In Want of a Wife [part 6]
-&-&-
Chapter Six: "Success in marriage does not come merely through finding the right mate, but through being the right mate." Barnett R. Brickner
-&-&-
Berwald decided that he liked parties.
Tino's behavior, however alcohol-induced, was quite endearing. The little blonde hadn't left Berwald's lap. In fact, within the last few minutes, he'd begun to shift around and was constantly repositioning his weight on top of his "seat." Berwald found his wife's movements very arousing although he did his best to quell his body's instantaneous reaction.
"Wife, what's bothering you?"
"Vodka time!" Tino cheered happily, proudly presenting Berwald with his empty red cup.
"Mm." Berwald easily reached around his wife and plucked the raspberry vodka bottle from the coffee table in front of the couch. He poured Tino about two shots worth.
"Yay!" Tino grasped his own cup happily and knocked back the shots in one go. "More?"
"Wait a few minutes." Berwald ran a hand through Tino's sweaty hair.
Tino huffed unhappily, fidgeting on Berwald's lap.
"What's bothering you?" Berwald asked again.
"A wedgie."
"…what."
"You know, when your underwear rides up your ass." Tino gestured to his groin. "I'm wearing Feliks' panties that don't have a butt cuz my pants are too tight. It's like a perpetual wedgie."
Berwald blinked. "No butt?"
"Yeah, it's like they're butt-less. How do people sell butt-less underpants? How much are butt-less underpants?"
"I don't know."
"Why do people buy them?"
"I don't know."
"Feliks owns them. Should we ask Feliks?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"…more vodka?" Berwald distracted his wife easily. The swede was quite content to keep his wife on his lap, thanks.
"Oh, sure! I love vodka." Tino grinned, watching Berwald pour him another two shots. "D'you think that Francis has really fucked everyone on our floor?"
Berwald eyed his wife curiously. "No."
"Really? Cuz Arthur said he had." Tino blinked. "D'you… d'you think Arthur was lying?"
"Yes."
"Omigod. Omigod, Ber. We gotta tell someone. Cuz… cuz lying is bad."
"Mm." Berwald's lips twitched at his wife's complete horror.
"Have you ever lied?" Tino whispered accusingly.
"Never." Berwald lied.
Tino's expression lightened. "Good. I knew I could trust you."
"Mm."
Tino frowned and shifted his weight again. "Berwallld," he whined, "I really hate these pantiesss."
"I'm sorry."
"Can I take them off?" Tino had stumbled upon the only solution for his predicament. "Please?"
"Here?" Berwald looked a bit surprised. "No."
"Aw, why not? S'not like these guys haven't seen a dick before."
"Tino." Berwald hissed.
"What? What did I say?" Tino blinked innocently.
Berwald huffed and wrapped his arms tightly around his wife. "Your dick is mine."
"Oooh." Tino replied. "You got jealous cuz I was gonna strip?"
"Yes."
"Oooh. Then I won't. Don't worry!" Tino smiled happily. And pressed a hand to his head. "Oh dear."
Berwald looked at his wife, concerned. "What is wrong?"
"I just… whoa." Tino fell back against Berwald's chest. "What kind of vodka is that?"
"Raspberry."
"Maybe shouldn't of… wow." Tino looked dazedly up at Berwald. "You have blue eyes."
"Yes." Berwald replied, pressing his hand against Tino's brow in concern. He wasn't warm, but alcohol poisoning didn't cause fever. "Too many shots?"
"Too many?" Tino scoffed weakily. "Can never have too many-"
Tino passed out.
Berwald frowned.
He glanced around the room, looking for one of the two people he'd come with.
He spotted Feliks easily enough. He gently stood, lifting his wife in the proper bridal style manner with Tino's head tucked under Berwald's chin. He softly crossed the room, doing his best not to jostle the man in his arms.
"Feliks." Berwald said sternly.
The blond spun around from where he was chatting and dancing with Toris and that damn sexual predator.
"Hey Berwald! Oh." Feliks looked at Tino. "He fell asleep?"
"Passed out." Berwald replied.
"Oh, that's okay. Totally less lame." Feliks tittered. Berwald did not think the situation was nearly as amusing.
"I'm putting my wife to bed. May we switch rooms for the night so I can watch him?"
"Oh, aren't you just like the most precious thing!" Feliks squeaked. "Of course we can!"
Berwald realized that Feliks was also intoxicated and sighed. He looked to Toris for confirmation, and Toris nodded that he'd watch over Feliks.
With Toris' nod, he left the party and climbed the steps to return to Tino's dorm room.
Carrying Tino up four flights of steps from the basement to room 311 was no problem. Laying Tino down comfortably on his side on the top bunk was no problem, either. However, Berwald was concerned about Tino's undergarments.
Tino had been complaining about them. He'd wanted to take them off. Feliks' tight pants could not be comfortable sleepwear, and Berwald was not about to let Tino suffer any more than he had to. His wife was going to wake with an atrocious hangover, and Berwald would be damned if he'd also wake up uncomfortable in tonight's party clothes.
Therefore, the only logical conclusion was to remove his wife's clothing and replace it with more suitable nightwear.
The lights were dim in room 311, because even though Tino had technically passed out Berwald wasn't inconsiderate. Lights always bothered him when he was trying to sleep, and if Tino woke up the lights would add to his headache.
Berwald shuffled around his wife's dorm room, acquainting himself with the locations of all trashcans and extra trash bags (in case of a regurgitation emergency) as well as setting out a few aspirin and a vitamin.
Then he realized he was simply delaying the inevitable. Berwald needed to man up. His wife needed him. This was neither the time nor the place to be afraid of breaking his wife's trust by changing his clothes.
Berwald took a deep breath and approached his wife's closet.
He found a t-shirt and a plain pair of boxers quickly enough. That, however, was the easy part.
He climbed up the side of Tino's lofted bed, doing his best not to shake the piece of furniture. Tino was on his side, breathing normally.
Berwald didn't think he had alcohol poisoning. It was most likely a simple case of too much alcohol too quickly. His wife had not listened when Berwald explained hydration and moderation, and perhaps this would be a good lesson for the future.
Berwald took his wife's hand and gently tugged several bracelets from the still wrist. He put them in his trouser pocket. Then he decided to get the hard part over with.
He pulled Tino's shoes and socks from his feet. Berwald dropped them to the floor.
He pushed himself up, leaning over his wife carefully so he was balanced between the ceiling and Tino's bed. He tenderly placed one arm behind Tino's head, his knees straddling Tino's prone form.
Berwald's eye twitched as he stared at the top button of his wife's jeans.
Well, damn. Now or never.
He undid the button and tugged the fabric apart, revealing a zipper and a trail of light peach fuzz coating Tino's stomach. His fingers shook as they pulled down the zipper.
Berwald sighed, reaching around his wife and tugging down on the pants, hoping they'd come easily and not disturb Tino.
To his dismay, Feliks' tight pants were tight. Very tight. And they hardly budged when Berwald pulled on them.
Berwald realized that he was going to have to put his hands inside Tino pants to be able to work the fabric down over Tino's hips.
He nervously slid one hand down Tino's back and over his ass. Tino shifted slightly, moaning in his sleep, and Berwald's face flushed with arousal. The other hand gently worked itself under Tino's side in order to get the jeans out from beneath Tino's weight.
Berwald worked efficiently, but gradually and lightly because he didn't want to wake his wife.
The jeans finally came off, and Berwald blinked at the sudden understanding of Tino's drunken complaints.
His wife was wearing a thong. As in, women's panties. Berwald blinked at Tino's pink silk-encased package and realized he was really, really embarrassed. This was really, really embarrassing and hopefully Tino would not ask questions tomorrow and would not tell Feliks because if Feliks found out the entire campus would know.
Berwald didn't think he'd ever blushed so violently. He was sure his cheeks were flaming.
And fucking hell he really did not need an erection right now. Fuck.
He grasped the edges of the thong and averted his eyes. Then he pulled the garment down past Tino's ankles in one swift motion.
Quickly, he snatched the boxers from where he'd placed them and slid them back up Tino's form.
Berwald was sweating furiously. He'd tried desperately not to look at his wife's private regions.
He had failed miserably, of course. His erection had not dissipated; in fact, if anything, he was even harder.
Berwald sighed heavily and tugged Tino's party shirt off. He gently pulled the clean shirt over Tino's head and moved Tino's arms through the sleeves.
Mission accomplished.
Berwald pushed himself off of Tino's mattress and climbed back down the lofted bed.
Standing up, he was about eye-level with Tino's sleeping face.
He leaned against the lofted bed, staring at his wife's relaxed face. He was so beautiful. Everything was so beautiful. Berwald smiled and raked his fingers through Tino's hair.
Even though he was hard as a rock, this was not the time for frivolous self-pleasure.
His wife needed watching. His wife needed him. Berwald would be damned if anything could stop him from taking care of his wife.
-&-&-
Feliks was having a good night.
Contrary to Berwald's hypothesis, he was not nearly as drunk as he appeared. He needed to stay conscious because if Toris was going to fuck him tonight he was going to remember every single damn detail, exactly every damn inch of Toris' body. He had waited so long for this; alcohol was not going to fuck up his memory.
Feliks was beyond excited when Berwald carried Tino off like a knight in shining armor. Not only were his cute Nordics finally moving forward in their relationship, but he and Berwald were like switching fucking rooms!
What better opportunity to get with Toris was there? Like none!
Feliks had seriously had to bit his tongue at Toris' stuttered greeting and mangled compliment. Toris liked his ass! Damn straight. Bitch had a hot ass.
Feliks smiled serenely, more lovesick than drunk.
"Toris!" Feliks bounced over to his man, placing his chin on Toris' shoulder. "Torisss."
"Feliks?" Toris laughed, spinning around to address his friend. "How are you?"
"Not totally drunk." Feliks replied. "I'm sleeping with you tonight, after all." He said through heavy-lidded eyes.
"So you are." Toris rolled his eyes.
Feliks was slightly disheartened at Toris' brush off. "Can't be too drunk. Don't want to miss out on that."
Toris shrugged and resumed his conversation with Eduard and some giant hulking creepy guy. Feliks sighed.
He wandered away from Toris-after all, he was going home with the fool. Why not make Toris find him? Why not make him a bit jealous?
Feliks smirked, eyeing the potential around the room.
Before he could decide upon any course of action, an arm slung around Feliks' shoulders.
"Why the long face, ma petite?"
"Francis." Feliks laughed delightedly. Who better than to flirt with?
"Oui?"
"How do you like being a resident advisor?" Feliks asked, struggling for small talk as checked over his shoulder to see if Toris was watching him.
Francis raised his brows as he tugged Feliks towards the dance floor. "I think there are better uses for our mouths, ma chérie."
Feliks laughed.
Francis was a complete charmer. Feliks enjoyed dancing with him very much, so much so that his seduction of Toris was pushed to the back of his mind.
-&-&-
Toris, on the other hand, was far more intoxicated than Berwald had guessed.
He blinked at Ivan, who was grinning at him smugly.
"I win." Ivan replied.
"No way." Toris replied back, slurring his words horribly. "No way."
Ivan grinned cheekily. "You are so drunk you can barely stand."
"I can shtand. I shtand just fine." Toris shot back.
Eduard rolled his eyes and slid an arm under Toris to help keep the man upright. "You shouldn't participate in drinking contests with Russians. Especially if the drink used in the contest is vodka."
Toris pouted. "But I wash so close?"
"He outdrank you three shots to one." Eduard corrected. "It was not close."
"I won. I will claim my prize." A glint flared in Ivan's eyes as he studied the room. He waited patiently for the right moment.
Toris was shaking. What was the prize again? Honestly, he didn't remember. Ivan just said "drinking contest" and Toris had already been a little drunk and why the hell not?
And then Ivan was right in his face. Toris blinked suddenly, jerking back, but Ivan was holding his face.
The Russian smashed his lips to Toris', and Toris was too surprised to pull away.
-&-&-
Feliks stared at Toris from across the room. Toris, who said that he would never kiss another man because he wasn't gay. Toris, who said that kissing Feliks was the only kind of man-kissing he would ever admit to. Toris, who was kissing a different man. Right. Over. There.
Feliks gasped in pain. Because it was painful. He felt like his stomach had dropped so far in his belly that it was totally hanging out with his feet. He felt nauseous. Completely horrible.
And nothing else changed. Toris didn't push the guy away. Toris wasn't protesting. The sight was so devastating to Feliks, capturing his attention even in a room full of dozens of people doing dozens of things and a self-proclaimed awesome DJ who was blaring out awesome music.
Even over all the noise Feliks was pretty sure he could hear his heart shatter.
(Part Five)
(Part Seven)