What You Have

She would not be crying like that. If Ivan were touching her breasts (much smaller than Katyusha's but adequate enough to please) she would not cry. She would throw her arms around him. Finally. Finally.

Katyusha cries. Her tears are near silent. And the reason she knows, knows this isn't the first time, is because Katyusha cries like that. Her eyes are squeezed shut, but she keeps crying. She trembles under Ivan's touch, recoiling as though he were burning her. Natalia watches with sick fascination, biting her lip to remain silent. Hate floods through her.

Katyusha's skin is pale and flushed, smooth and soft under fingers that press too hard. Fingers that Natalia wants over her own body, fingers she wants to feel and revel in and hold. Katyusha just lets out little soft whimpers, hands gripping the sheets below her. She doesn't say anything, doesn't tell Ivan that he is the god of her world.

He doesn't say anything either.

Natalia watches to torture herself. She knows. Knows that Ivan doesn't love her. Knows that he never will. But if he could just pretend. If he could just touch her to satisfy himself. If he could just.... she doesn't know what else she wants from him, so shakes off the thoughts, watches them. If he could just do to her what he does to Katyusha.

She watches him slide into her. Watches her arch and cry and grab him. She can't picture herself in Katyusha's place. She just wants to scream. Why? How?! How could Ivan do this? How could he defile their sister, but leave her with her infuriating purity? How could he lie, as though he could never do something like this.

As though he wasn't a beast like the rest of them.

She closes her eyes and listens to his soft grunts as he pushes inside of her, listens to her cries (there's begging mixed in, not loud enough to take seriously) as she holds him. She has exactly what Natalia wants.

She leaves before their union comes to an end, can't stand to think of him enjoying the feel of her body. Can't stand to think of what they had as some sort of love.

The hate swells until she feels sick.

He passes her in the hallway, lacking his usual pleasant smile. She can smell Katyusha all over him. He freezes when he noticed her, expecting her to jump on him and beg for marriage. Natalia's face remains blank, thinking that guilt is written all over his face (how could she have not noticed before) and that he may as well openly admit it.

"Where's Katyusha?" She whispers instead. She can't bear to look at his face.

"In her room. She is tired." Because I have been fucking her into the mattress. Natalia raises her lip in a sneer, tossing her hair over her shoulders and stalking off down the hall. Ivan watches after her, unable to speak, unsure of what had happened.

Katyusha is laying in bed, still naked under the covers. Natalia slips in, watching her prone body, hate boiling in her. Everything. Everything. Everything!

"Katyusha." She moves forward, crawling on top of Katyusha, examining her face. It's stained with dry tears, drained of color. She tries to understand what Ivan sees in her, why Ivan would fuck her. Why her and not Natalia? Natalia who was willing. Natalia that would die for him. Katyusha is frozen in horror.

"N-Natalia?" Katyusha murmurs, wiggling to test her grip. Natalia holds her tight. Her eyes begin to well with tears. With vigor, Natalia pulls away the covers, touches each mark left on her body, small bruises from finger tips, the indents of teeth, red splotches of kiss marks. "Natalia!"

"Everything. Everything!" Natalia kisses each mark, watching Katyusha carefully. She shudders beneath her, this time her eyes wide to stare back at her, glassy and blue. She leans up, kissing a soft pink mouth. Ivan had tasted this mouth. This body. Ivan had touched her. Natalia growls. "You always take everything from me."

That's when Katyusha breaks, holding her tight. "I'm sorry." She whimpers. She doesn't let go, just cries into her hair. She doesn't try to explain. She doesn't tell her that she didn't want to. She just cries and apologizes. Natalia touches her, ignores the small noises that sputter from her.

"This body. Ivan touched it. Ivan fucked it." She wants to go farther, touch Katyusha until she has no more tears to shed, make her scream. She wants Katyusha to think of her every time Ivan touches her, every time Ivan fucks her. She wants Katyusha to remember who wanted him, who loved him. She can't.

"Everything you have. It's all what I want." She rests her head on the pale shoulder before her. Katyusha hiccups and pets her hair, holding her gently. She does not yell. She does not kick Natalia out. She does not hate her. The tears that sting Natalia's eyes are blinked back.

Everything. Everything she wanted.