( fyodor's an excellent liar — that much, nikolai knows.
still, for some reason — and this reason is unknown even to him, really — he refuses to lie to kolya about love. a personal preference, maybe — it'd be all too easy to simply go with the flow and falsely admit whatever feelings nikolai wants out of him, but — ah. where's the fun in that? to put the other at ease is hardly fyodor's goal, in any of this; if anything, keeping him on constant edge, constantly yearning for that final validation and never receiving it — isn't that just the most cruel torture of all?
and still, he's so good to him, regardless.
he can feel nikolai's thigh pressing between his own — the way his body tenses and goes slack, as air escapes lungs, a burning, desperate sensation blooming within his chest. it's all controlled, but — it feels new, still, to let go in any capacity, and the excitement of that can't be denied. he's undoubtedly flushed, pale skin tinted pink as his eyes shine something near-manic.
once he's free to breathe, he gasps — his vision blurs, black splotches where nikolai should be, and it takes him a moment to re-focus again, throat hoarse. he'll bruise, where nikolai squeezed — any sort of impact tends to leave long-lasting marks on an anemic body. )
It suits you, too. ( that excited, near-feral look nikolai gets, when things go his way. fyodor smiles; reaches up to... unbutton a few buttons of his shirt... scandalously so. it's warm, though; he's rarely one to say that. ) I'm beginning to think this side of you should be reserved for me alone.
( hum. )
What do you think, Kolya? How far are you willing to go to defile me?
no subject
still, for some reason — and this reason is unknown even to him, really — he refuses to lie to kolya about love. a personal preference, maybe — it'd be all too easy to simply go with the flow and falsely admit whatever feelings nikolai wants out of him, but — ah. where's the fun in that? to put the other at ease is hardly fyodor's goal, in any of this; if anything, keeping him on constant edge, constantly yearning for that final validation and never receiving it — isn't that just the most cruel torture of all?
and still, he's so good to him, regardless.
he can feel nikolai's thigh pressing between his own — the way his body tenses and goes slack, as air escapes lungs, a burning, desperate sensation blooming within his chest. it's all controlled, but — it feels new, still, to let go in any capacity, and the excitement of that can't be denied. he's undoubtedly flushed, pale skin tinted pink as his eyes shine something near-manic.
once he's free to breathe, he gasps — his vision blurs, black splotches where nikolai should be, and it takes him a moment to re-focus again, throat hoarse. he'll bruise, where nikolai squeezed — any sort of impact tends to leave long-lasting marks on an anemic body. )
It suits you, too. ( that excited, near-feral look nikolai gets, when things go his way. fyodor smiles; reaches up to... unbutton a few buttons of his shirt... scandalously so. it's warm, though; he's rarely one to say that. ) I'm beginning to think this side of you should be reserved for me alone.
( hum. )
What do you think, Kolya? How far are you willing to go to defile me?