Violets are Blue / Roses are Red / Brother you're Mine / So get in my Bed

[here_comes_the]

WHO: Mr. and Mrs. Ivan Braginsky
WHEN: ALL SATURDAY NIGHT LONG until Sunday morning (September 18/19th)
WHERE: Somewhere…comfortable.
WHAT: Anything Brother’s boyfriend can do, she can do better. Natalia demonstrates. Extensively.
RATING: A picture is worth a thousand words (nsfw, oh god, blame Brodie)

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[das_vedanya]

Cold, as if the very arms of death now embraced him. It was numb, colder than if her skin were made of ice, and capable of turning a Moscow snowstorm into the subtropical regions of the equator at high noon. Too cold for shivering, cold enough to shut off his lungs, freeze his voice box, make him incapable of moving. He could feel her fingernails through his shirt, which seemed thinner than paper as it skipped over the buttons and between the slits to caress his skin with an icy kiss. Even her fingernails were cold, her entire body was a frozen entity pressed against him like thick layer of frost. He wondered if the cuticles had absorbed the blood his numb skin could not feel being drawn

[here_comes_the]

“I decided to come home early, Brother.” The reason why hung heavily in the air, almost tangible enough to taste, but the silky tones of her voice were deceptively calm, and suggesting something entirely different than oh-so-slowly ripping out the innards of the man who dared touch her brother.

However pleasurable that might be, she had something better in mind.

It became all too apparent when her sharpened nails made a long, twisting path down down down - just barely passing the hem of the shirt and heading towards dangerous territory. Yet she only just grazed the front of his pants before surging up and under the shirt to loftily rest on his belt buckle.

“Something must be done, yes?”

[das_vedanya]

He could hear the reason why screaming in his mind almost as if she had actually said it. Like he was a marionette with strings attached to his limbs, he felt his body rise of its own accord in response to her grazing. No matter how softly her finger was against the thin material of his slacks, it still felt too rough. It didn't feel human.

And the petrification magnified by his marionette-like limbs had him responding to every movement with something that could be mistaken for gratification. When he felt her hands on his belt, however, his instantly fled to catch her's. Stop her.

No, something must not be done.

"Natalia, please! I-I need to go!"

[here_comes_the]

“You will stay here,” she asserted in a severe voice not often directed towards him; her manner would clearly brook no argument from him, conveniently appearing emergency or otherwise. No patient on the precipice of self-afflicted wounds or a room heater that her Brother frantically swore he left on in his office would stop her this time.

She wrapped her arms more tightly around him; one hand making its way back up to play with his scarf while the other firmly stayed on his belt - the thumb of that particular hand venturing down behind the top of his pants.

“Tonight, you are mine.”