Fyodor Dostoevsky

Fyodor was almost always busy, working on his computer for an upcoming plan or fight, typing away on the large monitors, barely paying attention to you who was on his lap, riding his thigh. he smirked as he listened to the pathetic pants and whines escaping your lips, "darling, if your not going to be quiet, I may have to make you go in the other room and wait." He whispered with a stern voice, "making my pants all dirty because you can't wait for my work to be dirty, tsk." Fyodor noticed you becoming more needy as time passed, the little pleas escaping your mouth were tempting; but he was busy. "It's my thigh or nothing, lets see if you can get off by just grinding."