, but tonight, it's like it's all finally sliding into place. She and Molokov have been together the better part of the afternoon, strolling in the park, enjoying a nice dinner, going out dancing. And now that evening's turning into night, she can feel it - that spark, that sense the time is right, the feeling she used to get back when she did this for a living that let her know all the pieces were falling together. Saffron's noticed the way he's been looking at her all night, the way he silently claims ownership by slipping an arm around her in public, by keeping her close as they dance.

She's holding her shoes in one hand as they move off to the side in the low-key club where they've been dancing. She's been making sure to stay close to him as much as possible, as if she can't stand to be too far away, and now she slips in beneath his arm, her own curling around his waist as she stands facing him, pleasantly buzzed. "It's getting warm in here, Alexander," she murmurs, nuzzling against his neck.

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"But of course," Molokov murmured into her ear once their kiss had ended. He wrapped his arms around her again and squeezed tightly before letting her go.

"I have wanted this too," he smiled, lightly touching her cheek. "So much more than I can say."

He turned and quickly went to his bedroom. A few minutes later, he returned with a pair of handcuffs. He dangled them playfully before Helen, inviting her to come claim them.

It isn't hard for Saffron to feign eagerness as she goes over to Molokov and takes the handcuffs from him, stretching up to kiss him as she does. "I think we should start with getting those clothes off you," she murmurs against his lips, her hand sliding up beneath his shirt.

"Have I mentioned that I like the way you think?" Molokov answered softly. He allowed himself to enjoy the feel of her hand against against his bare skin before kissing her slowly and taking a step back.

He smiled seductively at her and began to unbutton his shirt, one button at a time. He was anxious for more but this had been a long time in the making. Waiting a little longer would make it that much sweeter.

She watches him for a few moments, looking like she's having a hard time holding herself back, and once his shirt's unbuttoned Saffron surges forward, pushing him backward into his bedroom. Tossing the handcuffs on the bed, she slipped her hands into his open shirt, kissing him deeply as she pushed it back off his shoulders.

She's drawing it all out, deliberately so. The more urgently he wants her, the better the payoff will be.

Fiesty as well as breathtakingly stunning - truly, Helen had it all and Molokov felt so very fortunately all over again that he had found and claimed her first.

He twisted his fingers through her hug, tugging the curls gently as he shrugged out of his shirt. "Oh Helen," he murmured softly before kissing her back fiercely.

She responds to the kiss in kind, tossing his shirt to the side before slipping her hands between them and blindly starting to work on unfastening his trousers. She's so close she can taste it, and it's making it even easier for Saffron to feign eagerness as she opens her mouth to his and yanks unseeing on his pants and underwear to get them off.

Molokov sensed nothing but unbridled passion from Helen and as far as he was concerned, that was as it should be. This moment had been a long time in coming and was most certainly worth every moment of the waiting.

He lifted his hips to help make it easier for Helen to remove the pesky trousers and underwear. In truth, he could have pushed them off himself but he was far more concerned with running his hands down her back and pressing kisses to her shoulder.

She shoves downward, and once he's kicked the remainder of his clothing away, Saffron smiles. She wraps her arms around his waist, pressing her still-clad body fully against his naked one as she stretches up to kiss him.

"This is promising," she murmurs against his lips. "Lay down on the bed for me, honey. On your back."

"Anything for you," Molokov murmured after their kiss ended. He pressed against Helen for a moment, relishing the contrast between their bodies then obligingly rolled over on his back.

"I'm going to hold you to that, honey," Saffron replies, and once he's on the bed and lying on his back she leans over him to kiss him once, slow and deep. Then she takes his hands and lifts them above his head, handcuffing his wrists and securing them to the bed as well.

Slipping back off the bed, Saffron shimmies out of her dress in a flash, moving back to sit straddling Molokov once she's in just her bra and panties. "Tell me how much you want me," she murmurs, tilting her hips down against him and sucking in a breath in spite of herself at her body's reaction to the friction. "Tell me what you want to do to me, with me. In detail."

For a moment, Molokov regretted being handcuffed as this meant he couldn't run his hands all over Helen's voluptuous body but that was all right. He would surely get a chance in round two and if he was very lucky, he would get to use the handcuffs on her. Fair play and all of that.

He groaned as she straddled him, straining futilely against the handcuffs. "You ask me to talk when you tease me so? But I promised you anything and so I shall."

He paused for a moment to regain a little control of himself (and his English) then went on. "I want you so much. I need you. You are - oh, you are so beautiful and I want - I need to be inside you."

Leaning down, Saffron tilts her hips down against him one more time as she kisses him. She takes her time, tugging on his lower lip gently with her teeth as she pulls away.

"That's just what I wanted to hear, Alexander," she purrs as she straightens, smiling down at him as she sits straddling his lap. "And I have just two words for you."

A moment later her expression is completely different, moving from soft seduction to cold rage in a flash. There's nothing left of the sweet, adoring Helen in her eyes as she speaks slowly and deliberately.

"Anatoly Sergievsky."

She gives him a moment to let that sink in, then backhands him hard across the face.

Molokov heard those two words and froze, his arousal disappearing as rapidly as if he'd been doused with cold water. He had been conned. He had been expertly conned and he'd had absolutely no idea until this very moment.

He was filled with all-compassing rage but thanks to Helen's foresight he was cuffed and unable to wrap his hands around her throat.

His cheek stinging, he glared at her. So she knew Sergievsky - and had probably slept with him given his taste for women who were not his wife. This was trouble but he would find a way out.

Somehow.

"If you are angry at him, you should know there is a very long line. You are not the first whore he has fucked and left."

Saffron lets out a humorless laugh at Molokov's ridiculous response. "Oh, is that supposed to offend me, you calling me a whore?" she says with a smirk. "Nice try. Been there, done that. But I'm retired. And I never slept with Anatoly. This isn't about anything he did to me."

In the next moment she's got her hands around his throat, her weight leaned forward onto them. "This is about what you did to him. To my friend."

Edited 2013-11-12 02:54 (UTC)

If Molokov hadn't been so occupied with fighting for breath, he would have rolled his eyes. How Anatoly found people to be his champions, he would never know.

"I did nothing," he gasped. "I watched over him and was thanked poorly for it."

"Don't lie," Saffron hisses, still leaning on Molokov's throat. "Anatoly told me all about you being KGB, about how you...watched over him, as you put it. Watched over my ass."

Breathing was increasingly difficult and Molokov was coming to the painful realization that he was powerless. If there was a way out of this that would leave him alive, he would have to do what he hated most - telling the truth.

"It was my job," he hissed. "To watch over him. To keep him happy so he could play his stupid games."

There's a large part of Saffron that wants nothing more than to kill this man, slowly and painfully. She's got no qualms about the possibility in and of itself. But she's got a good life in Darrow, friends who mean a hell of a lot to her, and she knows most of those friends would look at her differently if she did this and was ever found out.

That means she's got to leave him alive, unfortunately.

Saffron keeps her hands locked on his throat until she can see he's nearing the point of a blackout, then releases him. "It was your job to torment him?" she says through her teeth, grabbing a handful of his hair on the top of his head and yanking down and back to force his chin upward. "If you think you're going to talk your way out of this, Alexander, think again."

He absolutely hated to admit it but whoever had taught Helen the fine arts of interrogation had done a remarkable job. He was almost envious, in fact.

"What do you want me to say?" Molokov hissed once his vision cleared and he could breath again. "That I despised him? That I hated to have my talents so wasted by looking after grown child? That he refused to appreciate all he was given?"

"I don't want you to say anything," Saffron replies. She won't kill him, but she can make him wish they'd never met. She's willing to bet that's what he's thinking already, but Saffron's always liked to leave an impression.

She releases his hair long enough to punch him square in the jaw, then takes hold of it again and forces his head back almost before he's had a chance to react to the punch. "I want you to suffer."

"But we cannot always get what we want," Molokov said in Russian, his head ringing too much to remember his English. In truth, he was wishing more than a little that he had seen through her, that he had never met her but well - there was nothing to do but endure what she gave him.

And he would, he was determined to. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction of breaking on top of all the other humiliations she had piled on.

He could last. Couldn't he?

"Oh, are we speaking different languages now?" Saffron says in Chinese, sliding back a little so she can land a punch to his ribs. "It doesn't matter. Speak Russian all you want. I wasn't interested in anything coming out of your mouth anyway."

Dimly, Molokov was aware that Helen had moved from English to some other language but he was not sure which one it was. The combination of the beating and the revelation that his sweet, mild-mannered Helen was anything but was taking a toll. He just wanted her to stop, to go away - but he very much had the feeling he was going to have to wait a long time for that.

"Don't worry," Saffron hisses as she rakes her nails across his chest. "I won't leave you with any permanent damage."

This, as far as she's concerned, has been a very long time coming. Not just for him - it's been a long while since Saffron had occasion to con someone, after being forced into retirement on the island. She's seething with anger, but she's enjoying this also. She deals him another blow to the face. "Probably."

If Molokov could speak, he would have found something biting and sarcastic to say but he was all out of words for the moment. His focus was just on getting through this, surviving Helen's rage. It was not the first time he had taken a beating, but it was the first time in a very long while that it had been delivered so expertly.