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Anatoly's wife is shockingly beautiful.
In all these years he's never mentioned that.
In all these years he's never had much to say about her.
But looking at those wild, dark eyes, those features impossibly perfect even in her rage, Florence has no idea how.
And when Anatoly insists he'd let her die for Florence's happiness, she understands too many things all at once.
She loves him.
But it makes her feel sick to look at him.
She refuses to go home until she hears Svetlana is safe.
She bargains her way onto a later flight.
She sits alongside Anatoly when permitted.
She's no longer anything but his second.
But she's never withdrawn from a game in her life. She'll stay until this is done.
"You'll want to say goodbye to him." Svetlana presses a hotel room key into her hand.
Florence books her own room there, for simplicity's sake. She gets her father (her "father," whoever this man is) settled and he falls asleep before the sun is fully gone. She wonders how long it's been since he's slept in a bed. But there's no sense in dwelling on the past.
Svetlana is the one who opens the door when Florence knocks (she has the key but it feels wrong to just walk into a married couple's bedroom), and her eyes are cold and hard.
Florence imagines she looks much the same.
But she greets her politely.
She feels suddenly shy when Anatoly makes eye contact, but she lets him take her hands in his.
She wants to sob. She wants to throw herself into his arms like she'd longed to do on so many long dark nights.
But that part is over.
She had so many scathing comments prepared.
Instead, she presses her tongue to the roof of her mouth to hold back her tears.
He bends to kiss her and she startles, taking a step back.
Svetlana is watching them with cool, disdainful eyes.
"Is this not what you're here for?"
"No. I thought - "
What had she thought? At this hour, in their hotel room?
He leans in again, and this time she lets him.
"Isn't this your time to..." she glances between them. "Reconcile?"
"There's time for that later." Svetlana remains inscrutable. "This is for closure."
Anatoly doesn't seem to be listening. He's kissing Florence's neck, and it's hard to concentrate.
"I'm not living the rest of my life with him pining for you." Her laugh is harsh.
She steps back. She can only think of one possible way to get the upper hand.
"You'll join us, then?"
Svetlana smirks. Anatoly stares. Florence lifts her chin and stares back.
"She's very beautiful, Anatoly." She speaks with measured nonchalance, purring in his ear, caressing his chest.
His eyes look a little unfocused and she sees her opening.
If she does this well - and she will - they'll both spend their lives together thinking of her.
Despite everything, her eyes overflow with tears when Anatoly thrusts into her. He feels so good inside her, she feels so safe under him. He makes her come with practiced ease, but she holds him down on top of her, savoring his weight, the softness of that teddy bear belly, the protection of his muscled arms.
"My Florence. How I love you." He breathes the words into her ear as he nuzzles into her neck.
"I love you." She speaks softly, so only he can hear.
She hugs him, with all her strength.
And lets him go.
Svetlana has her eyes politely averted, but she turns when Anatoly takes her hand, drawing it to his lips.
"Your turn, my beloved."
Svetlana steps out of her negligee, reaching out to Anatoly for balance. Her eyes are wide as she bares herself to him, for what Florence guesses is the first time since their reunion.
She's beautiful in her overwhelm, and Florence feels a stab of desire despite herself.
Anatoly caresses between her legs and she moans softly, spreading herself open.
"Yes?" His voice is throaty. Florence knows the sound well.
"Yes," she gasps, and he positions himself.
He thrusts into her and she cries out sharply, eyes pained and wet. Anatoly pauses and Florence sees her opportunity.
"Brute," she snaps, taking Svetlana's hand in hers. "Be gentle with her." She caresses Svetlana's face. "How long have you been waiting?"
"I have been faithful." She speaks though gritted teeth, looking into Anatoly's eyes.
"You poor thing," she murmurs, brushing Svetlana's hair back from her face. She gives Anatoly a scathing looks, flicking her eyes back to Svetlana to make sure she's seen.
He looks contrite, but also thoroughly bewildered that Florence has turned on him.
Anatoly is brilliant in so many ways. This isn't one of them.
"I'll open you up for him, all right?" Florence tangles her fingers with Svetlana's. "I'll make you feel good."
She kisses her softly, worrying her lower lip tenderly between her teeth. Svetlana mews in response, opening her mouth, letting Florence devour her.
It's not at all what she expected from this formidable woman, but if she really hasn't been touched in all these years...well, Florence supposes she can't blame her.
She lightly cups her hand between Svetlana's thighs.
"Can I kiss you here?"
Svetlana just moans. She's pretty sure she just heard Anatoly make an absolutely ridiculous noise behind her as well, and she wishes she could turn to look at him. But Svetlana is smart enough to notice if she does, and she can't risk it.
Florence gazes into Svetlana's eyes instead, pressing their foreheads together.
"It's all right," she says softly, kissing her before settling between her parted thighs. "You're beautiful," she sighs, leaning in to press a soft kiss before taking a long, slow lick. Svetlana whimpers and Florence smiles into her. She traces Svetlana's entrance with her tongue, soothing where it's been stretched too hard, too fast, She can taste a spot where the skin is raw and feels a flash of annoyance. Anatoly should know better.
It isn't that she particularly cares for Svetlana's comfort, of course, but when one is entrusted with a fine work of art, it's expected that you'll care for it as it deserves.
She doesn't have much experience with this, but she has some, and it doesn't seem all that complicated.
Svetlana is gasping out words Florence never learned, and she switches to using her fingers for a moment to ask Anatoly what she's saying.
His eyes are glazed over and barely focused, but he manages to choke out a stream of filth that might make Florence blush under other circumstances.
But right now she just feels smug.
Florence lowers her head again, flicks her tongue hard and fast where Anatoly has assured her she's begging for it, and Svetlana comes undone, heels digging into Florence's back, that sultry voice reduced to pretty little whimpers and gasps.
Florence switches to using her fingers again, using her free hand to wipe her mouth. "Good?" she says softly, and Svetlana looks at her wide-eyed. "Good," she sighs. Florence leans over and kisses her, coaxing her to taste of herself. Svetlana is so tractable, so eager, nothing like Florence expected from her collected, icy exterior. Florence strokes her head and murmurs the Russian sweet nothings she's learned from Anatoly over the years.
"Anatoly." She jerks her head, indicating for him to sit by her. "Come here and make love to your wife." She huffs. "Or help me do it, at least."
She kisses Svetlana again, nuzzles her playfully. Svetlana barely registers Anatoly's presence. Her eyes are only on Florence.
Perfect.
"Touch her." Florence is starting to get annoyed. He really shouldn't be making it so easy for her. Anatoly shakes his head briskly and jumps to attention, moving to sit behind Svetlana, wrapping his arms around her. He cups her breasts, teases her nipples, and she sighs, nearly purring.
Florence teases one finger into her and it slips in easily.
"Can you take another?" Svetlana nods, licking her lips, and lets out a little groan as Florence pushes into her, pressing her thumb down just there - she hasn't learned the Russian word for that, maybe she ought to at this rate. "So tight," she murmurs. "Oh, Anatoly, she feels exquisite."
She's goading him, but it's also true.
Svetlana is writhing now, lifting her hips to meet her strokes, and Florence murmurs her encouragement.
"You're doing so well. One more." Svetlana just moans in response and Florence laughs. She's careful to enter her slowly, letting her stretch. Svetlana lets out a little grunt of discomfort, eyes watering. She's so tight Florence can barely move, she's so hot, so velvety hot, so fucking wet Florence feels a litle weak.
Anatoly is an absolute idiot for leaving her to rot.
"Fuck me," Svetlana gasps, snapping Florence back into herself. Florence looks at her. "Florence, please, fuck me." Florence nods and roughly pushes her fingers all the way inside her.
"Am I hurting you?" Florence pauses.
"Yes."
But she's moving harder, faster, tightly gripping Florence's wrist as she rides her fingers until she clenches, vicelike, around her. Florence carefuly eases out of her and twines her sticky fingers into Svetlana's.
Svetlana smiles up at her and Florence's heart stutters just a little.
Shit.
She lightly kisses Svetlana on the mouth. "Are you ready?" Svetlana nods dreamily and Anatoly eagerly takes Florence's place. It seems uncouth to watch them, his hands and mouth feasting on her, and she averts her gaze.
Until she feels Svetlana take her hand.
She comes back to Earth and watches Anatoly climb on top of her.
She's gazing into Svetlana's face as Anatoly penetrates her.
Her ecstatic gasp sends a lightning bolt through Florence.
She didn't expect to enjoy this, watching the man she loves take his wife with the tenderness and passion that are supposed to belong to her and her alone -
But Anatoly's body is so beautifully sculpted, and watching his muscles and tendons push and pull as he moves inside and around his wife makes her squirm.
But Svetlana is otherworldly in her loveliness, and her moans and sighs are making Florence absolutely drenched.
She curls her hands into fists to keep them to herself.
She recognizes how close Anatoly is, and the urge to push her fingers inside him, make him drive into Svetlana like a man possessed, is suffocating.
She'll miss so much about him.
(She should've brought other women home to him before. She didn't know how much she'd enjoy this.)
(But oh god seeing that beautiful body of his in action, she hadn't even thought about how it would look, that perfectly chiseled cock dripping with another woman's need for him.)
(She'd thought she'd be jealous, and maybe if it were someone else she would be, but Svetlana is his and he is Svetlana's, just as much as he and Florence ever belonged to each other, and they are beautiful together.)
Anatoly shudders, cries out and pours into Svetlana. Florence can see him twitching and throbbing. She can see his come dripping out of her around his cock..
She's jealous of someone, but she isn't quite sure whom.
A frustrated little whine escapes her before she can stop herself, and Svetlana grins at her, feline and threatening. Florence can practically see the yellow feathers around her mouth.
All at once, Florence understands.
She had started this game with her king already toppled, the queen standing alone.
"I think someone's a little jealous, Tolya." Her tone is light, amused.
"I'm not jealous," Florence spits, knowing exactly how juvenile she sounds. Svetlana just smirks.
"I need to clean up, but then we'll take care of you. All right?"
Despite herself, Florence melts into Svetlana's hand when she lightly touches her cheek.
Anatoly chuckles once they're alone, and Florence rolls her eyes.
"She likes you."
Florence snorts. But she lets him pull her against him, soaking in his warmth.
"She does. I've seen how she treats people she doesn't like." He pauses. "I've seen how she fucks people she doesn't like."
Florence badly wishes they had time for him to tell her that story.
She wishes they had more time.
He continues, oblivious.
"We haven't always been good to each other. But I know her so well."
"It's a shame that this ends tonight."
Because Florence thinks she could like her, too.
Anatoly hums in agreement, running his hand over her hip, pulling her closer. Florence shuts her eyes, breathing him in.
She'll miss falling asleep like this. She hates being needy, doesn't ask for it often, but he always lets her.
"Did you start without me?" Svetlana clicks her tongue disapprovingly and Anatoly laughs.
She'll miss his laugh.
Florence doesn't say anything, just lets their hands push and pull her into position.
She's long harbored a hypothesis that genius attracts genius, and she hasn't known Svetlana for long, but just having met her, she thinks it's a bona fide theory by now.
And when it comes to touching her, Svetlana is a fucking savant.
She's lost interest in the game, the ending is already written, she doesn't care who's winning, she can't win and god she just wants to come.
Anatoly has had four years to learn her body, but Svetlana somehow just knows. She sucks on the pulse point on her neck, the spot that makes Florence's breath catch. She tips Florence's head back and licks along her throat, and Florence trembles, heart pounding, feeling exposed in a way that makes her throb. Svetlana bites the delicate skin of her inner wrist and Florence feels it as a sharp jolt between her thighs. She presses a quick kiss to the back of Florence's knee, making her shiver.
And she lowers her head between Florence's legs, and Florence's entire body jolts, twisting away from the contact. Svetlana moves with her, fingers digging into her thighs, scraping lightly with her teeth, and Florence's hips jerk up involuntarily, and it's fucking humiliating to be so desperate in front of this woman, but she's twisting up inside, she needs, she isn't sure what but something, more, or maybe less, she doesn't know, she's getting lightheaded -
She feels Svetlana's tongue inside her and she flushes; her vision starts to swim. Her breath is coming in ragged, uneven gasps and her stomach is knotting and she thinks she might be dying right here and now -
And thank God, thank God for Anatoly, who sees her face and immediately knows.
Anatoly, who knows her, who knows when to stop, who will stop.
Anatoly, who's never been so desperate in his desire for her that he hasn't taken the time to prepare her.
Anatoly, who wants Svetlana so badly he can't control himself.
He lightly taps the top of Svetlana's head. "Sveta, let her breathe."
Svetlana grumbles, but obliges. "Look at her," she coos, petting Florence's head. "Like a virgin on her wedding night."
Florence glares at her, but Svetlana's little grin doesn't wobble. "You're so cute. He's right, you know." Svetlana brushes her lips against Florence's ear. "I like you."
Florence whimpers, and immediately hates herself for it. Svetlana laughs. She lightly strokes Florence's inner thigh, and Florence shivers. She teases Florence open with her fingers. "You're so ready for me, aren't you?"
Florence nods, biting down on the inside of her cheek.
"Cat got your tongue?" Svetlana circles her fingertips. Florence gasps despite herself, and Svetlana leans in to kiss her. "Tell me what you want."
Florence has never been shy a day in her life, but suddenly, she doesn't know how to ask.
"It's okay." Svetlana drops the smirk, and the softness in her eyes feels genuine. Though Florence doesn't know what to trust anymore. "No more games, little one."
Florence has never understood Freddie's desire to be called such silly baby names, and she'd have slapped him or Anatoly if they'd dared try, but suddenly it's exactly what she wants.
Though she'd really let Svetlana do anything she wanted at this point.
She exhales and her body falls loose, legs splaying carelessly open.
"Svetlana." Her voice comes out in a whine. "I - "
"Darling girl, only strangers use the full name." Svetlana kisses the corner of her mouth. "The people I like call me Sveta."
"Sveta," Florence sighs, and oh she wants, she isn't sure what, but she wants.
"Florence," Svetlana murmurs, "Florence."
She lowers her head between Florence's legs once more, and Florence claws at the sheets, trying to force herself still.
"Oh God. Oh God."
Svetlana is maddeningly slow in her movements, and Florence's inchoate need feels like hot lead surging through her body.
"Sveta, please." She chokes on her words as Svetlana sucks at a spot that makes her legs shake.
"Patience." Svetlana squeezes her thigh.
"No," Florence huffs, and Svetlana laughs.
"Is she always like this, Tolya?"
Florence had forgotten he was even in the room.
"Always," he assures her.
Florence wants to argue, but if she opens her mouth, all she'll do is beg.
Her stomach feels heavy and warm, and she can feel something steadily building, and fucking Svetlana is holding her down with an arm across her belly so she can't grind up against her like she wants and she just needs a little more pressure...
Her thighs start to tremble again, that heavy molten heat surges inside her, and it feels like it's building forever, and she follows that feeling, up, up, up -
Until the wave finally, fucking finally breaks.
She clenches desperately around nothing; the emptiness aches, and somehow Svetlana knows yet again and pushes two fingers deep into her.
Florence can't tell if she's whispering or screaming, or what the words are. She can't hear, she can't process, all she can do is feel.
She doesn't realize she's crying until her body stills, everything suddenly heavy and loose and she can barely move. She can't feel her body. She is just warmth and a bone-deep satisfaction she hasn't felt in years.
Svetlana kisses her cheeks where tears have stained them, fingers still moving inside her, barely perceptible but rhythmic, grounding.
Florence has the absurd, humiliating impulse to tell her she loves her.
She sits up and presses her forehead into Svetlana's shoulder instead, laughing at her own ridiculousness, shaking with giggles and tears in equal measures. Svetlana braces her with one arm around her shoulders, fingers still tenderly stroking her inside.
"Dont stop."
"So bossy," she murmurs against the crown of her head, setting Florence off giggling again. She feels champagne-drunk and lightheaded. "But you're so cute. I wouldn't dream of it."
Florence moans softly, gently biting down on her shoulder as she hits a spot that makes her entire body shudder.
"More - please, Sveta, please - "
"That's better. Good girl."
Fuck, why does she have to say it like that?
But Svetlana keeps touching her there. And she doesn't ever want it to stop.
And she doesn't stop; she thrusts her fingers, deeper, faster, more forcefully, and Florence feels like she's boiling over until she absolutely gushes around Svetlana's fingers as she comes. She splutters apologies, and Svetlana silences her with a kiss.
She yawns and fights the urge to let herself drift off just for a moment. If she falls asleep, she'll never leave. Not tonight, maybe not ever.
And all too soon she knows her time has come.
She dresses, suddenly awkward, not sure where to look.
Tears start to fall again, but she's too spent to be embarrassed. Her chest aches with what she's missing already.
Svetlana takes both of her hands in her own. Florence is surprised to see that her eyes are wet.
"We'll never forget what you've done for us." She presses a kiss to the back of her hand, to the inside of her wrist. "Both of us will love you for as long as we live."
Anatoly has never been much with words, and Florence isn't surprised when he simply crushes her to his chest. She giggles wetly despite herself when she feels his hard cock pressing into her hip. At least that will be left in good hands.
"I love you." It comes out a sob. She knows she has to open her arms, and walk away from him, for good this time.
Svetlana walks with her out the door. Florence hears it shut as she steps into the elevator.
Her legs barely hold her even on the short walk back to her room.
She's planned to shower, but all she can think of is the sweet oblivion of sleep. It can't come soon enough.