Work Text:
“Princess Anilaphat. Your letters have arrived.”
It's the highlight of her month.
Winter is the toughest time of the year. Her classes drag more than ever. The daylight disappears before she finishes her studies. The weather has turned bitterly cold, and her yearning to see her family and her beloved Khun Pin is worse than ever.
Reading her long-awaited letters, however, will most certainly help to recharge her exhausted batteries.
She grabs them eagerly, yanking them from the man's hands and immediately dashing to the nearest table to open them.
Two from her mother, one from each of her brothers, and three from Khun Pin. Seeing that Pin has written three nearly has Anil jumping out of her seat in pure elation.
As always, she puts Pin's to one side in an attempt to save them for last.
The letters from her family brings her so much comfort, it's like she's sitting at home again, only a room away from them. Her brothers offer her encouragement. There isn't too much time left before she's due home. Six months to go.
The last few months may drag, dear sister, but they will be all the more worth it for your future.
The need to read Khun Pin's letters overwhelms her so much, she only manages to skim over the remaining two letters from her family. She'll have to read them at a later time. Telling herself to wait, to leave the best until last, never works. She's tried and failed for years. If she has the opportunity to read Pin's words, especially after such a draining month, she's going to read them right now.
Finally opening Khun Pin's envelope to see the three letters inside, Anil's heart aches. She misses her so devastatingly much, she doesn't think it's even worth finishing her studies. All she wants is to be in each other's arms at last.
Each letter is numbered from one to three, as they often were. Pin has a particular order she writes in, and always asks for Anil to read them correctly.
She reads the first two slowly and carefully, savouring every precious word on the paper. Pin explains some of her favourite dishes from this month, and Anil's mouth waters. She can almost taste it.
The third letter, sealed in another envelope, has some of the smallest writing Anil has ever seen. It's in the top left corner – barely visible to the naked eye. So, she plucks it out to take a better look.
Open in the privacy of your bedroom.
Oh...
Pin has sent suggestive letters before, particularly when they had first established their relationship and Anil left home for the second time. Her writing was reserved—it was Khun Pin—but they were always more than enough for Anil's imagination.
She keeps the letter close for the rest of the afternoon, wondering what hides in there for Pin to write that on the front of her envelope. She's never done that before.
By evening, Anil finishes her studies for the day and she can finally, at last, read Khun Pin's third letter.
She lies on the bed in her nightgown, slipping beneath the covers; switching off all the lights bar the one beside her bed, and opens the letter with apprehensive fingers.
My Princess Anilaphat,
Most nights, I think of you beside me, comforting me, holding me tight as we drift in and out of slumber together.
Tonight, I think of you in many other ways, too.
I would rarely be so forward about such thoughts, but tonight it overwhelms me beyond sanity.
The first few lines already have Anil releasing a tremoring breath. She's been craving this as long as she can remember, but she's unsure if she will survive Pin's desirous words now they're in front of her, waiting to be read.
The thought of your lips on my skin makes me so feverish, I cannot prevent my hand from pressing against the most intimate of areas as I write you this letter. My shaky handwriting may prove this.
Her handwriting does prove to be shaky. A shiver makes its way down Anil's body.
Is it too much? Or would you like me to continue?
Anil nods to herself. Whispers the smallest please. Thanks the heavens there's an entire page of writing for her to read.
I wonder how you will pleasure yourself as you read this. Will you sink your fingers inside like you did so often with me? Will you touch that sensitive spot that causes your legs to quiver? Or, will you try something different?
Anil sits there in disbelief, her heart now racing. It's startling. It's opened the floodgates.
Do me the honour of telling me in your next letter. Or better, when we meet again. Something you can demonstrate when you return to my arms.
The thought of Pin being so hungry, so desperate for her that she had to write something so much more detailed than she ever has before sends a rush of molten heat directly between Anil's thighs. She needs to relieve the tension.
Will you try something different?
She sits quietly, darts her eyes across the room.
What could she possibly try?
Glancing around, Anil searches high and low for something—anything—for Khun Pin's wandering mind. She wants to. She has to.
I think about you in all the ways I can remember. Details I can never forget no matter how much time we spend apart.
The scent of your sweet perfume that lingers on your neck. The sounds you make that make me wish I could bottle them up and listen to them whenever I desire. I long to hear your sighs again, your broken breaths as you give yourself to me.
Anil reads and rereads those words as she bunches the material of her nightgown, gathering it just above her knees. Fingers reach for her underwear, dragging them down over her knees and kicking them off.
The image of Pin trying to write a letter whilst pleasuring herself is playing on repeat in Anil's woozy head. She wonders how she wrote it. Did she write at her desk with a hand between her legs? Did she write it on her bed, kneeling over the paper as she tried to concentrate, only to feel the desire pool between her thighs until she couldn't take it any longer? Did she start with pleasuring herself late at night, then couldn't bear the thought of Anil not knowing, before choosing to write about it as she worked her fingers between soft, wet heat?
Scanning her bedroom again, Anil's eyes land on the pillow settled against the headboard behind her, the letter 'P' embroidered on it. A hand reaches out, clouded with lust, and traces the letter with the pad of her forefinger.
She thinks about Pin. Pin's eyes, Pin's mouth, Pin's neck, Pin's fingers. Takes a deep breath; grabs the pillow.
Will you try something different?
She sits up, pillow in hand, and shuffles to place it on the bed beneath her, making sure the embroidery is still visible.
She drags the gown over her head throws it somewhere on the floor without giving it a second look. The room is cool, but she pays it no mind as her eyes stay glued to Pin's sentences in a daze, lowering herself to settle her thighs around the pillow. Her head dips forward—a shaky exhale as she gathers the pillow more firmly—and continues to read.
How I miss the taste of you. It aches so terribly between my thighs just thinking about tasting you again. The thought of it has me biting my fingers to keep myself from crying out.
She slowly slides along the fabric and back again. The friction sends a roil through her body and she twitches; the smallest hitch of breaths. She hasn't felt the desire to do anything like this in weeks, and the lack of contact has her senses all the more heightened.
If only you could understand the severity of my lust in this moment, Anil. I feel it over my fingers as I sit here. I wish you were able to see it. To hear it. To feel it. To taste it.
Closing her eyes, she presses harder to feel more, and imagines Pin beneath her. Soft and writhing and whimpering as Anil ruts against her; her own arousal coating Pin's thigh.
It's then when Anil feels the small wet patch building beneath. It doesn't do too much to help with the friction, but it's better than nothing at all. She chases for more as her chest expands with growing desire and she adjusts herself, gathering the pillow again as her eyes meet the letter once more.
Would you like to know a secret?
Anil nods as if Pin can see her through the paper, thousands of miles away.
Sometimes, when the day is quiet and I'm feeling especially lonely, I sneak into your bedroom...
Anil's heart stops, holding her breath before daring to read the following words.
...I slip beneath your duvet, and I do it there, too.
The air in Anil's lungs heaves out of her in a single sweeping, shaking breath, clenching the pillow with fists so forcefully it pains her.
It's a revelation she never expected to hear, especially coming from someone who is so often reserved. Then, it's all she can think about. Different images flash through her mind as she closes her eyes. Pin's fingers fisting the sheets, open-mouthed and muffled against Anil's own pillow as she tries to stay quiet. Anil's name falling from her tongue as she starts to lose herself.
The next roll of her hips is maddening. It's just right, hitting the perfect spot. She wonders if Pin has ever tried this and almost falls apart at the idea of asking her to do it when they meet again.
When I do it there, my mind often wanders to all the scenarios in which you give yourself to me. It wanders to you beneath me, your warmth wrapped around me, the curve of your spine as you edge closer.
"Khun Pin," Anil whines into the emptiness of the room. She can't stop the sounds spilling from her lips as she grinds into the pillow so vigorously that the bed starts to creak.
Can you feel it, darling?
She chases the gradual build brewing deep down; a simmering heat slowly reaching boiling point. The cool air clashes with the warmth of her body and she trembles. “Yes, I feel it.”
I feel it, too.
The writing ends abruptly, but the bottom of her letter is stained with a kiss, painted with lipstick. Anil gravitates towards it like a magnet, meeting it with her own, so eagerly wishing Pin could be here, to see the state she's in, all because of her words on paper.
She flicks her tongue out in desperate hope that she can taste the remnants of Pin's lips beneath, and the simple thought of their lips touching this same piece of paper is enough for her to fall to pieces with Pin's name on her tongue.
Yours, and only yours.
Pilanthita