Crash into me
Who: A young American and his doctor
When: October 23rd (2009)
Where: Alfred and Matthew's apartment
What: It's an awkward night of fiddling keys and arguments over the pants-wearer. Alfred and Ivan's first time is certainly memorable for all the wrong reasons.
Rating: M for sex and shenanigans
( I'm bare boned and crazy for you. )
When: October 23rd (2009)
Where: Alfred and Matthew's apartment
What: It's an awkward night of fiddling keys and arguments over the pants-wearer. Alfred and Ivan's first time is certainly memorable for all the wrong reasons.
Rating: M for sex and shenanigans
( I'm bare boned and crazy for you. )
Sometimes it saw so silent he felt as if he was alone. They still tip-toed around each other, found more comfort in the sound of the other's feet in the stairwell than each other's voices. It was a nice silence, not the kind that made his stomach twist in tension, but the kind that made the corners of his lips quirk when a single brush of Alfred's fingertips touched his skin; that touch was enough to fill the empty spaces between each conversation about the weather, or schooling, or therapy.
When he let their lips meet again that night - finally, after hours of staring at his lips when Alfred talked, knowing that he could only steal pecks when the other's eyes weren't on them - he felt a pang of familiarity at the back of his neck. It was a scene that they'd been through every Friday they went to dinner: Ivan would soon feel Alfred pull away, wish him a good night, and disappear behind the door. Ivan will walk down the hallway that suddenly seems 100 feet longer, walk out into the darkness and cold, and come home to his worried siblings...
But... that night the kiss was longer. He tasted caramel and pumpkin and coffee on his lips so strong that he could be drinking that latte and it wouldn't be as potent... then when he pulled away, Alfred was playing with his keys. His stomach fluttered again when Alfred asked him inside...
"I would love to."
Reply
Alfred was suddenly very aware of all his movements. The flick of his fingers to flip a switch to bring the entranceway into light. His jacket sliding off his arms and draping over a hook near the door, Ivan's quick to follow, nearly touching the ground from it's length. How his feet slipped out of his sneakers which were kicked unceremoniously against the wall to fall into a crumpled pile. The way his fingers reached down to the rim of his pants, pulling his tucked in shirt free, the first few buttons giving way to his fingers, revealing the grey wife beater underneath.
Clearing his throat as he led the Russian through the entrance way and to a small doorway leading to the kitchen. "Uh... Me and Mattie eat here..." he said quietly, gesturing at the small breakfast nook table, covered in their books from their classes and papers and other paraphernalia the pair had been too lazy to clean up. The fridge hummed and Alfred swallowed down the lump growing in his throat.
Past that was the darkened living room, the light from the hall barely reaching the comfy couch and scattered beanbag chairs. A small balcony rested outside, revealing the alleyway the apartments were backed onto. The TV was off, it's tiny red light glowing, lighting the room with the a dull crimson and Alfred rubbed the back of his neck. "Living room... Usually it smells like chips, sweat and beer but I think Mattie cleaned it up..."
Turning slightly to his right, Alfred stared at the door located directly across from the front door. Right there. It was blue. Navy. Whatever. He shifted, the old wooden floorboard creaking under his weight. His back found the door and he leaned against it, hand going to touch the brass doorknob.
His eyes watched Ivan's for a reaction. "And this is my room."
Reply
After fearing that his ankles were going to be caught up in the cords of PS2 controllers, Ivan met his significant other at the blue door. Even before Alfred announced what it was, something in Ivan knew, though a part of him wondered if Alfred's obvious nervousness would land the two of them in an eight-by-four space becoming intimately introduced to the shower curtain.
His eyes flashed with some sense of realization as Alfred twisted the knob and allowed him in. Ivan could feel the American's blue-as-his-bedroom-door eyes burning into his back as the Russian examined the mounds of textbooks and promotional movie posters, his stomach sinking a little when he remembered just how significant their age gap was - where there was a pile of homework, Ivan had a pile of client files; where there was a Superman comic book, Ivan had Tolstoy; and a map of North America meant a map of Eurasia. Alfred was so... young. Ivan was twenty-five. He could rent cars and Alfred has only been legal for a little more than a year.
He let his fingers trail absentmindedly along the rim of the desk, only just registering the sound of the door closing behind him. "It's very... you." That was all he could say.
Reply
"Thanks," he said quietly, "It's messy but- you know..." And he wasn't sure if Ivan did know. He didn't seem like the kind of man to have clothes laying amidst cords for his computer, books and whatever else the American had been too lazy to clean up. No, Ivan definitely cleaned up, had things organised and everything in neat lines.
Carefully he made his way over to the bed, stopped, then sat down. He looked up at Ivan and felt all the words and nervousness seize up in his throat and he was glad for the half-darkness because it hid his blush so well. His hands curled up on his knees, forming tight fists that turned the skin white. Words were still stuck, mouth not operating correctly.
He was scared.
Reply
As he thoroughly examined a photograph of Matthew with who he presumed to be Alfred's mother based off of her similar eye-color, he saw the shadow of Alfred against the wall shrink to half his height. Then he turned on his heel, still holding the picture frame delicately in his hands and trying to pretend he didn't notice Alfred's look in his peripheral vision. He paused, then placed the small frame back where it belonged, and approached the American... unsure if he should just stand before him, take a seat beside him, or take a seat... on him. He settled with second option, feeling it to be only slightly different than they way they sat while on the bus ride here. He could feel the slight tremors in Alfred's hand as he reached over to hold it.
No words, just... a light press of his lips to the other's knuckles.
Reply
It took him a while to look over their fingers before he finally met Ivan's eye. Now his heat had joined the words and apprehension in his throat, pounding hard against his Adam's apple and making it near impossible to swallow or breath or do anything except stare. He leaned forward, intending to kiss Ivan's fingers.
But he overshot. He lips pressed against the Russian's and he lowered their hands squeezing tightly. Free hand finding it's way into Ivan's shirt, curling there, he started to push Ivan back to the bed. Hovering over him,, his hand slid over his chest, to his shoulder and then to the bed near the pale-blond hair.
Another kiss, demanding, full and another squeeze of their locked hands.
Reply
The room flooded with the sounds of silence, the occasional keen, slow wet noises of tangling tongues... a sense of familiarity, but difference all the same. The hand in Alfred's hair carefully, tentatively curled around the plastic buttons of Alfred's dress shirt and popped two of them out.
Reply
He breathed against the Russian's mouth. "You know I've never had a man before..."
Reply
...only... they were backwards.
"Mm, I'll be sure to be gentle then..."
Reply
It didn't exactly take long for Alfred to figure out what Ivan meant. He went numb for a moment. "This," he said, pointing at Ivan's crotch, "Is not going in me. Not today. Not ever."
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
He glowered down at the Russian. "You're kinda ruining the mood."
Reply
Leave a comment