[Gaby's never been with a man like Illya Kuryakin. Her boyfriends back home were more like her, thin and dark, cautious and sharp-tongued. Maybe she sought them out because it was familiar, or maybe because she was eager to spite her mother from the grave. A toss up, honestly. They never lasted long, she always clashed too hard with them, or they cheated, or in one memorable instance they just up and disappeared and left nothing but a tossed flat and shattered records to remember him by. And really, the sex had never been this good.
Illya is wonderful, truly he is. She can overlook his birth for everything else he brings to the table. The man is beautiful, in a propaganda sort of way. He's more compassionate than anyone could expect of KGB's finest. He's patient when it matters and wonderfully impatient . He's gentle despite his size, despite the power she knows is ....And oh, that's the problem, isn't it? He's so gentle with her. It's not a bad thing, not usually, especially when she's the one using sheer force of will to press him into the carpet or whatever hotel bed they're flagrantly misusing. But there's times when it starts to wear on her, like he's afraid she'll shatter into a million pieces if he presses his fingers into her skin too hard. She's perfectly durable, thank you. Being shot at, thrown from cars, and manhandled regularly on the job proves it.
And really. Sometimes a girl needs her hair pulled.
Like tonight, for example. Extraction had been easy, but the base had been teeming with security absolutely no one on intel told them about. No one was shot (that mattered), but the stress and excitement of practically crawling through the halls to escape detection has Gaby wired and running on pure adrenaline. She doesn't even wait for the hotel room door to close before she's pulling him down to her level, pressing biting kisses into what skin she can reach.]
[ They have different ways of dealing with the rush and crash that inevitably follows when a mission is truly done with. Illya, through long years of necessity, has learned to temper his own reaction and take the downtime as it should be after the debrief. When he was younger, more rash, his handlers found themselves impressing upon him the importance of such control — often paired with a file detailing his psychological profile and a mention of Siberian gulags. So he learned quickly. He had to, and it became... If not easier, then routine to find somewhere to lay down and close his eyes and will his limbs not to twitch.
Now, of course, is different. New missions, new agency, new agents. Solo knows already but Gaby is still so very new, quiet bait no longer but an active agent, and would as likely spit on the notion of control as not. She is unafraid, unapologetic, unyielding — even in the face of someone twice her size who could snap her over his knee like a twig. It is how they have come to this, her force to be reckoned with proving him a slightly movable object, and this too is different.
He likes his women strong but Gaby could crush all of them under her heel.
Gaby has forgotten the door but Illya has not, one large hand shutting it behind them as the other covers the small of her back far too easily. Not for the first time he wonders where she finds this strength, trying to manhandle him for more access as he stoops down low to meet her. ]
If y- Only wait—
[ Her teeth are sharp against his skin, making his jaw drop, making his breath come in a hiss. This is not conducive to anything, to bend and scrape for every inch of contact, and so he fixes the problem. Smoothing a hand down her spine over the curve of her ass, it's nothing at all to lift her up against his chest as he stands straight again, and his now-free arm curls around her shoulders to hold her there. ]
Лучше.
[ His English is gruff at the best of times and easily forgotten at times like this, the Cyrillic clipped and lyrical all at once— Or it is until he can catch Gaby into a proper kiss as he carries her to the bed. ]
[What does it say about the two of them that Gaby relies on Illya, the documented unstable KGB operative, to be the more responsible one in this relationship? In the field she does her job, keeps the stupid risks to a minimum and listens to her superiors, but off the clock she lets the little details lag. She's not used to this life yet, really, still falls back on old impulsive habits and defiant behaviors that kept her singular and sane once the wall started going up. And maybe she'll never learn, if Illya keeps closing her doors and shutting her blinds and all manner of small things she barely notices until he says anything.
When she learns, she'll keep doing it. Keep him on his toes, make him realize he can't leave her alone with such bad habits, so he'll never go back to his severe apartment in his severe country with its severe weather.
Gaby goes into his arms with no fuss, curling her legs around her torso in something of a death grip. It's just so much easier like this- she can reach, and he doesn't have to bother with bending so long that his back hurts. Of course, she also loves it for how small it makes her feel. In his arms, she's so acutely aware just how big Illya is, how he isn't even breaking a sweat holding her up so she can abuse the softest spots along his neck. He could just throw her onto the bed if he wanted to.
Oh.]
Much better.
[She's not entirely sure what he said- her Russian is still weak, to Waverly's eternal chargrin- but it sounded affirmative, so she replies in kind. In English, because she hasn't quite gotten to the point of forgetting languages yet. She hopes she will, though. The kiss he presses into her mouth gives her a good head start on it, and even more to forget her own name. Her mouth opens to his easily, her teeth nibbling at his bottom lip.]
[ It says she is new. It says she is still learning, though not through any methodology his old superiors would approve of. Sink or swim is an English idiom but it translated easily enough. Any agent seen making the minor slips Gaby makes would likely be left to learn on their own, assuming they survived the lesson. Any agent caught covering such slack would be taught a harsher lesson. Weak weeded itself out; to delay that only weakened the rest. It made sense then and Kuryakin would've never bothered but—
Now is different. Now is Waverly who he hasn't caught bugging his quarters (yet), Solo whose cooking he's stopped checking for poison, and Gaby. ]
Is what I said,
[ he rumbles, accent harsh in his throat that prickles still from those nibbles, now sharp and insistent at his mouth as well. It causes him to slip, fingers digging into thin fabric and the soft skin underneath before he catches himself. Forces the hand to relax and smooth up over her hip as his tongue slips back over hers. His knee hits the edge of the bed, turning him around to sit with Gaby on his lap, still squeezed round his ribs as if to prove something. Even this is because of size — his arms long enough that he'd still loom above her on hands and knees. ]
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stunningepiphanies) wrote2016-11-09 12:37 am
what i've got you've got to get it put it in you
Illya is wonderful, truly he is. She can overlook his birth for everything else he brings to the table. The man is beautiful, in a propaganda sort of way. He's more compassionate than anyone could expect of KGB's finest. He's patient when it matters and wonderfully impatient . He's gentle despite his size, despite the power she knows is ....And oh, that's the problem, isn't it? He's so gentle with her. It's not a bad thing, not usually, especially when she's the one using sheer force of will to press him into the carpet or whatever hotel bed they're flagrantly misusing. But there's times when it starts to wear on her, like he's afraid she'll shatter into a million pieces if he presses his fingers into her skin too hard. She's perfectly durable, thank you. Being shot at, thrown from cars, and manhandled regularly on the job proves it.
And really. Sometimes a girl needs her hair pulled.
Like tonight, for example. Extraction had been easy, but the base had been teeming with security absolutely no one on intel told them about. No one was shot (that mattered), but the stress and excitement of practically crawling through the halls to escape detection has Gaby wired and running on pure adrenaline. She doesn't even wait for the hotel room door to close before she's pulling him down to her level, pressing biting kisses into what skin she can reach.]
Illya.
no subject
Now, of course, is different. New missions, new agency, new agents. Solo knows already but Gaby is still so very new, quiet bait no longer but an active agent, and would as likely spit on the notion of control as not. She is unafraid, unapologetic, unyielding — even in the face of someone twice her size who could snap her over his knee like a twig. It is how they have come to this, her force to be reckoned with proving him a slightly movable object, and this too is different.
He likes his women strong but Gaby could crush all of them under her heel.
Gaby has forgotten the door but Illya has not, one large hand shutting it behind them as the other covers the small of her back far too easily. Not for the first time he wonders where she finds this strength, trying to manhandle him for more access as he stoops down low to meet her. ]
If y- Only wait—
[ Her teeth are sharp against his skin, making his jaw drop, making his breath come in a hiss. This is not conducive to anything, to bend and scrape for every inch of contact, and so he fixes the problem. Smoothing a hand down her spine over the curve of her ass, it's nothing at all to lift her up against his chest as he stands straight again, and his now-free arm curls around her shoulders to hold her there. ]
Лучше.
[ His English is gruff at the best of times and easily forgotten at times like this, the Cyrillic clipped and lyrical all at once— Or it is until he can catch Gaby into a proper kiss as he carries her to the bed. ]
no subject
When she learns, she'll keep doing it. Keep him on his toes, make him realize he can't leave her alone with such bad habits, so he'll never go back to his severe apartment in his severe country with its severe weather.
Gaby goes into his arms with no fuss, curling her legs around her torso in something of a death grip. It's just so much easier like this- she can reach, and he doesn't have to bother with bending so long that his back hurts. Of course, she also loves it for how small it makes her feel. In his arms, she's so acutely aware just how big Illya is, how he isn't even breaking a sweat holding her up so she can abuse the softest spots along his neck. He could just throw her onto the bed if he wanted to.
Oh.]
Much better.
[She's not entirely sure what he said- her Russian is still weak, to Waverly's eternal chargrin- but it sounded affirmative, so she replies in kind. In English, because she hasn't quite gotten to the point of forgetting languages yet. She hopes she will, though. The kiss he presses into her mouth gives her a good head start on it, and even more to forget her own name. Her mouth opens to his easily, her teeth nibbling at his bottom lip.]
no subject
Now is different. Now is Waverly who he hasn't caught bugging his quarters (yet), Solo whose cooking he's stopped checking for poison, and Gaby. ]
Is what I said,
[ he rumbles, accent harsh in his throat that prickles still from those nibbles, now sharp and insistent at his mouth as well. It causes him to slip, fingers digging into thin fabric and the soft skin underneath before he catches himself. Forces the hand to relax and smooth up over her hip as his tongue slips back over hers. His knee hits the edge of the bed, turning him around to sit with Gaby on his lap, still squeezed round his ribs as if to prove something. Even this is because of size — his arms long enough that he'd still loom above her on hands and knees. ]