She'd stepped in.

It was as if the old lights of past feelings and of love, died away, before her.

He knew who she was; who wouldn't?
She was him in the sense of being a woman instead; he'd held on, felt her close in on him, knew they shouldn't even kiss.

He knew that she wasn't his to kiss that she like him had sold her heart to another who wouldn't even bat an eye at this.

Nikolai held her close, felt Natalya lean into him and gave in for a moment; he forgot about Anya, and she forgot about Ivan.

In one fluid swoop, they were alone in mind and soft to the touch as if their normal ice cold exterior had melted away to soft, plush snow.

He clung to her in a way that no one could imagine or think up when referring to their selves.

Nikolai stared because she was beautiful and was him as a woman, only being about to pull away to do this after ages of locked lips and hugged close bodies.

He knew he'd never forget this in the way that minds clung to odd images and feelings that shouldn't be there.

Nikolai did not utter a word of protest but felt it all the way through his being, felt her take over what she shouldn't have been able to.

She was not to be granted this control over him, but he let her with a passion to just know for once what any form of love beyond platonic love was; she didn't care for him really like that. He knew that at least in the same way that he didn't really care for her like that.

He held her anyway, returned her kisses, and whispered the whispers of one pretending that their love was in their arms and not some other person.

Nikolai never cried over it, never felt his heart break in two, only felt the burning of which he'd have what he wanted more than anything instead he had her.

She smirked against his lips, and it suddenly felt like he was kissing 'his' Russia as if finally everything had fallen into place.

He knew her mind had wandered as well; she adored the mostly gentle nature of her brother while he adored the spunk of his sister.
They ignored the potential for multiple aspects that took away from that; the two of them just wanted stolen moments together and aching hearts that told of another for however long it would take until they finally changed their minds.

He imagined a woman not too different from her though different enough to count, to matter; he had his other self in his arms, had a woman that he didn't love intertwined around him and wondered whether kissing truly felt and tasted different if you loved your partner.