The Season of the Witch — Kurt x Baba Yaga (Rated E - Explicit)
Summary: After the events of Infinity War, Kurt's childhood nightmares start up again. One night, he receives a visit from the very thing he fears, but he finds that perhaps she is everything he never knew he needed.
A/N: As you all know, I am a HUGE supporter of Baba Yaga from the Marvel Comics making her MCU debut and her becoming Kurt's powerful hot Russian witch gf (David Dastmalchian supports it too but I digress). In any case, I HAD TO WRITE THIS BECAUSE HE DESERVES TO FUCK THIS RUSSIAN GODDESS. Please read the warnings because Kurt is definitely a slut for her in this. (Also, please forgive any mistakes I made when writing the Russian language. I tried my best). This is really bad and I'm sorry.
WARNINGS, PLEASE READ: Magical sex, worship/goddess kink, Dom!Baba Yaga, Sub!Kurt, slight mommy kink, rough sex, slight choking, assisted masturbation, voyeurism (blink and you miss it), praise kink, prolonged orgasm
Kurt awoke in a cold sweat, his hands clutching his pillow to his chest. The echoes of a nightmare dissipated before he could even grasp at the memory of what he had dreamed. He sighed and pressed his hands to his face as his thudding heart eased. Kurt reached over to his phone on his bedstand. He squinted at the brightness when he picked up the phone and read the time: 3:00 am exactly.
Koldovskoy chas, he remembered his grandmother warning him as a small child. The witching hour.
Kurt knew he would not be falling asleep again anytime soon, so he sat up and swung his legs over the side of his bed. He stood and stretched, his back popping comfortably. He then padded to his kitchen area and opened his fridge. He reached for his prize: vodka. Forgoing a shot glass, he brought the entire bottle to his kitchen table and sat heavily in the lone chair. Kurt unscrewed the cap and brought the bottle to his lips. The cold, bitter alcohol tumbled past his lips and burned his throat going down. As the liquid warmed his belly, he felt himself relax slightly. He had not had a good night’s sleep since the Blip.
When the Blip happened, Kurt, Luis, and Dave were at X-Con’s office. Scott was with Hope and her parents as they assisted the ghost girl by going to the quantum realm once again. If he was being completely honest, Kurt did not fully understand the ins and outs of quantum stuff, but he was happy to support Scott from afar.
In any case, on the day of the Blip, the other three members of X-Con were working, but the news was on in the background. The anchor was reporting on extraterrestrial anomalies that had occurred in New York City and Edinburgh only the day before. Now, there had been major activity that appeared to be targeting Wakanda. Kurt’s stomach had been in knots, but he was not fully concerned yet: with such widespread anomalies, the Avengers would certainly be on the case.
Kurt looked up from his computer to see Luis sat back in his seat, watching the television with rapt attention. “Man, this shit is fucked up. I mean, we got aliens here again; like what are the odds after New York a couple years ago?” he said to the room.
Dave sighed and stood as he went to the fridge. “As long as they don’t bring that shit over here, I’m good.”
Kurt glanced over at the television, and nothing could have prepared for what he saw next: the anchorman paused, placed his hand on his earpiece, and exclaimed, “What?” before his visible hand began to disintegrate into ash.
“What the fuck?” Kurt murmured.
“Yo, what the fuck! Dave look at this shit!” Luis exclaimed as he stood. The anchorman had now disintegrated into ash. The camera cut to two other anchors, whose mouths were agape.
“Oh, shit,” said one of the other anchors, who was beginning to turn to ash. The woman next to him screamed and jumped away.
“Uh, guys?” Dave said.
Both Luis and Kurt looked at Dave, who was staring at his hand, or rather, the ash that was his hand.
“What the fuck! Fuck, fuck!” Dave screamed as he fell back, more of his body dissipating into ash.
Kurt and Luis rushed over to Dave, but by the time they got to him, Dave had completely disintegrated and was nothing more than a pile of ash on the ground.
Outside, the sound of several cars crashing came, along with screams of terror. Kurt ran to the window, and could not believe he was witnessing pedestrians share the same fate as Dave and the anchormen. Others who were left, were scrambling around in the street. Kurt happened to look up, and saw a plane in the distance careening toward the ground.
“Oy yebat’,” Kurt muttered as he witnessed the chaos outside. Oh, fuck.
“Yo, man, I can’t get Scott on the phone,” Luis said. He took his phone away from his ear and dialled another number.
Kurt stepped away from the window, silent in shock as he sat back at his desk. He ran his hand through his hair.
“I can’t get Hope either…” Luis’ voice drowned out as panic truly set in for Kurt. What the fuck had happened, and what the fuck was going on?
That had been year ago, but Kurt still found it difficult to sleep. Other than Dave and Scott, he had not lost anyone personally. However, nightmares plagued him; not of the Blip, but his mind had regressed to the nightmares he had when he was still a child back in Russia.
When he could remember his dreams, they were always the same: Kurt was alone in his family’s apartment and the doors and window were locked. It was night, and certain lights would not come on. In a pitch black corner, he could see two glowing red eyes that stared into his little soul. Kurt was frozen in his spot and unable to run away as a decaying woman’s hand reached out from the shadows to grasp at little Kurt’s pajamas. And just as the hand would clamp down on his shoulder, he would hear a raspy voice all around him, “U tebya budet takoy khoroshiy vkus….” You will taste so good.
As Kurt placed the vodka bottle down, he realized he had drank almost all of the vodka. At this point, he did not care. He imagined that the dream he had just awakened from was another variation of his childhood nightmare of the witch his grandmother had warned him about: Baba Yaga.
It was foolish, he knew, to still believe that she was real. It was entirely illogical, but the fear of the enigmatic crone still nagged him at the back of his mind. The ghost girl had scared the shit out of him, but she had ultimately made clear that her affliction was caused by a quantum accident. Still, the fear of the Russian witch had not gone away, especially since the Blip.
Every so often, while doing mundane tasks, the hairs on the back of his neck would stand up as he felt as if someone were watching him. No one ever was, and when he confided to Luis about it, he was ultimately talked out of his paranoia.
As he rolled the vodka bottle around in his hand, the sensation of being watched returned. At this point, Kurt had become used to it and did not even bother to look up again. He sighed and stood, the nearly empty bottle in his hand, and went back to his bed. The watching sensation followed close behind, and, even though he knew no one was there, he was secretly glad he did not sleep nude.
Kurt sat on his bed, but he froze when he suddenly heard slight movement in the darkened corner of his bedroom. His eyes widened and he swallowed, silently praying that it had just been his imagination.
Another noise. And then he felt a presence on the other side of his bed.
“O Bozhe moy,” he whispered. Oh, dear God. He refused to turn around to the sound, his mind rushing with the warnings of his grandmother.
“Ona yest tvoy strakh,” his grandmother warned. She eats your fear. “Tak chto postaraytes’ podavit’ svoy strakh.” So try to suppress your fear.
Kurt swallowed again and began to whisper the song he was taught to keep the witch at bay. “Baba Yaga come at night… Little children sleepy tight…” He shut his eyes tight and laid down. “Baba Yaga give you bite… Lay in bed, don’t be upright…”
“I see you know my lullaby,” said a woman’s voice from the darkness.
Kurt let out a frightened sob as his heart pounded. His ears roared with the rush of blood, and he shook violently. He willed himself to keep his eyes closed and whimpered the rest of the lullaby.
“They teach it to children to keep me at bay, but if you listen to the words, it’s only encouraging… more fear.” Her hauntingly soothing tone sounded as if she were circling the bed to stand over Kurt.
He pressed his hands into his face as the lullaby was now barely coherent in his abject terror. He then felt two soft hands gently grasp his wrists and guide them away.
“Shh, kotyonok,” she breathed in Kurt’s ear. “Everything is all right.”
Kurt was still hyperventilating as his hands trembled in the woman’s grip. She released one of his wrists and took his other up in both of her surprisingly warm hands. She caressed his palm, her touch sending calming shockwaves through Kurt’s body.
“Please, please, don’t hurt me,” Kurt whimpered.
The woman chuckled deeply. “Why would I hurt the one who has sustained me all these years?” Kurt sensed her lean over. Her lips brushed his ear when she whispered, “Your fear has been delicious.”
Kurt moaned as he tried to crumpled away from the woman. He rolled over, his eyes still squeezed shut. “Don’t eat me, please!”
“So you know who I am,” the woman stood straight. Kurt nodded swiftly. “Look at me, kotya.”
“Please,” Kurt begged.
“Your fear will go away. Look at me and say my name.”
For a long while, Kurt stayed silent, hoping the woman would leave and not hurt him. He quieted his breathing as he tried to listen for her departure.
“Kurt,” she said with such gentleness, it was nearly enough to calm him.
He shifted slightly, considering her request. What would she look like? Would he be ready to face the witch that had haunted his sleeping mind? He finally opened his eyes; life had been upended in the Blip. What did he have left in this world to live for?
Kurt rolled over, his eyes trained down as he was not ready just yet to face the witch.
“Look at me, Kurt,” she cooed.
Kurt’s gaze lifted slowly, the moonlight from the window on the opposite wall illuminating the witch’s countenance. She wore a short, formfitting, forest green sarafan, with shimmering golden embroidery that shone like stars. The white long-sleeve shirt beneath the sarafan nearly blended in with the pale skin of her hands.
Her hands. Kurt was shocked that they did not match the grotesque, decaying claw that extended from the darkness in his nightmares. They looked as soft as they had felt: they were dainty and limber, similar to a pianist’s hands. He had felt the gentle strength of her fingers when she had held his hand, and there was a constant and invisible magical energy that emanated from her hands.
Kurt raised his gaze the rest of the way, and he faltered at the witch who stood before him. She was not a rotten crone like his grandmother had warned she was: her face was young yet wise beyond her perceived age. She was tall and elegantly Amazonian. Her features were ethereal and god-like, mainly because she was a god. She was a Dieva.
The full moon caused her to appear as if she were glowing; for all Kurt knew, perhaps she was glowing. Her blonde curls were tied up, but a few strands had fallen to perfectly frame her fair face. Everything about her was perfectly beautiful, but the only thing that gave Kurt pause was her blood red irises. Even then, her eyes discerned him with gentle observation and curiosity.
“Baba Yaga,” Kurt marveled in awe verging on newfound reverence.
The witch smiled, her dark pink lips forming a smirk. She waved her hand, and black smoke curled around her fingertips and floated to the lamp on the nightstand. The bulb flickered on, the darkness banished around them now.
“You’re…” Kurt swallowed.
“Not a monster? An old crone who eats children?” She chuckled. “Most of those stories are meant to harbor fear towards me.” She tossed her head. “Rather ingenious, don’t you think?”
“I…” Kurt paused. “I don’t understand.”
“I am a goddess, kotya. I live off of the fear people have for me.” The witch sighed. “Since the Destruction, I have been starved. I roamed the Earth searching for my fear. Everyone’s fears came to pass. They have none left. Except for you.” She leaned over and gently caressed Kurt’s cheek. “This is how I found you… moy liubumiy. Your nightmares were deep rooted in your childhood fear of me. They sustained me. You kept me alive, and I am forever grateful.” She pressed a kiss onto Kurt’s forehead, and another spark of calming energy flooded through him starting at the place her lips touched him.
“What can I do for you, kotya?”
“Why do you call me that?” Kurt asked softly as he looked into her eyes, her red irises disarming him.
“Why have you believed in me for so long when many are still children when they stop?” The witch began to card her fingers through Kurt’s black hair. “Because you are special. You are special to me, and you’ve always known I was there.”
Kurt nodded swiftly. “Every moment, I felt you near me. You never left.”
“Even when I felt nothing, you were there, far away. I could not escape you, Baba Yaga,” Kurt admitted. “Part of me did not want to.”
“Kurt Goreshter,” the witch hissed as she pressed against Kurt’s seated form. “You are mine…”
“Yes,” he whimpered, his fear long since exchanged for reverence and desire.
The witch tilted Kurt’s head back as she devoured his lips in a deep kiss. Kurt allowed her to take over his mouth, not even caring if this had been a trick and was going to siphon off his life. He was at her mercy, but then again, he always had been.
She broke the kiss, allowing Kurt to breathe again. “You have always been mine,” she stated. “Tell me, miliy, what do you want from me?” She straddled Kurt’s legs and pressed her core against him, her lips still centimeters from his.
Kurt suddenly realized how much heat he was emitting, and that he was thoroughly aroused. He strained against his boxers, desperately wanting the witch to touch him and relieve him. If this was a result of her magic, he did not care. This woman, a powerful and ancient deity, was his superior in every way. She had found his fear and fed off it, easing his anxious mind. She had emerged from the shadows and from nothing. She was a goddess, and here she stood before him. She could break his neck and end his life… and that was exhilarating. His heart raced in his chest, his skin burning where she touched him. Oh, he was gone.
Kurt’s trembling hands hovered above the witch’s waist, worrying that he would be punished for touching the Dieva goddess. “Dotron’sya do menya,” he stammered. Touch me. “Please…”
The witch stood straight and waved her hands, the black smoke magic draping her as she magicked away her sarafan and stood before Kurt, naked. She pressed her milky white skin against Kurt, her breasts so close to his face, and began to pet his hair. “How would you like for me to touch you, kotya? Gently?” She ran a finger down his jawline. “Or perhaps…” She took a fistful of Kurt’s black hair and jerked his head back, a gasp emitting from his lips. “You like for me to be rough with you?”
“Rough…” he rasped, his eyes glancing hungrily to the witch’s breasts.
She raised an eyebrow. “Say my name,” she demanded, a smirk forming.
Kurt swallowed harshly. “Baba Yaga,” he murmured.
The witch leaned closer to him, her breath tickling his face. “Louder.”
“Baba Yaga,” Kurt cried slightly louder, but not too loud so as to be mindful of his neighbors.
The witch smiled and released her grip in his hair. She stood straight again and gently guided Kurt’s desperate mouth to her nipple. “Moi horoshiy,” she praised. My good boy. As he suckled her, she let her head fall back and a moan escaped her lips. Kurt doubled his efforts as he longed to hear her make that noise again, his hot tongue dancing around her sensitive bud. He pressed his hand against her back as if to bring her closer to him.
She reached out and grabbed Kurt’s other hand and placed it on her other breast. Kurt’s fingers immediately went to work as he toyed with her neglected nipple, which sent shockwaves of pleasure through her body. She moaned once again and felt Kurt’s erection twitch against her thigh.
“You like to hear me, kotya?” she asked breathlessly. Kurt only sighed in response. The witch grabbed his chin and wrenched him away from her breast to look her in the eye. A line of saliva still connected his wet lips to her hardened nipple. “Answer me like the good little boy you are, miliy. Do you like to hear me when you pleasure me?”
“Yes, God, yes,” Kurt’s reply came out strained. He reached for his boxers to palm his erection. “Prekrasnoye sovershestvo…” Beautiful perfection.
The witch suddenly grabbed Kurt’s wrist with such force he thought he might find a bruise later… he did not mind. She held his hand away from his straining cock. “That is for me,” she insisted. She waved her hand, and both of Kurt’s wrists were suddenly bound with a black rope behind his back. Another flick of her wrist and Kurt’s torso was draped in black smoke. When it disappeared, his undershirt had disappeared, leaving him only in his boxers.
She snaked her hand up Kurt’s chest, her nails leaving chills beneath her touch. She slid her hand up to his throat and squeezed. Kurt swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing beneath her palm. His breath quickened as she leaned closer to him. “Would you like to know my real name?”
“Not Baba Yaga?” Kurt wheezed. She eased her grip over his windpipe, but kept her pressure on either side of his neck.
“That’s a name to scare naughty children,” she hissed as she pressed a kiss against Kurt’s lips. “My true name, the name I want you to scream is…” she brought her lips to Kurt’s ear. “Yekaterina.”
Kurt shivered at her breath against his ear. “Please,” he whimpered, his hands twitching behind him as his erection begged to be relieved.
The witch grinned almost wickedly. “Such a needy little boy,” she uttered before she climbed onto the bed and stood on her knees behind Kurt. She placed her hands on his shoulders, slowly letting one wander down his chest while the other gripped his throat. “What do you think I should do about that, kotya? Hmm?” She kissed the sensitive spot beneath his ear and then nibbled at his earlobe. “Should I touch him?” She dragged her hand over his stomach and stopped at the hem of his boxers, one finger creeping under the elastic.
Kurt groaned as he could feel her magic swirl around his cock with such featherlight touches that he could not be sure he was actually feeling anything.
Once again, the witch waved her hand and magicked away Kurt’s boxers, his erection bobbing free in the cool air. She inched her hand further down, but refrained from touching his cock. “Maybe if he says my real name…” she suggested. Her fingers tightened slightly around Kurt’s throat.
“Yekaterina…” he sighed as his head fell back against her shoulder.
She brought her hand to his lips. “Otkryt’,” she ordered softly. Open. Kurt dutifully opened his mouth and she dipped her fingers into his wet mouth. She pushed them to the back of his throat and just as he was about to gag, she withdrew, her fingers now drenched in his saliva.
Yekaterina brought her lubricated hand back down to Kurt’s erection and slowly wrapped around his heated cock.
Kurt cried out and shut his eyes, pleasure shooting through his body.
“Yes, moi horoshiy. What lovely noises you make for me,” she praised. He whimpered once again as she began to slide her hand up his cock, her thumb stroking his purpling tip. Kurt bucked his hips into her hand, and she stopped her movement. “Stay still, kotya.”
“I—I can’t,” he whined. He tried to steady his breathing, his cock twitching in her hand.
“For me,” she said gently. “Stay still for me and you will know unimaginable pleasure.”
Kurt nodded, not knowing how much better he could possibly feel.
“Good boy,” she whispered, and her ministrations began again. Kurt shuddered beneath her touch. He let his head fall to the side against Yekaterina’s neck. His heavy breaths heated her skin, and a moan came from his chest whenever she swiped her thumb across his slit as she pumped up and down.
“Bystreye,” he begged, his voice tremulous. Faster.
Yekaterina obliged, her hand masturbating him as he wished. After a few pumps, she swiped his tip again and felt the sticky pre-cum against her thumb. He was close.
Kurt was a trembling mess and extremely vocal, his whines and moans coming with every exhale. “Chtob menya,” he cried into Yekaterina’s ear. Oh, fuck me.
“Yes, kotya, you want me to fuck you?” she breathed as her hand went faster. “You want to feel a goddess around you? To know what it’s like to fuck a Dieva?”
“Yes, God, pozhaluysta, let me fuck you!” Kurt begged, his voice cracking. He was close to the edge, a band within him tightening.
“Then cum for me, Kurt,” she ordered.
“I can’t—“ he stuttered. Beads of sweat formed at his brow.
“Trust me, kotya. Cum for me,” Yekaterina soothed. “Say my name and cum for me.”
Something snapped within Kurt, and he felt his balls tighten as he lurched forward. “Yekaterina!” he grunted. As soon as he said her name, the pleasure that swam through his body was magnified by a thousand, and he nearly screamed as his eyes shot open. He knew her magic was amplifying his orgasm; he saw stars and convulsed as he came, streams of cum shooting from his cock and onto Yekaterina’s hand. Ecstasy flowed over him in waves, seemingly never ceasing, his hips involuntarily bucking into Yekaterina.
As his orgasm began to abate, his breathing also began to return to normal as vision returned to him. He had fucked many women and even a few men, but no one had ever come close to giving him what he now considered the best and longest orgasm of his life.
“What a good little boy,” Yekaterina said as released his cock and pressed a kiss onto Kurt’s slack mouth. When his thoughts returned, he kissed her back.
He felt his hands release behind him, Yekaterina’s magical bindings disappearing. He brought his hands up to the witch’s face as he reciprocated the passion she brought.
“Do you want me to fuck you now?” she asked when she pulled away, her finger tracing his cheek.
“I can’t, now—“ Kurt began.
Yekaterina smirked wryly. “You forget, kotya. I am a goddess.” She pulled Kurt back onto the bed and straddled him in one quick motion, moving him so that his head was now at the head of the bed.
Before Kurt had any time to speak, he felt an energy rush through him, and arousal once again forced his cock into an erection. His breath shuddered, his awe at her power growing. He swallowed.
“Why do you want to do this?” he asked. “I should be worshipping you.”
Yekaterina crawled up to face Kurt and she began to trace his lips. His dark eyes watched her every movement. Her red irises burned through him as she said, “Because you are mine. You belong to me, Kurt Goreshter. And what good is moi horoshiy if he isn’t satisfied by his own goddess?” She grinded her hips against Kurt’s, her own wet heat teasing against his erection.
Kurt’s eyes closed at the sensation of Yekaterina’s arousal against his cock. It drove him mad to be this close to a goddess who wanted him, who desired his body. This had been his reward for his fear; he had been worshipping Baba Yaga without even knowing. And he had been found worthy of her. It may have been her magic messing with his mind, but he could no longer stand it: he wanted to be inside her… now.
“You are certainly eager, miliy.” Yekaterina said as she ran her fingers through Kurt’s chest hair. “I must confess: I have waited so long to make you mine, to have you surrender completely to me.”
Yekaterina slowly aligned her entrance with Kurt’s cock; he whined as he felt her dripping heat against his tip. “Pozhaluysta, vyyebi menya!” Kurt cried, his trembling hands resting on her thighs. Please, fuck me.
“With pleasure, moi horoshiy,” the witch smirked. She sank down onto Kurt’s cock, and his eyes rolled back into his head at the sensation. He sighed lewdly, his hands gripping Yekaterina so hard that she might have bruised if she were mortal. But she was no mortal, and with the divine euphoria that came from her tight walls around him, he absolutely knew: she was the witch of his nightmares and dreams; she was the enchantress he was warned about throughout his childhood and told to fear in the shadows; she was the goddess of witchcraft who would eat him alive given the chance.
When Yekaterina had adjusted to his presence, she began to rock her hips against his languidly. He thrust into her rhythm, seemingly with no conscious control: it was purely carnal instinct at that point for Kurt.
Yekaterina angled her hips forward and moaned loudly as the friction of their thrusts met her clit and sent sparks through her body. She clenched around Kurt, which caused him to gasp and groan in return. He suddenly rolled his hips into her harder, and his cock finally met her G-spot.
“Fuck, kotya,” she growled, and she snaked her hands underneath Kurt’s ass and lifted him, proving that she had the strength of a Dieva to position him in such a way that would assure her own pleasure.
Kurt met her ministrations thrust-for-thrust, Yekaterina’s magic apparently sustaining his libido. She was fast, much faster than anyone he had ever been with, and before she had even been fucking him for a minute, he had returned to his precipice.
Yekaterina leaned over Kurt, never faltering in her rhythm. “I want you to cum inside me, moi horoshiy,” she panted, her blonde curls plastered to her forehead with sweat. “Do it, and I will reward you.” Kurt nodded, and she pressed a long, hungry kiss against his lips. This time, there was no control on her end: the kiss was sloppy and erratic, a sign that she, too, was close.
Kurt moaned against her, the thought of him pleasuring a goddess sending him into his final throes. Yekaterina stifled a moan as she stilled and clenched around Kurt’s cock again and again. This careened him over the edge, and for the second time that night, he saw stars as his body seized in his own orgasm. As his first rope of cum landed inside of her, Kurt felt an additional wave of pleasure course through his body. He nearly screamed as his orgasm punched him again and again to the point he was sure he would pass out. When he thought he was nearing the end, another wave rushed through him, this time actually causing him to yell Yekaterina’s name again and again.
Kurt thought his heart was going to explode in his chest by the time his orgasm subsided. His skin was hot to the touch, and his hair was drenched in sweat. He opened his eyes, still too dizzy to see straight. His cheeks felt wet, and he realized that tears of ecstasy had fallen from his eyes. He panted, completely spent and out of breath.
“Shh, kotya,” Yekaterina cooed as she stroked his cheek. Only then did he realize that the witch was still on top of him and he was still inside her. “You did so well for me.” She kissed him once more on the corner of his mouth. “So good for me.”
Still breathless, Kurt opened his mouth to respond, but Yekaterina pressed a finger against his mouth. “Shh, catch your breath,” she insisted. She sat up on her hands and knees and pulled herself off of Kurt. Immediately, he missed her warmth and longed to be in her again, despite the fact he was no longer aroused.
Yekaterina laid beside him and continued to pet him, moving her hand to his chest and stomach. Her blood red irises watched Kurt as his breathing returned to normal. Beneath her touch, she felt his heartrate slow.
After a long while, Kurt turned to look at the witch, who was still observing him with dusky curiosity. She smiled at him.
“You’re wondering if I truly am Baba Yaga,” she guessed.
“You never said it yourself,” Kurt pointed out.
She chuckled. “I am Baba Yaga,” she admitted. “Don’t worry. You fucked the right witch.”
“You will leave?” Kurt asked.
Yekaterina sighed and rolled on her back. “The world is broken with sadness. I am a forgotten myth, now. No one fears me.” She turned to smile at Kurt sadly. “Not even you, my kotya who sustained me.” She placed her hand on his cheek. When she touched him, however, her smile dissipated. She sat up.
Kurt sat up as well, worried. “What’s wrong?”
“You still fear me?” she asked, her thumb stroking his cheek.
“You are still a witch. You can bring things back to life. Your stories have truth in them,” Kurt explained.
Relief washed over Yekaterina’s face. “You need to rest, miliy. Morning will soon be here.”
Kurt grinned mischievously and scooted closer to Yekaterina. “I find that I am not so tired anymore,” he said as he gently kissed her.
Yekaterina touched the back of his head with her black magic, and Kurt fell back, already asleep by the time she placed his head on his pillow. She stood and picked up the duvet that had been discarded a long while back and covered Kurt with it. She magicked a short nightgown onto her body and cleaned herself up at the same time. She turned out the lamp and leaned over to press one last kiss on Kurt’s forehead.
“I’ll be here when you awake, kotya,” she whispered.
Kurt’s cell phone alarm woke him, along with the early morning San Francisco sun that streamed through his window. He sighed in exhaustion; his dreams last night were intense. He was even sore from them.
He turned off his phone and pushed the duvet off. Kurt was instantly cold, and he looked down to find the reason why: he was naked. This puzzled him. Certainly he had not removed his clothes in his sleep…
He stood and found a fairly clean pair of boxers and slipped them on. It was only then he realized that he was smelling something from his kitchen. It was a burning smell: someone was cooking.
Kurt opened his bedroom door to find a tall, blonde woman in his kitchen. He blinked in shock. So he had not been dreaming…
Yekaterina spun around with a plate in her hand. “Good morning, kotya,” she said cheerily.
Kurt said nothing, but he approached the kitchen. He looked at the spread on the countertop. It was all hot breakfast foods that he knew he did not have in his apartment. Maybe a spare box of Chinese takeout and some eggs, but certainly not—
“I made some syrniki,” Yekaterina said as she pointed a pair of tongs at a stack of pancakes. “Tvorog, ponchiki, zapekanka…” She gestured to the other food items and handed Kurt the empty plate in her hand. “Priyatnogo appetita!”
He still did not move as he looked over the food before him. “How did you—?”
“Kotya, I’m a witch,” she said simply. “Now, please. Before it all gets cold.”
“So… you’re staying?” Kurt asked.
Yekaterina smiled. “As I said before, your fear is delicious.” She came over to his side of the counter and kissed him passionately. “Besides, you belong to me now, miliy. Right?”
Kurt gazed at her blazing red eyes before he glanced down at picked up a syrniki. “Always,” he replied, happy to bend his will to the witch.
(I'm so sorry you had to read that)
17 notes · View notes