Fandom: Vorkosigan Saga

Ship: Dono Vorrutyer/Olivia Koudelka

Rating: Explicit

Wordcount: 1,450

Even if one felt inclined to do so, they could not rightly accuse Dono of being a man of his word. He wasn't and he had no compunction about admitting it, but he had meant what he said about arriving a virgin to his wedding night. It was unfortunate, then—in that way and no other—that his fiancée had turned out to be insatiable.

"Fuck me," said Olivia, apparently regaining her verbal faculties not two minutes after her second orgasm of the afternoon. She grasped at Dono's shoulders, her voice betraying a breathless laugh. "I want you in me, Dono, fuck me, fuck me—"

No question, then, of what was to be done. Dono disentangled himself from her legs and crawled up the bed until he was propped over her, hands on the mattress beside her shoulders, knees straddling her thighs. He kissed her hard and said, "As milady wishes."

Olivia grinned goofily at him and lay back luxuriously as Dono, uncharacteristically impatient at this point in this proceedings, unbuttoned his fly and shoved his trousers and shorts down his thighs. He took himself in one hand and held Olivia's leg with the other, and guided himself, perhaps a bit hastily, inside.

They both gasped at the sensation. It was, Dono thought, both like and unlike having one's clitoris sucked: warm and wet, delicious friction, but the position and angles were wholly different, not to mention the size and relative sensitivity of the appendages involved. The whole experience culminated in his dropping his head so that his forehead rested between Olivia's breasts, stifling a groan all the while.

"Oh, fuck," Olivia said, sounding a little overwhelmed and thoroughly pleased. Dono couldn't help but agree. She put one hand in his hair, stroking her fingers through it. "All right, love?"

Dono exhaled a little laugh of his own. He hadn't felt this new to sex, this unpracticed and overtaken by the sensations of it, since his own teenagerhood. He couldn't say he had missed it, necessarily, but then, he'd never had a partner like Olivia to experience that newness with. "Never better," he told her, punctuating it with a kiss to her sternum, and began to move.

It was... strange, to experience such a familiar act from the other side, almost like a doubling of one's vision. Olivia, beneath him, with those strong thighs wrapped around his waist, clutching at his shoulder with one hand and bracing the other against the headboard above her, was the image of a young Dono himself: still new to marriage, still trying to give off the impression that he loved to have an older man pant, red-faced, above him. Still trying to be the consummate young Vor lady, demure in public and wildly aroused by her—his—bore of a husband in private.

Dono pressed another kiss to Olivia's skin, this time her shoulder, and tried to read her expression. She didn't seem to be playacting; her eyes were closed, but she breathed heavily, and her fingernails were digging deeply into the skin of Dono's shoulder. A further promising sign was the unsubtle movement of her body, rocking down to meet each thrust of his hips—Dono had never bothered doing that. And when he changed up his pace slightly, she gasped and made a darling sound, a little oh that seemed un-self-conscious and unforced to his practiced ears. Still, he thought, she could simply be a better actress than he.

And he had better stop thinking along those lines, lest his new parts fail him in his moment of need.

Before he was even fully conscious of having decided to do so, Dono stopped and pulled out. Olivia blinked her eyes open, consternation plain across her face, but the first thing she said was, "What's wrong?"

I don't deserve her, he thought, startled. No one had ever asked him that before, not in bed. "Mm, I thought we might switch up the position," he said. "Have you ever thought about riding me?"

A slow grin spread over Olivia's face. "You know that I have," she said, though he knew no such thing. She pushed him away gently so they could rearrange themselves, and once they had done so, he found himself seated at the head of the bed with Olivia kneeling over him. It exaggerated their height difference considerably, she a blonde goddess about to have her way with her diminutive, lordly fiancé, and—interestingly enough—Dono soon found his cock standing at full attention once more. She dipped her head to kiss him, he tilted his to meet her, and, reaching between her legs to feel for his cock, she guided herself down onto him.

"Oh," Olivia said, louder than before, and kissed him again. She grasped the headboard with both hands and tried an experimental swivel of her hips; she gasped and clenched around him, he gasped and gripped her waist, and the both of them found themselves laughing.

"Good, I take it?" Dono asked. Olivia rolled her eyes at him, fondness plain on her lovely face.

"It was good before," she said, "but this is definitely also good. Hmm. Possibly better." This was underscored when she began to move again, less the showy bounce one might expect and more a determined rocking of her hips. Her eyes fluttered briefly shut; then, as Dono watched, she determinedly opened them again, fixing her gaze on his face.

It was shockingly intimate. Dono had had far more athletic sex in his life, with his husbands and with various young things who came to his bedroom looking to please, usually involving far less orthodox positions than this—but something about Olivia towering over him, her eyes never moving from his, took his breath away. He didn't think he could blame it on the newness of the sensations, but he wasn't certain whether it was an effect of the difference in size between them, or simply the fact of fucking someone for whom one cared beyond the immediate act. Perhaps some combination of both.

Whatever it was, Dono gave in to the impulse to slide one hand into Olivia's unruly hair and pull her down into another kiss, tilting his head back and arranging his posture to let her take control. Olivia responded enthusiastically, pressing messy kisses to mouth as she fucked him, moving one hand from its position on the headboard to cup Dono's jaw so she could angle him the way she liked. Dono suppressed what promised to be a thoroughly embarrassing groan and let her have her way.

It didn't take long, after that, for Olivia to come again. Her kisses quickly became sloppier, punctuated by little noises that sounded thoroughly involuntary and that traveled straight from Dono's ears to his cock. Eager to hear more of them, he cupped one of her breasts in his hand, then rubbed his thumb roughly over the nipple; in response, Olivia groaned into his mouth and clenched her fingers almost painfully against his skin. He bit playfully at her bottom lip; she gasped and shifted over him, fucking him harder. Finally, he worked a hand between them and thumbed at her clit. Her kisses by this time were hard and open-mouthed, all tongue and teeth with little finesse, and after a few firm strokes between her legs she made a helpless little sound and came shuddering against him.

Dono held her through it, bracing her hips as she clenched involuntarily around him. He couldn't recall having ever found a partner's face during orgasm to be attractive, but her expression in that moment was something to behold.

At length Olivia stopped shaking and, still panting, kissed him soundly. She smiled against his lips—another sensation he was not, in fact, certain he'd ever experienced before, and one that he found did odd things to his heart—and began to move against him again, a little more slowly now that she wasn't focused on her own orgasm, but still determined as ever. A quick stroke of her thumb against his jaw and then she released it, finding his hand at her waist with hers. She covered it with her own, still kissing him insistently, and, with little warning, Dono came.

When he returned to full awareness, Olivia had stilled, and their foreheads were pressed together. Seeing his eyes open, hers crinkled at the corners, and she kissed him one last time before easing off and collapsing onto the bed.

"Well," she said. Her voice sounded tired and happy. "That was nice."

Dono reached over and stroked a hand through her hair, smoothing down one rogue curl. "It was," he agreed. There was no other word for it.