Exposé (4/?)
anonymous
September 19 2010, 00:44:53 UTC
Ivan sighed and sipped his drink, using it to mask his awkward shuffling. How did Alfred wear these jeans all the time? They were squeezing his butt and legs too much and riding his crotch uncomfortably. It is not as though he could adjust himself, not with the entire club full of people around.
He wrinkled his nose. The bar girl had promised him that he would enjoy the fruity pink drink, as she blinked her eyes in quick succession. (Did all American females have the same chronic eye ailment?) But he did not care for the diluted beverage, and would prefer having one of the bottles from the self. What was wrong with plain vodka? It was classic, like borscht on winter eves. Ivan tipped the glass to his lips and chugged the corn syrup laden beverage down, licking his lips free of clinging sugar and resting the glass on the bar.
Ivan’s eyes scanned to the floor. A dance club is not the place he would imagine having one of his date with Alfred, but he seemed excited for this new club. Expose, exposé? It was called something like that. He had not really bothered to pay attention as Alfred dragged him past the bouncer and tried to urge him to the dance floor. Ivan, however, was more content to stand by the bar and watch Alfred enjoy the loud music.
Alfred was an excellent dancer. He breathed the rhythm and the beat. Tempo and chorus were like dance patterns that twirled around him. It was a skill that helped him with more than dancing…
It also seemed to be attracting some admirers to him. If that man moved any closer to Alfred, he would practically be humping him. And that was not okay. A dozen glazed eyed girls circling around Alfred like a school of fish around a coral is one thing, but no clown fish is allowed near his sea anemone. …That analogy did not even make sense. But the point was, it was time to intervene.
Except Alfred was looking this way, and now he was walking over.
“Hey there sexy. What are you staring at so intently?” He waved over the bar tender (the one with the eye condition) and asked for a water.
Ivan leaned over; close enough that the music humming in the club could not distort his words. “A very attractive blond, with rather tight pants that fit his bottom half quite well.”
“Oh yeah? Where can I meet this sex bomb?” Alfred grinned a picked up his drink.
“I think you already have.”
“Really? The only one of those I see around here is a hot Russian who looks like he’s never worn skinny jeans in his life.”
Ivan groaned, “That is why I barely fit in these pants? They are… clinging. And not in comfortable places.”
Alfred laughed, and it was music far better than the bass pounding through his bones. He grabbed Ivan’s hand and set down his glass, “C’mon. Let’s break in those jeans. They won’t be so tight after you work them in a bit.”
“But Alfred, I cannot dance.” Not like this. Ivan let himself be dragged to the edge of the dancing area anyway.
“Don’t worry about it, just move.” Alfred started demonstrating, rocking back and forth.
Ivan tried to mimic Alfred, swaying in mirror of him. He did not know what Alfred was talking about though. He felt like he was going to become sterile from this darn denim. Was that even possible? Castration from skinny jeans?
“There ya go, big guy. You’re getting the hang of it already.” Alfred stepped closer, closing the limited gab between them and resting his hands on his hips. “Just listen to the music, it’ll guide you along.”
Exposé (5/?)
anonymous
September 19 2010, 00:45:54 UTC
Ivan was not really sure what to do with his hands, he felt like he should do something with them. He rested them on Alfred’s shoulders, but they felt awkward and heavy. He tried to ignore the feeling and just concentrate on Alfred, the slight sheen clinging to his forehead and neck. Maybe he would get a chance to taste it later. His feet fumbled through their slow dancing, slow for a club anyway. It would be perfectly normal at a high school prom, but he was certain club dancing was suppose to be faster and more… something. Like what Alfred was doing before. Before, when that random cretin tried to molest him. Did he not know that only Ivan was allowed to molest Alfred, on or off the dance floor?
Ivan pulled himself forward and onto Alfred’s lips. Only he was allowed to do this. Alfred just pressed back gently before breaking away and laughing his ecstasy.
“What was that dance you were doing before? The one where you looked like you were ready to be molested?”
Alfred was laughing again, “What do you mean?”
“The one with the others pressing up against you.”
“What grinding? It’s not really a dance per se.” Then Alfred was smirking in his devious way, that promised good things for Ivan. “Do you want to grind with me?”
“Does Alfred want to teach me how?”
“I think you already know how to.” He ended it with a wink, and released Ivan’s waist. He turned his back to him, but pushed up against him, rolling his hips back slowly. Alfred’s hand found perch on the back of Ivan’s neck.
Oh. Ohhh. Yes. This was a dance that Ivan knew. It was also a dance he was very fond of. Though he liked it much better when they were both horizontal, and Alfred was panting under him staring up, instead of in front and looking away.
“Maybe later, big guy.” Alfred chuckled.
Really he must stop speaking so openly. Ah well. “Can it be later now?” Ivan rubbed his thumbs in small little circles on Alfred’s hips.
Alfred hummed, “I don’t know, this now doesn’t really seem like a later. It’s more of a ‘dance with the hottest thing in the room’ now.”
Ivan blew on Alfred’s ear before kissing it. He liked this now too, but he was really looking forward to the other now.
Alfred mumbled something that could have been for his ears or not and tilted his head forward. That seemed like an invitation to Ivan, who readily smothered the salty skin with kisses. He licked his lips at the taste of Alfred, brushing the tip of his tongue against his flushed skin. Ivan might not have noticed the short shiver that slithered down Alfred’s back if he had not been pressed right up against it. It was definitely later now, if the tightening fist in his hair and in his clinging pants were any indication.
With a short tug and a muffled “c’mon,” they were both stumbling off the floor and over each other.
They pushed open the door to the hallway under the lavatory sign, both pausing while their corneas contracted away from the normal lighting. They stumbled a few feet from the door before they simultaneously decided that was plenty of room for any alcohol-bloated patrons who might need to use the hallway to arrive at the advertised destination, and started attacking each other again.
It was hot and wet and the prefect mingle of vodka, rum, and cola. Ivan’s mind buzzed mutely, the part that was not driving him to find more skin, find more contact, more tongue, more kisses, more ALFRED, that he could enjoy that mixed drink.
A frustrated groan hummed against his lips, and Alfred’s were getting farther away, and Ivan let his own displeased grunt out. “Goddamn jacket. Why are you wearing so much?” Ivan’s lips found the underside of Alfred’s jaw instead. “I do not recall choosing this evenings attire.” The offensive material slide off his shoulders until is caught over the bend of his elbows. His own hands splayed over the warm, hot hot hot, skin of Alfred’s back, groping and raking as he arched into him.
Exposé (6/?)
anonymous
September 19 2010, 00:47:18 UTC
Alfred grumbled and abandoned his struggle with the buttons on the front of Ivan’s shirt and pulled Ivan’s scarf, exposing his neck, and lavished his attention there.
Ivan had never inserted his finger into an outlet before, but the blue flash of electricity stunned all the nerves from the small ‘o’ of Alfred’s lips to his head, back down to his toes, and straight up to hardness being ground into Alfred’s thigh. Alfred’s kisses are lightening.
Leather slid over his finger tips. Alfred loved these pants. He said they made his ass look like a grade A FDA approved piece of meat, which Ivan did not really understand. He did know that these pants were getting in the way of his goal, as his knuckles kneaded into that A grade, and his fingers traced that curve between his cheeks.
“F-fuck… Ivan…”
Pop! Went the snap, and Zzzzzz! Went the zipper, giving him enough spaced to trace that same path without a leather dampener.
“Fuck!” was followed by teeth clamping into his neck and Ivan surged forward, hips bucking without his permission and a low moan slipping past his lips. It did not help when gentle kisses and soft licks were placed over the small indentations there.
“AHHHHEM. Sorry to disturb you boys, but could you maybe move a few inches to the left?” It was followed by an almost school girl like giggle.
Alfred looked over Ivan’s shoulder and went red in the ears as three women stared back. The two in the back were laughing with each other, while the one who had clearly addressed the couple smiled knowingly. “You’re blocking the ladies room.” She gave as an explanation.
Looking up, Ivan saw that they were indeed leaning heavily on the door with a small picture of presumably a block woman. Alfred had decided to take refuge in Ivan’s shoulder, and buried his face there.
Ivan swallowed to clear some of the dryness in his mouth, smiled for the ladies, and shuffled Alfred and himself three steps to the left of the doorway.
The girls smiled pleasantly and thanked them, “Hope you’re still here when we get out.” One winked at them and disappeared behind the door. Ivan felt obliged to nod again, and kept smiling.
Ivan looked down at his embarrassed lover and prodded him a few times; unfortunately this prodding was done with the hand that was still in Alfred’s pants, quite close to his anus in fact.
Exposé (7/?)
anonymous
September 19 2010, 00:48:12 UTC
“Would you cut that out?” Alfred snapped, looking up at him. His ears were bright red and the color was leaking across his cheeks. It was a rather adorable picture and Ivan was compelled to kiss his blush, while Alfred groaned.
Ivan removed his offensive hand, instead settling to rub Alfred’s back comfortingly and try to kiss his shame away. Though it was probably the soft rocking of his hips that made Alfred groan again.
“Can we go home? Please? I’ve had enough humiliation for one night.”
He kissed his cheek again, “Da. Let us go home.” and gave Alfred some space, while he righted his own clothing, so it was not obvious what they had been doing. Ivan then attended Alfred’s own appearance before taking his hand and leading him back into the club.
They navigated through the crowd and out the front door. The clean air brushed over them and seemed to relieve some of the tension in Alfred.
Ivan hailed a cab, and opened the door, letting Alfred in first and then following him. He gave concise directions to the cabbie, and observed Alfred as they ducked into the night traffic.
Alfred was cradling his forehead in his hand, so Ivan took it from him and presented a short kiss to it.
“That was sooo embarrassing.” Alfred whined at Ivan.
“It was not too bad.” Ivan slid over to hug his distressed lover. “We will never see them again.”
Alfred groaned, “But stillllll. They’re probably going to go gossip to all their friends about these two hot guys that they saw making out in front of the girls’ restroom door. Oh my gosh! What if they took pictures? Did you see any of them with their cameras out?” He groaned again, “With my luck it will be all over the internet tomorrow and my boss will call me and there will be questions and then Iggy will call and there will be more questions. And then all the world will be asking questions, and at the next meeting they’re going to hang pictures on the bathroom door, so whenever anyone has to go, they’ll all see it, but it won’t matter cause everyone will have seen it al-“
Some times the most affective way to deal with Alfred’s miniature panic attacks was to just kiss them better. Plus they had the extra bonus of getting to kiss Alfred.
“You worry too much. They did not have a camera. They did not take pictures. No one will call, or ask questions.” Ivan punctuated each sentence with a kiss, with seemed to calm Alfred down.
“Y-yeah… I guess.” He leaned into Ivan. “Just no more public make out sessions.”
“…That means we can still have private ones, da?”
“Well duh.” Alfred leaned up and gave him a quick kiss.
Re: Exposé (7/?)
anonymous
September 19 2010, 20:52:06 UTC
Poor Ivan. Just when it was going good the ladies had to interrupt you.
I also agree with him: skinny jeans are EVIL. >8( Do not want!
I really like this story! I think it's really cute! And I love how Ivan keeps accidentally speaking his thoughts out loud. X3 I can see him doing that!
Poor American women. They must have crazy eye muscles. Always blinking. XD;
Re: Exposé (7/?)
anonymous
September 19 2010, 23:28:01 UTC
I very much want to be those girls right now.
That was so so hot anon. I still enjoy Russia's particular brand of jealousy here, the eye ailment Americans seem to have, and the cretin trying to hump AlfredXD...it makes me wonder what he'd do if someone were to be more...forward and agressive in their pursuit of Al's flesh.
And I desperately want to see what would make Al jealous, in return. But i can wait if sex is what's awaiting us
Re: Exposé (7/?)
anonymous
November 23 2010, 04:39:26 UTC
I really like how you're building up to the actual public act realistically, something I love in fanfiction. It makes it much more realistic for both partners to agree to public sex when they've been working up toward it rather than sudden deciding that they want to try it.
Plus, it was hot.
In all seriousness though, you write really well and I cannot wait for the next update.
Ivan sighed and sipped his drink, using it to mask his awkward shuffling. How did Alfred wear these jeans all the time? They were squeezing his butt and legs too much and riding his crotch uncomfortably. It is not as though he could adjust himself, not with the entire club full of people around.
He wrinkled his nose. The bar girl had promised him that he would enjoy the fruity pink drink, as she blinked her eyes in quick succession. (Did all American females have the same chronic eye ailment?) But he did not care for the diluted beverage, and would prefer having one of the bottles from the self. What was wrong with plain vodka? It was classic, like borscht on winter eves. Ivan tipped the glass to his lips and chugged the corn syrup laden beverage down, licking his lips free of clinging sugar and resting the glass on the bar.
Ivan’s eyes scanned to the floor. A dance club is not the place he would imagine having one of his date with Alfred, but he seemed excited for this new club. Expose, exposé? It was called something like that. He had not really bothered to pay attention as Alfred dragged him past the bouncer and tried to urge him to the dance floor. Ivan, however, was more content to stand by the bar and watch Alfred enjoy the loud music.
Alfred was an excellent dancer. He breathed the rhythm and the beat. Tempo and chorus were like dance patterns that twirled around him. It was a skill that helped him with more than dancing…
It also seemed to be attracting some admirers to him. If that man moved any closer to Alfred, he would practically be humping him. And that was not okay. A dozen glazed eyed girls circling around Alfred like a school of fish around a coral is one thing, but no clown fish is allowed near his sea anemone. …That analogy did not even make sense. But the point was, it was time to intervene.
Except Alfred was looking this way, and now he was walking over.
“Hey there sexy. What are you staring at so intently?” He waved over the bar tender (the one with the eye condition) and asked for a water.
Ivan leaned over; close enough that the music humming in the club could not distort his words. “A very attractive blond, with rather tight pants that fit his bottom half quite well.”
“Oh yeah? Where can I meet this sex bomb?” Alfred grinned a picked up his drink.
“I think you already have.”
“Really? The only one of those I see around here is a hot Russian who looks like he’s never worn skinny jeans in his life.”
Ivan groaned, “That is why I barely fit in these pants? They are… clinging. And not in comfortable places.”
Alfred laughed, and it was music far better than the bass pounding through his bones. He grabbed Ivan’s hand and set down his glass, “C’mon. Let’s break in those jeans. They won’t be so tight after you work them in a bit.”
“But Alfred, I cannot dance.” Not like this. Ivan let himself be dragged to the edge of the dancing area anyway.
“Don’t worry about it, just move.” Alfred started demonstrating, rocking back and forth.
Ivan tried to mimic Alfred, swaying in mirror of him. He did not know what Alfred was talking about though. He felt like he was going to become sterile from this darn denim. Was that even possible? Castration from skinny jeans?
“There ya go, big guy. You’re getting the hang of it already.” Alfred stepped closer, closing the limited gab between them and resting his hands on his hips. “Just listen to the music, it’ll guide you along.”
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Ivan pulled himself forward and onto Alfred’s lips. Only he was allowed to do this. Alfred just pressed back gently before breaking away and laughing his ecstasy.
“What was that dance you were doing before? The one where you looked like you were ready to be molested?”
Alfred was laughing again, “What do you mean?”
“The one with the others pressing up against you.”
“What grinding? It’s not really a dance per se.” Then Alfred was smirking in his devious way, that promised good things for Ivan. “Do you want to grind with me?”
“Does Alfred want to teach me how?”
“I think you already know how to.” He ended it with a wink, and released Ivan’s waist. He turned his back to him, but pushed up against him, rolling his hips back slowly. Alfred’s hand found perch on the back of Ivan’s neck.
Oh. Ohhh. Yes. This was a dance that Ivan knew. It was also a dance he was very fond of. Though he liked it much better when they were both horizontal, and Alfred was panting under him staring up, instead of in front and looking away.
“Maybe later, big guy.” Alfred chuckled.
Really he must stop speaking so openly. Ah well. “Can it be later now?” Ivan rubbed his thumbs in small little circles on Alfred’s hips.
Alfred hummed, “I don’t know, this now doesn’t really seem like a later. It’s more of a ‘dance with the hottest thing in the room’ now.”
Ivan blew on Alfred’s ear before kissing it. He liked this now too, but he was really looking forward to the other now.
Alfred mumbled something that could have been for his ears or not and tilted his head forward. That seemed like an invitation to Ivan, who readily smothered the salty skin with kisses. He licked his lips at the taste of Alfred, brushing the tip of his tongue against his flushed skin. Ivan might not have noticed the short shiver that slithered down Alfred’s back if he had not been pressed right up against it. It was definitely later now, if the tightening fist in his hair and in his clinging pants were any indication.
With a short tug and a muffled “c’mon,” they were both stumbling off the floor and over each other.
They pushed open the door to the hallway under the lavatory sign, both pausing while their corneas contracted away from the normal lighting. They stumbled a few feet from the door before they simultaneously decided that was plenty of room for any alcohol-bloated patrons who might need to use the hallway to arrive at the advertised destination, and started attacking each other again.
It was hot and wet and the prefect mingle of vodka, rum, and cola. Ivan’s mind buzzed mutely, the part that was not driving him to find more skin, find more contact, more tongue, more kisses, more ALFRED, that he could enjoy that mixed drink.
A frustrated groan hummed against his lips, and Alfred’s were getting farther away, and Ivan let his own displeased grunt out. “Goddamn jacket. Why are you wearing so much?”
Ivan’s lips found the underside of Alfred’s jaw instead. “I do not recall choosing this evenings attire.” The offensive material slide off his shoulders until is caught over the bend of his elbows. His own hands splayed over the warm, hot hot hot, skin of Alfred’s back, groping and raking as he arched into him.
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Alfred grumbled and abandoned his struggle with the buttons on the front of Ivan’s shirt and pulled Ivan’s scarf, exposing his neck, and lavished his attention there.
Ivan had never inserted his finger into an outlet before, but the blue flash of electricity stunned all the nerves from the small ‘o’ of Alfred’s lips to his head, back down to his toes, and straight up to hardness being ground into Alfred’s thigh. Alfred’s kisses are lightening.
Leather slid over his finger tips. Alfred loved these pants. He said they made his ass look like a grade A FDA approved piece of meat, which Ivan did not really understand. He did know that these pants were getting in the way of his goal, as his knuckles kneaded into that A grade, and his fingers traced that curve between his cheeks.
“F-fuck… Ivan…”
Pop! Went the snap, and Zzzzzz! Went the zipper, giving him enough spaced to trace that same path without a leather dampener.
“Fuck!” was followed by teeth clamping into his neck and Ivan surged forward, hips bucking without his permission and a low moan slipping past his lips. It did not help when gentle kisses and soft licks were placed over the small indentations there.
“AHHHHEM. Sorry to disturb you boys, but could you maybe move a few inches to the left?” It was followed by an almost school girl like giggle.
Alfred looked over Ivan’s shoulder and went red in the ears as three women stared back. The two in the back were laughing with each other, while the one who had clearly addressed the couple smiled knowingly. “You’re blocking the ladies room.” She gave as an explanation.
Looking up, Ivan saw that they were indeed leaning heavily on the door with a small picture of presumably a block woman. Alfred had decided to take refuge in Ivan’s shoulder, and buried his face there.
Ivan swallowed to clear some of the dryness in his mouth, smiled for the ladies, and shuffled Alfred and himself three steps to the left of the doorway.
The girls smiled pleasantly and thanked them, “Hope you’re still here when we get out.” One winked at them and disappeared behind the door. Ivan felt obliged to nod again, and kept smiling.
Ivan looked down at his embarrassed lover and prodded him a few times; unfortunately this prodding was done with the hand that was still in Alfred’s pants, quite close to his anus in fact.
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Ivan removed his offensive hand, instead settling to rub Alfred’s back comfortingly and try to kiss his shame away. Though it was probably the soft rocking of his hips that made Alfred groan again.
“Can we go home? Please? I’ve had enough humiliation for one night.”
He kissed his cheek again, “Da. Let us go home.” and gave Alfred some space, while he righted his own clothing, so it was not obvious what they had been doing. Ivan then attended Alfred’s own appearance before taking his hand and leading him back into the club.
They navigated through the crowd and out the front door. The clean air brushed over them and seemed to relieve some of the tension in Alfred.
Ivan hailed a cab, and opened the door, letting Alfred in first and then following him. He gave concise directions to the cabbie, and observed Alfred as they ducked into the night traffic.
Alfred was cradling his forehead in his hand, so Ivan took it from him and presented a short kiss to it.
“That was sooo embarrassing.” Alfred whined at Ivan.
“It was not too bad.” Ivan slid over to hug his distressed lover. “We will never see them again.”
Alfred groaned, “But stillllll. They’re probably going to go gossip to all their friends about these two hot guys that they saw making out in front of the girls’ restroom door. Oh my gosh! What if they took pictures? Did you see any of them with their cameras out?” He groaned again, “With my luck it will be all over the internet tomorrow and my boss will call me and there will be questions and then Iggy will call and there will be more questions. And then all the world will be asking questions, and at the next meeting they’re going to hang pictures on the bathroom door, so whenever anyone has to go, they’ll all see it, but it won’t matter cause everyone will have seen it al-“
Some times the most affective way to deal with Alfred’s miniature panic attacks was to just kiss them better. Plus they had the extra bonus of getting to kiss Alfred.
“You worry too much. They did not have a camera. They did not take pictures. No one will call, or ask questions.” Ivan punctuated each sentence with a kiss, with seemed to calm Alfred down.
“Y-yeah… I guess.” He leaned into Ivan. “Just no more public make out sessions.”
“…That means we can still have private ones, da?”
“Well duh.” Alfred leaned up and gave him a quick kiss.
Ivan was looking forward to getting home.
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SMEX NAO PLZ
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Poor Russia is such a saint putting up with America's unintentional cockteasing.
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I also agree with him: skinny jeans are EVIL. >8( Do not want!
I really like this story! I think it's really cute! And I love how Ivan keeps accidentally speaking his thoughts out loud. X3 I can see him doing that!
Poor American women. They must have crazy eye muscles. Always blinking. XD;
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That was so so hot anon. I still enjoy Russia's particular brand of jealousy here, the eye ailment Americans seem to have, and the cretin trying to hump AlfredXD...it makes me wonder what he'd do if someone were to be more...forward and agressive in their pursuit of Al's flesh.
And I desperately want to see what would make Al jealous, in return. But i can wait if sex is what's awaiting us
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Plus, it was hot.
In all seriousness though, you write really well and I cannot wait for the next update.
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