Morning in the Land of Midnight Sun [1/?]
anonymous
November 15 2009, 02:52:30 UTC
This is just my fourth fic for this pairing, and I’ll try to update as often as I can - but I hope you all enjoy! ___
Ivan wonders what woke him before he was ready; his eyelids stay closed for a moment, lashes flickering against his cheekbones.
And then he sighs, stirs, and opens his eyes, squinting them against the mild light forcing its way through the curtain cracks in a trickle.
He will have to buy shades, he thinks, curling his hand a bit closer to his mouth. Yes. Shades are better - there is more control over where the light shines then, more ways to force it out when it’s not wanted, and welcome it in when it’s desired.
He desires the gentle glow of a fireplace, and the warmth it brings - but not even embers simmer in the ashes now, and above his down comforter the room feels chill against his cheek.
But it’s not the cold that wakes him. No. It’s something else. It’s -
Behind him, Alfred sighs into Ivan’s neck and shifts closer, and he feels something hard and hot press against his back.
Oh.
That’s what woke him.
Ivan snorts, fighting the instinct to wiggle back into Alfred’s arms. It will just encourage him, and the last thing Alfred needs right now is less sleep, here in the land where the sun never really sets for a month of the year. He shuts his eyes and sees Alfred, grinning, running ahead in Saint Petersburg’s streets, fueled by the light of the ever-present sun. Alfred, hands in his pockets as he looks up into the sky. Alfred, above him last night, riding him and looking so dark and beautiful and forbidden in the flames. So tired, that he fell asleep before his head even hit Ivan’s chest at 4 AM that morning, too tired to even care about the sunlight filtering through his eyelids in a gray haze.
Ivan smoothes the sheets aside and sits up. He will just go and relight the fire, and then he will lie down with Alfred under the sheets and enjoy the silence and the warmth.
“‘Van?”
Perhaps not, then. Ivan sighs and looks down; Alfred’s blinking up at him through half-lidded eyes, his lips parted just enough so that Ivan can see a hint of teeth. He reaches down and spreads his fingertips against the darkening shadows under Alfred’s eyes. “It’s all right, Alfred. Go back to sleep.”
But Alfred just frowns back, his lips turning down as he tightens his arms around Ivan’s waist like a spoiled child. “Where y’ going?”
“Just to rekindle the fire, Alfred.
Alfred’s lips draw down even further, and his arms start using that famous strength. “Stay,” he murmurs, one arm coming up to splay on Ivan’s chest and press him back down into the soft comforter, the giving, easy pillows.
“Alfred -”
“Shh.” Alfred’s lips on his temple shut Ivan up better than any fingers against lips. “It’s warm enough,” he whispers, kissing his way down Ivan’s hairline, his cheekbone.
“But…the fireplace….”
“‘s not like it’s going anywhere.” Earlobe. Jaw.
“The room is cold, Alfred...” he persists. But he is surrendering, of course, because Alfred is warm and sleepy and affectionate in ways he almost never shows when he’s wide-eyed and wide awake.
“So it’s warm here.” Neck. The delicate skin between shoulder and neck.
“Alfred.” A plea - but he’s not sure what he’s asking for.
Alfred rolls over so that he’s on top of Ivan. It is instinct that draws his arms around Alfred’s neck, of course, he thinks. There is no other explanation.
“Just something quick,” Alfred whispers, bending his head so that his golden bangs brush Ivan’s forehead. “Five minutes, Ivan, that’s all I’m asking for.” He starts kissing him again, nuzzling, his voice still soaked with drowse and idleness - his voice is the sky of a summer sunset, the color where the blue horizon meets his green prairies
Ivan tilts his head just so - a bit to the right and up - and catches Alfred’s lips.
Alfred sighs, and his body relaxes in a slow melt, sinking down until he’s pressed to Ivan’s body, belly against belly and thigh against thigh. Alfred pulls back a bit, and Ivan hears him draw a sharp breath through his nose before kissing him again, molding their mouths open with the spread of his lips.
As Ivan tastes the tip of Alfred’s tongue, he hears Alfred sigh, a contented sound with something that sounds like a little whimper of need.
___
Ivan wonders what woke him before he was ready; his eyelids stay closed for a moment, lashes flickering against his cheekbones.
And then he sighs, stirs, and opens his eyes, squinting them against the mild light forcing its way through the curtain cracks in a trickle.
He will have to buy shades, he thinks, curling his hand a bit closer to his mouth. Yes. Shades are better - there is more control over where the light shines then, more ways to force it out when it’s not wanted, and welcome it in when it’s desired.
He desires the gentle glow of a fireplace, and the warmth it brings - but not even embers simmer in the ashes now, and above his down comforter the room feels chill against his cheek.
But it’s not the cold that wakes him. No. It’s something else. It’s -
Behind him, Alfred sighs into Ivan’s neck and shifts closer, and he feels something hard and hot press against his back.
Oh.
That’s what woke him.
Ivan snorts, fighting the instinct to wiggle back into Alfred’s arms. It will just encourage him, and the last thing Alfred needs right now is less sleep, here in the land where the sun never really sets for a month of the year. He shuts his eyes and sees Alfred, grinning, running ahead in Saint Petersburg’s streets, fueled by the light of the ever-present sun. Alfred, hands in his pockets as he looks up into the sky. Alfred, above him last night, riding him and looking so dark and beautiful and forbidden in the flames. So tired, that he fell asleep before his head even hit Ivan’s chest at 4 AM that morning, too tired to even care about the sunlight filtering through his eyelids in a gray haze.
Ivan smoothes the sheets aside and sits up. He will just go and relight the fire, and then he will lie down with Alfred under the sheets and enjoy the silence and the warmth.
“‘Van?”
Perhaps not, then. Ivan sighs and looks down; Alfred’s blinking up at him through half-lidded eyes, his lips parted just enough so that Ivan can see a hint of teeth. He reaches down and spreads his fingertips against the darkening shadows under Alfred’s eyes. “It’s all right, Alfred. Go back to sleep.”
But Alfred just frowns back, his lips turning down as he tightens his arms around Ivan’s waist like a spoiled child. “Where y’ going?”
“Just to rekindle the fire, Alfred.
Alfred’s lips draw down even further, and his arms start using that famous strength. “Stay,” he murmurs, one arm coming up to splay on Ivan’s chest and press him back down into the soft comforter, the giving, easy pillows.
“Alfred -”
“Shh.” Alfred’s lips on his temple shut Ivan up better than any fingers against lips. “It’s warm enough,” he whispers, kissing his way down Ivan’s hairline, his cheekbone.
“But…the fireplace….”
“‘s not like it’s going anywhere.” Earlobe. Jaw.
“The room is cold, Alfred...” he persists. But he is surrendering, of course, because Alfred is warm and sleepy and affectionate in ways he almost never shows when he’s wide-eyed and wide awake.
“So it’s warm here.” Neck. The delicate skin between shoulder and neck.
“Alfred.” A plea - but he’s not sure what he’s asking for.
Alfred rolls over so that he’s on top of Ivan. It is instinct that draws his arms around Alfred’s neck, of course, he thinks. There is no other explanation.
“Just something quick,” Alfred whispers, bending his head so that his golden bangs brush Ivan’s forehead. “Five minutes, Ivan, that’s all I’m asking for.” He starts kissing him again, nuzzling, his voice still soaked with drowse and idleness - his voice is the sky of a summer sunset, the color where the blue horizon meets his green prairies
Ivan tilts his head just so - a bit to the right and up - and catches Alfred’s lips.
Alfred sighs, and his body relaxes in a slow melt, sinking down until he’s pressed to Ivan’s body, belly against belly and thigh against thigh. Alfred pulls back a bit, and Ivan hears him draw a sharp breath through his nose before kissing him again, molding their mouths open with the spread of his lips.
As Ivan tastes the tip of Alfred’s tongue, he hears Alfred sigh, a contented sound with something that sounds like a little whimper of need.
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OP!anon is immensely happy and giggly and downright bouncy! THANK YOU WRITER!ANON!!!!
I'll have a F5 party around here until you update this!
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