[ it's true they were never truly equal - during their scheme at the government office, nikolai was supposed to actually kill himself in front of the camera, a role he gladly decided to play because it's what fyodor wanted; he never questioned it, it simply seemed like something natural. he ultimately went against fyodor's wishes due to his own nature, but also... because if he died at that time, how would he know how fyodor reacted to it? how would he know if fyodor regretted it? if he missed him? maybe he was playing a prank on nikolai like god asking a devout to kill his children and test his loyalty.
it scared him how easily he accepted his orders, how easily fyodor could take his freedom away. yet nobody else had ever taken the time to get close to him like fyodor did. obviously he's being used, but... is that a bad thing? if he gets to spend more time with fyodor, does it matter? ...it should matter. fyodor obviously sees him as a replaceable pawn, as an inconsequential life form that has one or two good uses in him but that ultimately can be disposed of at the drop of a hat.
and that's where the dilemma starts. ]
Fedya . . .
[ oh, he knows there's no weight to fyodor's words at all. he's just goading him on as usual, but who cares? worrying enough about him to play along, to tell him what he wants to hear, to let him touch him and trust him enough to do this to him, to talk to him so sweetly because he knows that's what nikolai wants— isn't that the same thing he's doing for fyodor, too? and then, isn't that love? ]
Make no mistake, Fedya. I don't hate you. I love you so much I don't know what to do with myself. I want to be the one that ends your life, yet that would link our story together for eternity . . .
[ he pulls his face away from his neck, mouth bloody, looking down at him with a dizzy expression. he brings his hands lovingly towards his neck, wrapping his palms around it to stop the bleeding at the same time as he pushes him down onto the couch, and he begins slowly adding pressure to his grip. ]
No, Fedya, you show me. Let me see how you beg to me.
[ and to make it even harder to get any air, he leans down over his body with all his weight, planting a bloody kiss directly on his mouth, open and deep, pushing his tongue inside so he can taste his own blood. ]
no subject
it scared him how easily he accepted his orders, how easily fyodor could take his freedom away. yet nobody else had ever taken the time to get close to him like fyodor did. obviously he's being used, but... is that a bad thing? if he gets to spend more time with fyodor, does it matter? ...it should matter. fyodor obviously sees him as a replaceable pawn, as an inconsequential life form that has one or two good uses in him but that ultimately can be disposed of at the drop of a hat.
and that's where the dilemma starts. ]
Fedya . . .
[ oh, he knows there's no weight to fyodor's words at all. he's just goading him on as usual, but who cares? worrying enough about him to play along, to tell him what he wants to hear, to let him touch him and trust him enough to do this to him, to talk to him so sweetly because he knows that's what nikolai wants— isn't that the same thing he's doing for fyodor, too? and then, isn't that love? ]
Make no mistake, Fedya. I don't hate you. I love you so much I don't know what to do with myself. I want to be the one that ends your life, yet that would link our story together for eternity . . .
[ he pulls his face away from his neck, mouth bloody, looking down at him with a dizzy expression. he brings his hands lovingly towards his neck, wrapping his palms around it to stop the bleeding at the same time as he pushes him down onto the couch, and he begins slowly adding pressure to his grip. ]
No, Fedya, you show me. Let me see how you beg to me.
[ and to make it even harder to get any air, he leans down over his body with all his weight, planting a bloody kiss directly on his mouth, open and deep, pushing his tongue inside so he can taste his own blood. ]