I saw that war and peace tag..... does anyone remember hélènekhov 🙏
Helene’s eyes sparkle like the champaign in her glass. She looks half a girl again, with her lips a little swollen and her cheeks flushed. She is breathing heavily, her breasts rising and falling in the tight grasp of her gown.
Dolokhov reaches out and runs a hand over the soft skin of her neck, down to the lush mounds peeking out from her cleavage. “Let me get you out of that dress,” he murmurs in her ear, pressing a soft kiss against its base.
She laughs – her laughter sparkles too. “So many years, M. Dolokhov, and you still have not learned to wait.”
Somewhere a large clock chimes. The voices down the hall in the drawing room rise in cheers and celebration. Helene’s eyes go a little wide at the realization and Dolokhov smirks – he has kept her from her guests.
She smacks his arms with her fan, indignant, which makes him laugh harder. He clicks his champaign glass against hers. “Happy New Year, Princess.”
She has not had that title in years, but he will not bring up her husband in this moment. Helene understands – her eyes soften. She tilts her face up and lets him kiss her.
[Send me a ship and I will write a drabble with that ship + a new year's kiss]
