Svetlana Galina Artemyeva | Светлана Артемьева (nemophilist) wrote in nevermore_logs, @ 2014-11-05 04:14:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | svetlana artemyeva |
WHO: Svetlana Artemyeva
WHAT: Just some sexy dreams
WHEN: Monday night
WHERE: Her bedroom
WARNINGS: Smuttynighttimes (This is terribly written, but I got a plotbunny at 4am, so sue me)
In her entire life so far, there was only one person who had ever been kind to Svetlana. It was hardly surprising that after over a year of living with Azrael and feigning marriage to him, Svetlana was developing feelings for him. He was just so kind to her, and he never raised a hand to her or had a harsh word to say. After so many months, Svetlana was getting better at pulling smiles out of him as well, even when Azrael had had a long and trying day. A part of Svetlana wanted to believe that just maybe those smiles were just for her, because he felt the same way she did.
And even if he didn't feel that way about her, in her dreams he always reciprocated.
Svetlana woke to strong arms wrapping around her from behind. It was still dark outside, and Svetlana smiled into her pillow as she whispered a sleepy, "you're late."
"Work. I came home to you as soon as I could. I though about you all day long."
Svetlana felt soft lips against her neck, kissing towards her shoulder. She turned in Azrael's grip so she could face him, pressing her naked body against his. When he kissed her, she moaned into his mouth. "I missed you," she hissed as he trailed kisses down her body.
Azrael didn't reply, instead he ran his hand along her inner thigh, higher and higher until-
Svetlana awoke, startled, her head reeling as she pulled herself out of the dream. With a groan, she threw an arm over her face. Oh god, she felt too hot and...wrong. Surely lusting after the angel in the next room was some kind of terrible sin. He was her husband, but he was also holy.
Breathing hard, Svetlana chewed on her lip for a moment before reaching under the covers and slipping her own fingers between her legs. She let out a little sigh at the pleasure, as she closed her eyes and tried to shut out how wrong this might be. She was nineteen, and head over heels in love. She had fought against the feelings long enough, it was too difficult now.
The fingers of her unoccupied hand ghosted against her nipples as Svetlana imagined it was Azrael above her. Her breathing quickened with the pace of her hand, her hips arching up and bucking as she neared climax.
With a fist in her mouth to keep herself quiet, Svetlana let pleasure overwhelm her. Then, feeling sated and incredibly guilty, she flopped against her pillows and started up at her ceiling.
She was the worst person in the entire world.