( what wouldn't nikolai do, to be free of his cage? nothing — but, ah, who wouldn't want to be free of the chains of emotion and guilt that bind us? his desperation to discard all that's earthly makes him comically easy to manipulate and goad — it's unfortunate, really, that he fell into fyodor's hands; that he fell for fyodor, having found some sort of understanding in the other, even though fyodor himself has never struggled with any of kolya's problems. emotions? feelings? guilt? no such things exist, when you're the god's chosen one — if he'd ever felt them, he's long since forgotten, turning into the perfect instrument of death.
but, ah — he's an instrument of perfection, too. of quelling the chaos — both around the world and within nikolai's heart.
to hear that he's loved — to hear that he's revered; it shouldn't matter, but in a way, it does. to know, full-well, nikolai means every word; he might be confused about the meaning of love, of what it means to love and what to expect, but his earnest honesty is plain to fyodor, and endears him to kolya in a way that makes him want to entrap the other forever.
a gilded cage, just for him to dance as fyodor commands — for all eternity. longer, even. )
It'll always be your choice. ( what to do with himself — but also, it won't be.
still, fyodor leans back as nikolai pushes him down onto the couch, feeling the sting in his neck and the burning sensation of a piercing wound, squeezed now with the other's long fingers. he gasps — and his eyes widen, as if panicked, though it's always hard to say whether he is or isn't surprised. he's an excellent actor, after all — and he allows himself this; a natural reaction, body tensing and expression falling, both hands wrapping around nikolai's wrists, as if he were in actual distress. )
Kolya, I can't — ( breathe, he wants to say, but — the taste of his own blood and the pressure of nikolai's tongue pushing into his mouth successfuly stop him from doing so, the other's weight pinning him down to the couch. is this what it's like, to be entirely helpless? he could free himself, if he were willing to kill nikolai — but he isn't.
not now.
instead, he returns the kiss; his own, fading heartbeat continues to thrum quietly in his ears, and he stirs, when his lungs begin to burn, vision blurring. his fingers remain coiled around kolya's wrists, but his grip fades, as the remnants of oxygen escape his mouth, small, choked sounds exhaled against nikolai's lips. )
no subject
but, ah — he's an instrument of perfection, too. of quelling the chaos — both around the world and within nikolai's heart.
to hear that he's loved — to hear that he's revered; it shouldn't matter, but in a way, it does. to know, full-well, nikolai means every word; he might be confused about the meaning of love, of what it means to love and what to expect, but his earnest honesty is plain to fyodor, and endears him to kolya in a way that makes him want to entrap the other forever.
a gilded cage, just for him to dance as fyodor commands — for all eternity. longer, even. )
It'll always be your choice. ( what to do with himself — but also, it won't be.
still, fyodor leans back as nikolai pushes him down onto the couch, feeling the sting in his neck and the burning sensation of a piercing wound, squeezed now with the other's long fingers. he gasps — and his eyes widen, as if panicked, though it's always hard to say whether he is or isn't surprised. he's an excellent actor, after all — and he allows himself this; a natural reaction, body tensing and expression falling, both hands wrapping around nikolai's wrists, as if he were in actual distress. )
Kolya, I can't — ( breathe, he wants to say, but — the taste of his own blood and the pressure of nikolai's tongue pushing into his mouth successfuly stop him from doing so, the other's weight pinning him down to the couch. is this what it's like, to be entirely helpless? he could free himself, if he were willing to kill nikolai — but he isn't.
not now.
instead, he returns the kiss; his own, fading heartbeat continues to thrum quietly in his ears, and he stirs, when his lungs begin to burn, vision blurring. his fingers remain coiled around kolya's wrists, but his grip fades, as the remnants of oxygen escape his mouth, small, choked sounds exhaled against nikolai's lips. )