Half-lidded, fatigued eyes made connecting deadbolt and key significantly more difficult that evening. When he heard the metal lock slide out of the door, he turned the knob and pressed his weight against the door and forced the door and frame in two parts. The light from the hallway spilled over the contours of his couch and kitchen counters. The rectangle of light he stood in formed about his Bon Séjour uniformed figure until he toed the door shut behind him, and shucked his messenger bag of clothes and client files onto the couch.
In the process of removing the top few buttons of his collared shirt, he made it halfway down the hallway leading to his bedroom. Every second step corresponded to a button - the shirt in two halves by the time he'd reached his bedroom with the intention of collapsing face-down on his mattress and drifting off into sleep. Until he flicked the light on and kicked off his shoes... into something that responded not with just THUD but "Ow."
Alfred did not need to see the Russian's leather that up close. He rubbed his cheek, looking up at Ivan meekly, smiling. "Hey..." he slowly got to his feet, not letting his eyes wander, merely trying to appear casual. As casual as one could in the situation of being found in an ex-lover's bedroom sneaking around to find secrets about him.
Now that he knew the previous flightpath of his shoe, he wished that he had kicked it off harder. His accusing eyes wandered up the American's physique, sidelong to his things to make sure everything was in its proper place, and then followed the latter path of his eyes with his feet, bumping up against the American to check the contents of his desk.
"Go on. Explain," he ordered to the blond standing behind his back - which wasn't a good idea, so he turned on his heel and half-sat on the surface of his desk to keep his vulnerability levels at a minimum. "Make me laugh before I amuse myself with the sound of your begging me for mercy."
bristling at the threat, but not taking the bait, Alfred took a concentrated step away from Ivan, tracing a finger along his bed, mind working furiously. What the hell could he say? Oh I just wanted to rummage around your house, see who you've been with, if anyone besides my uncle...
The idea was there just at the mere mention of Francis' name in his mind. His fingers splayed out on the bed. "I wanted to surprise you..." he murmured, sliding onto the bed.
His eyebrow quirked at the blaintant demand, his eyes in an awkward limbo between the necessary stern in response to Alfred's words, and a softness for the touch on his jaw. He visibly relaxed when he met the American's eyes, yet his hands clawed tight in the unkempt comforter. "Alfred," he breathed, "why does it matter so much to you... who I sleep with?"
"Because you're mine." The words had left his mouth before Alfred could even stop them, hell even understand them. But there they were, just splayed out in front of him, not hidden in his mind for his own perusal.
He slowly let his fingers pull away from Ivan's face, instead, running through his hair as he started to stand up. "H-Ha... looks like you don't even need any of those fancy mindtricks to see what's on my mind..."
"Sit down," he demanded, though made it less of an option by gripping the American's wrist not carding through his hair. "Freud believed that the a Freudian Slip, or slip of the tongue, is a temporary glimpse of one's conscious or semi-conscious desires..." he breathed in, then allowed a smile. A rather mischievous one at that.
"So I'm yours, da?" Ivan confirmed, resting his chin on his fist, and his elbow atop his crossed knees, watching Alfred with a curious albiet scrutinizing gaze.
Alfred flopped onto the bed, looking at Ivan, feeling his cheeks turn pink. he swallowed, shrugging while his head nodded. Stupid head, betraying him at a time like this. "I-I just-" he started, falling over his own voice. He tried to take a calming breath and correctly arrange the words in his mouth.
"I just meant that we... Are special to one another."
A smile characteristically formed, misplaced, at the sound of his name in such a tone, though it was hard to catch in such a shape, and his teeth might have invoked the arching reaction when making up for what his malleable lips could not. The Muscovite felt and tasted the knot of tension relieve itself, uncoil in Alfred's stomach. He breathed through his mouth in what seemed like the first time in a long time, wet and sticky, yet heavy like a burden on his shoulders still grazed with the attention of Alfred's fingernails.
When he moved up to capture Alfred's lips in a kiss, it was with the intent of infecting him with the same taste deliciously polluting his; slow and calculating, like their chess matches of phrase and metaphors.
Managing to gasp weakly into the kiss, Alfred wrapped his arms around the broad shoulder, forcing their lips closer together, ignoring his own sickly taste to attempt to get past and get to the core of the Russian's hot mouth. His lips were not near as calculating and thoughtful as Ivan, but wild and needy.
Reluctantly, he pulled back panting, his mouth practically dripping with the heavy breathes that raked his chest. Hands resting against the pale chest, he swallowed hard. "I-Is that it?" he murmured.
"'It'?" Ivan repeated through tidal waves of his breath. He let the barrel of his chest nest in Alfred's sturdy palms, and let no other part touch spare his bangs, hanging like drapery and teasing the furrowed lines in Alfred's forehead. Ivan licked his lips, raw with the taste of Alfred's teeth and their intermingling flavors. "Alfred, I've only just started with you."
Frustration and implication made unfastening his button into something more meticulous than feeding sewing thread through the eye of a needle. His zipper snapped and crackled like ribcages as he forced the black slacks down to bundle in the crook of his knees. It hurt feeling this much want, in the flush of his burning cheeks and the pulse in his pale white skin, his heart in his ears and conscious in his stomach; but he still fell for whatever this 'it' was, like a fly to honey, and let his head rest in the perfect, envied skin beneath Alfred's chin as he eased in, breath hitching in a gaping mouth and noiseless throat.
With no preparation, barely any warning, Alfred let out a slightly strangled cry, stealing the sound from Ivan and letting it sound from his own mouth. Pain seared in his inside and he panted, spine arching as his hips trip to squirm away from the intrusion. Hell, it hurt. He had had forgotten the absolute pain that came with this. his eyes were definitely warm, but nothing spilled over.
His chin bumped against the top of Ivan's head as his fingers clutched at his shoulder, arms folded against his chest, the chains digging into the backs of his triceps. A whimper slipped from his lip as, through all the pain, Ivan brushed that spot inside of him and he felt his toes curl with pleasure.
Comments 55
In the process of removing the top few buttons of his collared shirt, he made it halfway down the hallway leading to his bedroom. Every second step corresponded to a button - the shirt in two halves by the time he'd reached his bedroom with the intention of collapsing face-down on his mattress and drifting off into sleep. Until he flicked the light on and kicked off his shoes... into something that responded not with just THUD but "Ow."
"What the hell are you doing here?!"
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"There... is such a funny story behind this."
Reply
"Go on. Explain," he ordered to the blond standing behind his back - which wasn't a good idea, so he turned on his heel and half-sat on the surface of his desk to keep his vulnerability levels at a minimum. "Make me laugh before I amuse myself with the sound of your begging me for mercy."
Reply
The idea was there just at the mere mention of Francis' name in his mind. His fingers splayed out on the bed. "I wanted to surprise you..." he murmured, sliding onto the bed.
Reply
Reply
He slowly let his fingers pull away from Ivan's face, instead, running through his hair as he started to stand up. "H-Ha... looks like you don't even need any of those fancy mindtricks to see what's on my mind..."
Reply
"So I'm yours, da?" Ivan confirmed, resting his chin on his fist, and his elbow atop his crossed knees, watching Alfred with a curious albiet scrutinizing gaze.
Reply
"I just meant that we... Are special to one another."
Reply
When he moved up to capture Alfred's lips in a kiss, it was with the intent of infecting him with the same taste deliciously polluting his; slow and calculating, like their chess matches of phrase and metaphors.
Reply
Reluctantly, he pulled back panting, his mouth practically dripping with the heavy breathes that raked his chest. Hands resting against the pale chest, he swallowed hard. "I-Is that it?" he murmured.
Reply
Frustration and implication made unfastening his button into something more meticulous than feeding sewing thread through the eye of a needle. His zipper snapped and crackled like ribcages as he forced the black slacks down to bundle in the crook of his knees. It hurt feeling this much want, in the flush of his burning cheeks and the pulse in his pale white skin, his heart in his ears and conscious in his stomach; but he still fell for whatever this 'it' was, like a fly to honey, and let his head rest in the perfect, envied skin beneath Alfred's chin as he eased in, breath hitching in a gaping mouth and noiseless throat.
Reply
His chin bumped against the top of Ivan's head as his fingers clutched at his shoulder, arms folded against his chest, the chains digging into the backs of his triceps. A whimper slipped from his lip as, through all the pain, Ivan brushed that spot inside of him and he felt his toes curl with pleasure.
Reply
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