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“Please don't make me feel like I'm at the gynecologist.”
Stein hums against Marie’s cheek, pressing a kiss there. His fingers toy with the hem of her skirt, stroke along her soft thigh. “I promise I’ve warmed my hands up plenty,” he says, his other hand rucking up the front of her shirt. He reaches inside one cup of her bra and palms her breast before Marie flicks the clasp open. She leans forward and shrugs her shirt and bra off to give her fiancé more skin to touch, and he responds by bringing his hand on her thigh up to squeeze her other breast fondly.
“Nnn, don’t tease.”
“It’s not teasing.” He kisses the shell of her ear, but obliges by stroking over her stomach and back down to her thigh, hitching up her skirt ever so slightly. Through their reflections in the mirror, she can see his smirk. “I just want you to see yourself at your best.”
This all started because Marie had been curious. Curious, specifically, about the one word Stein seemed to mutter over and over while he was coming undone during sex. He tended to get multilingual when he got worked up, slipping into his native German but occasionally into Hebrew and something that sounded like German and Hebrew had a baby (Was it Yiddish? Probably). The word in question was Muschi. A cute word, obviously directed toward her, but she could never place what he meant by it. Not when he said it both with his face between her thighs and in the after when he brushed sweaty blond hair out of her eye. She finally thought to ask him about it last night when he was drumming his fingers along her side during their cuddling.
“It’s…ah…” My, his cheeks had turned the loveliest shade of pink then. “A rather informal term for your genitalia. Almost crude, actually.”
“It can’t be crude. It’s cute!” Marie had crooned. “Although I don’t get why.”
“Hmm?”
“Why Muschi? That seems like it should be used for something else, like a teddy bear or something.”
“I find it’s rather fitting. Have you seen yourself down there?”
Which had led to the revelation that no, Marie didn’t make it a habit of gazing at herself like that. The wheels had started turning behind Stein’s green eyes almost immediately after that, and she hadn’t been given any clues to what he was thinking other than his request for her to wear a shorter skirt the next day.
Which led them here, to Marie balanced on Stein’s lap on the end of their bed, a full-length mirror in front of them. Her skirt was little more than a ring hiked around her hips now, his thumb stroking her inner thigh and his nail just whispering over the fabric of her panties. Despite what he said earlier, he was an awful tease, but not for the sake of sadism. Not this time.
“Spread your legs,” he whispers, shoving his knees between hers for leverage. She complies, exposing the ever-growing dark spot on her panties and making her blush deeper. “Perfect.”
“No need to call me perfect. Marie is fine.”
She feels the muscles of his bare chest flex against her back, the stitches rub against her skin. His free hand grasps her jaw and turns her to the side to look her fully in the face, surprised by her humor.
“What? For all the God jokes you’ve made, that one was tame.”
“Ich liebe dich über alles,” Stein sighs and kisses her, winding his arm around her waist. Marie tries to twist around in his grasp, hoping for a closer kiss, but he keeps her torso firmly facing the mirror, dropping his hand back down to her panties to tease. She moans into his mouth, and he nips at her bottom lip for good measure. He does mean what he says, even if he can only comfortably say it in his mother tongue. In a way, that makes it more intimate.
He dips his hand into her panties and runs a finger along her folds, and she lolls her head back to his shoulder, panting.
“Franken, vänligen! Please!” she begs.
“Shhh,” he coaxes, circling her clit with his thumb and pushing his finger just barely inside her entrance. Marie rocks on his hand, aching for some kind of friction, but instead he continues to tease, his other hand squeezing her breast and toying with her nipple. She stutters out his name in fragments, her eye fluttering closed as she grinds her hips.
She hears a wet pop, and she snaps her eye open in time to see Stein take his sopping finger into his mouth and suckle it clean. Fuck, he knew what that did to her, and the half-lidded look he gives her the whole time is nearly enough to drive her to the edge. His lips are downright glistening when he finally draws his finger out.
“I think you’re more than ready,” he says with a lazy grin. “Care for a taste?”
“Yes, yes, please!” Marie cries, and Stein comes back around for another kiss. This time his thumb hooks around the waistband of her panties, meaning to pull them down. With his other hand, he cups her ass and lifts her gently off his lap, which has the added benefit of giving his hardness some relief from the pressure of being sat on. The fabric clings to her wetness for the briefest moment before coming away, and her panties fall from her ankles to the bedroom floor. She looks down to where her legs are spread, and Death, she wasn’t expecting it to be so…pretty.
“Labia majora,” Stein says, leaning back so Marie can get a better view. He slips a hand back between her thighs again, doing his best to keep out of the way, and strokes two fingers along her folds. “Very engorged due to enhanced blood flow.”
“Is this an anato—ohhh!—my lesson?” Marie moans, an eyebrow raised.
“You said you’ve never seen yourself before. I thought I’d give you a guided tour.” Stein presses a kiss to her temple and moves on. “Clitoris, under the clitoral hood. My personal favorite.”
“You have a favorite part of my vagina?”
“Technically this is still the vulva, but yes. Every organ in the human body serves its purpose, and this one’s only function is to give you sexual pleasure.” He pinches her clit experimentally, and she squeals from the touch, growing wetter. “Over eight thousand nerve endings collected in a space the size of a pea. And highly sensitive to touch.”
Stein rubs his thumb over her clit a few times to ease the sting, and Marie relaxes under his capable hand. Death, he was good. He was very, very good. “You like anything that makes me scream your name,” she manages to quip.
She feels him shrug behind her, but the twitching in his pants indicates something other than indifference. Marie smirks and wiggles her ass on his lap, and Stein hisses, drawing his lip between his teeth.
“L-labia minora,” he continues once he regains some composure, though his voice is strained. Marie is getting to him, and quickly: she can feel his wavelength stutter the longer he holds out on his own pleasure. The resonance between them is expanding—the faintest crackle of electricity tickles at Marie’s ears.
“Stein,” she whines as he circles her opening again.
“Vaginal opening,” he finishes hurriedly, dipping a finger into her and making her cry out in satisfaction. A second finger quickly follows, and he pumps at an achingly slow pace in and out of her. He brushes her hair over one shoulder to suck at her pulse, worrying the skin of her neck between his teeth. Her orgasm is a fiery coil in her belly, begging for release, and he’s more than happy to oblige. His palm dampens as she squirts, his name coming out as little more than whimpers mixed in with random bits of Swedish.
“Franken—oh fuck—Franken!”
He hums against her neck, his other hand grabbing her jaw and forcing her to tilt her head forward so she could watch herself come undone. Marie’s eye was so expressive during sex, the usual molten gold of her iris almost giving way completely to black due to her arousal. She locks onto her reflection as if hypnotized, taking in how Stein was working his fingers in and out of her at a brutal pace and the hazy marks he was leaving on her neck. It was too much, all too much, and she came, screaming his name so loudly the neighbors would have definitely heard if they’d had any neighbors.
She expects him to let her off of his lap, perhaps spin her around so they could continue on the bed. Her inner thighs are starting to ache from the strain of staying open for so long, but soon his hand floats down from her jaw and starts to massage her plush skin, humming against her shoulder.
“Look at you,” he smiles at their reflection. “Flushed. Pink. Puffy. Beautiful.”
Marie is damn near ready to burst into tears, because when had any of her past boyfriends ever done anything like this for her? There had been a whopping total of two who’d even been willing to touch her down there with anything besides their dick (Joe being one of them), and only then after a great deal of convincing on her end. Now she had a fiancé who was willing to set her on his lap and literally show her off in front of a mirror. Why had she gone without this kind of attention and care for so long? She blinks back the wetness at the corner of her eye, bringing a hand out to grasp at Stein’s hand that’s sprawled on her stomach and thread their fingers together.
“I think they call it snippa in your mother tongue,” he murmurs, tapping her labia lightly with his other hand. “Or maybe it’s mus.”
“Both are right.”
“Mm? Good. It’s been a while since I brushed up on my Swedish pillow talk.” Which was complete and utter bullshit. Last week after a few glasses of wine, he managed to give a detailed account of what he’d like to do to her that was so filthy she was still blushing in the morning at breakfast.
“They call it pizda in Russian.” His thumb had found its way back to her clit, stroking it the way other people might stroke their chin while thinking. Marie moans as his breath tickles the shell of her ear and he kisses there with a ghost of a touch.
“D-do they now?”
“Mmhm. Shmundie in Yiddish.” Stein kisses down to her neck, licking over a mark he made earlier. “Not a language known for sensuality, but—”
“Franken, please! You tease so much!” Marie cries out.
“Only to please you and your Muschi the best way possible.” He squeezes her hand that’s still clasped on her stomach. “Now, you have a few choices, liebling. Tell me what you want.”
“Oh?”
“Willst du, dass ich dich schmecke? Or maybe use my fingers instead?” He strokes her clit just the littlest bit faster.
“Actually,” Marie replies, reaching behind her and palming his hardness. “I want that. Whatever it’s called in German.”
Stein chuckles. “Sadly, it’s just Dick. Or Schwanz, if you prefer. Not nearly as cute as Muschi.”
They end up switching positions so she is on top, watching her reflection bounce on Stein’s hips as he lies spread-eagle on the bed below her. She almost has to laugh at his upside-down smirk as he hangs off the edge of the bed, but when his face twists up in orgasmic delight because of her? She can’t help but fall over with him.