Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The polished obsidian floor of Fyodor’s penthouse apartment reflected the muted city lights filtering through the floor to ceiling windows, a vast, silent testament to sterile wealth.

Nikolai lounged on the white leather sofa, a stark splash of color in the monochrome space, his tailored charcoal suit jacket draped carelessly over the armrest.

His modesty was as always nonexistent, and so was his knowledge of personal space.

Fyodor stood near the panoramic view, a glass of amber liquid catching the distant glow, his posture rigid even in repose.

He wasn't tired, even though they just attended one of the longest infiltration missions in his whole carrier.

Fyodor felt the opposite from tired, but he kene better than to stick his head out of their hideout now

"The extraction went cleaner than anticipated..." Fyodor stated, his voice a low and resonant that seemed to absorb the ambient silence rather than pierce it.

"Right?" Nikolai straightened up and his eyes lit up. "I was really great this time!"

"Yes, you didn't ruin my plans this time." Fyodor agreed.

"Ow, Cmon, not even a praise?" Nikolai pouted mockingly and lunged back to the soft sofa.

Nikolai twirled a silver strand of his long hair between his fingers, and his other hand found a lighter in his pocket.

"It was... Very clean mission, I must say." Fyodor said in the end and sipped from his sweet wine.

Nikolai watched Fyodor’s reflection move across the glass window.

"Mmh... Clean. Always clean with you, Fedya. Like a surgical incision."

"And what's wrong with that?" Fyodor sighed, sensing criticism from his partner in crime.

"Where is the art?" Nikolai used the same tone just to irritate Fyodor, but he didn't let himself be baited this time.

Fyodor turned slightly, the movement economical, his eyes, the color of freezing corpse, fixing on Nikolai.

"Art is subjective... Success is quantifiable. We secured the asset. That is the goal."

"Boooring. Where's the thrill?" Nikolai pressed, letting the lighter snap shut with a sharp clink.

He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, his expression a mask of bored arrogance.

"Did you feel nothing when Kostievs’s security guard realized the vault was empty? Not a flicker of satisfaction?"

"I felt the satisfaction of a contract fulfilled. What kind of question is that, Kolya?" Fyodor replied, taking a measured sip of his drink yet again.

Nikolai's presence always required strong nerves.

Fyodor didn’t move toward Nikolai, maintaining the distance that usually served as a buffer between them, a distance Nikolai found increasingly frustrating tonight.

Why, he didn't know.

 

"Odd questions are my signature, darling... You know this." Nikolai purred and stood up, the smooth action of his tailored trousers left a whisper against the leather.

He moved toward Fyodor, slow, predatory, closing the carefully maintained gap inch by calculated inch.

"Don't act like you hate me." Nikolai whined, but his face betrayed something more than the usual dramatic flair.

Fyodor’s gaze remained steady, unwavering. "I'm simply tolerating your presence, Nikolai. Don't flatter yourself in thinking I'll give you more than that."

"Oh, don't be so sure..." Nikolai stopped directly in front of him, close enough now that he could smell the faint, expensive scent of Fyodor’s single malt scotch and the sharper, almost metallic tang of his expensive cologne.

He reached out, not to touch Fyodor’s face, but to pluck the empty glass from his hands. The contact was brief, a sudden transfer of warmth.

"You’re being mean. What a shame. And I wanted to be nice today..." Nikolai murmured, setting the glass down on a nearby glass topped table with a soft
thud.

Fyodor sighed, a barely audible expulsion of air that nonetheless felt heavy in the quiet room.

"Unlike you, I'm trying to mentally navigate our next step in the mission."

"Really?" Nikolai let out a short, humorless laugh. "My dear, calculated Fyodor. Tsk... Look at you. Stiff as a board, eyes fixed on the horizon, all tight and depressed."

Nikolai stepped closer still, his body brushing against Fyodor’s side. The contact was electric, a sudden jolt of unwanted attention that Fyodor usually managed to ignore with practiced ease.

Tonight, Nikolai felt a stubborn resistance in the man’s frame.

"Should I change that?"

"... Move." Fyodor commanded, his voice dropping to a lower register, a warning.

"No." Nikolai’s voice was soft, dangerously close to Fyodor’s ear. He inhaled deeply, savoring the subtle scent of his partner, the slight increase in musk beneath the expensive soap. "I want your attention. Now."

"I can't be here every time you want me to... I have reports to review."

"Reports can wait. I, in fact, can't. And won't." Nikolai slid his hand up Fyodor’s chest, resting it lightly over the crisp fabric covering his sternum.

He felt the solid beat of Fyodor’s heart beneath his palm, rapid, steady, betraying nothing. "You won't get much work down with me around, and you know it."

Fyodor finally broke eye contact, his gaze flicking down to where Nikolai’s hand rested. A muscle twitched near his jawline.

"What is it you truly want, Nikolai? Stop circling around it like a cat, and state your objective."

"The objective is you, dear... I didn't think I'd have to point it out to my beloved genius." Nikolai purred, his fingers flexing slightly against the expensive weave of Fyodor’s vest, slipping underneath it.

He didn’t wait for a response. Nikolai leaned in, his mouth finding the sharp angle of Fyodor’s jaw.

He didn’t kiss him so much as he claimed the space, pressing his lips firmly against the cool skin, tasting the faint saltiness there.

Fyodor remained utterly still for a beat, a statue carved from expensive granite. Then, a slow, almost imperceptible tension coiled in his shoulders.

Nikolai pulled back just enough to look into those challenging eyes. "Am I already getting through you?"

"... No."

"Don't lie."

"... You are interrupting my concentration."

"Good." Nikolai smiled, a genuine, predatory flash of white teeth.

He slipped his other hand around the back of Fyodor’s neck, fingers threading into the shorter, dark hair at the nape.

He tugged gently, just enough to tilt Fyodor’s head back, exposing the long, vulnerable line of his throat.

"You insult me, Fedya... Do you think I don’t see the way your pupils dilate when I stand too close? The way you grip your glass just a fraction tighter when I'm around?"

Fyodor let out a sharp, involuntary breath, the first real sign of distress. "That just proves you're an awful distraction for me."

"Just like our little trip to Canada." Nikolai giggled at thee memory, and for a second leaned away.

"Don't remind me." Fyodor rolled his eyes.

"Oh, but I must! The tactical miscalculation that left you breathless against a marble fireplace, begging me not to stop, was really... Priceless." Nikolai countered, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, savoring the memory that clearly still haunted the colder man.

"... I hate you, do you know that?"

"You’re a terrible liar, Fyodor. You always have been. You just hide it behind quarterly earnings reports and flawless logistics."

"Says a man who hides his true self behind a clown costume."

Nikolai slid his hand down Fyodor’s neck, tracing the line of his collarbone, pushing the silk tie aside.

He leaned in again, this time aiming for the mouth. Fyodor’s lips parted just as Nikolai’s descended, a silent invitation that contradicted every verbal denial.

The kiss was immediate, demanding.

Nikolai didn't waste time on gentle exploration. He drove into Fyodor’s mouth, his tongue immediately seeking purchase, sweeping past the resistance of Fyodor’s firmly held jaw.

Fyodor’s initial stiffness melted away with shocking speed, replaced by a desperate, hungry response.

He tasted like expensive scotch and something sharp, vital, like ambition distilled into liquid form.

 

Nikolai sucked hard, pulling Fyodor’s breath into his own lungs, ignoring the sound of their mingled gasps.

He moved his hand from Fyodor’s neck to his chest, tearing at the buttons of the silk shirt with impatient fingers.

The sound was satisfyingly violent in the quiet apartment.

"Don't ruin my clothes again." Fyodor hissed and pulled away, trying to slap Nikolai's strong hands away.

"You look better without them anyways." Nikolai purred and pinned his hands behind his back.

"Will you pay for it, perhaps?" Fyodor lifted his eyebrow at him in annoyance, seeing his check half exposed with ruined buttons missing.

"Depends on what form of payment do you take, Fedya..." Nikolai smirked.

"... You always rush the beginning." Fyodor managed to articulate against Nikolai’s mouth that already claimed another kiss, his own hands finally coming up, gripping Nikolai’s shoulders with surprising strength.

"Because the beginning is the only place where you admit you need me." Nikolai retorted, breaking the kiss only to trail scorching kisses down the exposed column of Fyodor’s throat.

He felt the pulse hammering wildly beneath his lips.
Nikolai pushed Fyodor back against the cool glass of the window, the city lights blurring behind the sudden intimacy.

Fyodor’s expensive suit jacket bunched awkwardly, but he didn't seem to notice. His eyes were dark now, the ice finally melting into something turbulent and hot.

"Don’t play games with me, Nikolai." Fyodor warned, though the sound was breathy, his control fraying at the edges.

"Oh, but I must!" Nikolai breathed, his hands already working at the buckle of Fyodor’s tailored trousers. "Games are the only way I can force you to stop thinking and start feeling."

 

Nikolai flipped the buckle open, the metal cool against Fyodor’s warm skin.

He didn’t bother with the zipper immediately. Instead, he slid his hands beneath the expensive fabric of Fyodor’s trousers, finding the hard, unyielding curve of his erection already straining against the fine material.

"Look at you..." Nikolai whispered, his voice thick with sudden, intense focus. "All that control, all that calculation, and yet, I only have to look at you to make you hard."

(mind you, I'm writing this while actively failing my
license)

 

Fyodor let out a low, guttural sound, a noise Nikolai recognized as suppressed frustration battling arousal." You have an irritating effect on my equilibrium."

" Good. Equilibrium is the enemy of ecstasy." Nikolai yanked the zipper down, the sound loud in the silence. He pushed the fabric aside, exposing Fyodor, pale and magnificent against the dark backdrop of the night view.

Fyodor’s cock was thick, already slick with pre-ejaculate, straining against the confines of his boxer briefs. It was a perfect specimen, rigid and heavy, demanding attention.

Nikolai didn't rush to take it into his mouth. He knelt before Fyodor, the expensive rug soft beneath his knees, and simply observed. He admired the way the light caught the sheen on the head, the slight tremble running through the shaft.

Fyodor’s breath hitched. "... Kolya, I am tired of this."

"Patience, my love."

"I don't have that right now with you." Fyodor grabbed Nikolai's long hair, tangling his hinders in the messy locks.

"Do you want me that badly?"

"I wouldn't say badly, but I think the answer is obvious."

"Then! You must earn the right to that surrender." Nikolai reached out, his thumb grazing the sensitive ridge just below the helmet of Fyodor’s cock. A visible shudder ran through Fyodor’s thighs.

"Beg for it." Nikolai whispered, leaning close, not touching the length of him yet, just brushing his lips against the hot skin near the base.

Fyodor’s jaw tightened. "I do not beg."

"Never say never... You will." Nikolai traced the line of his thigh, the skin there soft despite the man’s rigid discipline.

"You will beg for the release you crave so desperately, or you will stand there all night, proud, but aching, while I admire your excellent self control."

He stood up suddenly, turning his back on Fyodor’s rising arousal. He walked back to the sofa, picked up his jacket, and began methodically putting his arms through the sleeves.

" What are you doing?" Fyodor’s voice cracked, the composure finally shattering into sharp, panicked fragments, but annoyance seeped through. He didn't expect Nikolai to deal with him like this.

He was Fyodor Dostoevsky, he always got what he wanted.

"Well! Seems like I'm not needed. Sooo... I am leaving." Nikolai announced calmly, straightening his cuffs. "As you said... The mission is completed. My evening plans are open, but they do not include watching you struggle against an urge you cannot suppress."

"Oh, go fuck yourself with that." Fyodor cussed and fixed his clothes.

"I might! But you won't be able to finish without me. And we both know it."

Fyodor moved then, a burst of sudden, desperate motion. He crossed the distance between them in three long strides, grabbing Nikolai’s arm, his grip bruisingly tight.

"Don’t you dare." Fyodor ground out, his face inches from Nikolai. His eyes, usually so cold, were dark pools reflecting only Nikolai. "Don’t you walk away when you know precisely what you’ve done to me."

Nikolai allowed himself to be held, a slow, satisfied smile spreading across his face. He let the silence hang, letting the tension build until Fyodor was visibly shaking.

"Know what I’ve done?" Nikolai prompted softly, tilting his head, inviting the next plea.

Fyodor swallowed hard, the movement visible in his throat.

The polished, wealthy magnate, the man who commanded boardrooms and black operations, looked suddenly vulnerable, stripped bare by a single, deliberate act of psychological warfare.

And that annoyed him greatly.

Usually, Nikolai was the needier one, the one who couldn't wait until the act was fully in action. So Fyodor wasn't used to being told no in this matter.

He hated the game Nikolai created, but mrke he hated that his body played right into it.

"I need it. We both do." Fyodor admitted, the words barely audible, laced with a deep, unfamiliar shame that thrilled Nikolai to the core.

But to make Nikolai feel shame, his eyes slid down to Nikolai's own suppressed erecrion.

"That’s not enough." Nikolai purred, his voice dripping with mock disappointment.

He gently pried Fyodor’s fingers from his arm, stepping back again, forcing Fyodor to maintain the distance while his body screamed for proximity.

"You need to ask properly. You need to tell me what you’re going to do for me once I grant you that pleasure."

"... There's no way you just told me that." Fyodor stood frozen, breathing heavily, his arousal throbbing visibly beneath the thin fabric of his trousers. He stared at Nikolai, a battle raging in his eyes between pride and overwhelming physical demand.

Damn, Nikolai was hot, taking control of the situation like this.

Fyodor didn't know he could get atracted to someone else telling him what to do, but secretly feel done he craved it, even though he was the one who usually played the mastermind.

"Well, I did."

"You're delusional, then." Fyodor whispered, the word tasting foreign on his tongue.

He closed his eyes briefly, gathering strength. When he opened them, the calculation was gone, replaced by a stark, naked desire.

"Beg me for it, dear." Nikolai insisted, his voice strained, drawing out the moment until Fyodor’s resolve finally snapped.

Who would have though that Nikolai's voice would be this powerful in his mind?

Fyodor could already feel his erecrion throb in his pants, but the shame was slowly leaving his body, as the desire overtook his senses.

He bit his lip, and felt his cock throb, the sensation sending pulses of small excitement through his body. The image of what Nikolai would have done to him, already flooding his, very creative, mind.

Which didn't really help his case, since that only built his arousal to not only uncomfortable, but unbearable.

Fyodor’s composure broke like thin ice under a heavy boot. He dropped to one knee, not in deference, but in surrender to his own body’s betrayal. The expensive wool of his trousers scraped against the obsidian floor.

"Goddamn it, Nikolai...." Fyodor hissed, his voice thick with forced humility, his eyes locked on Nikolai’s face, watching for any sign of mercy. "I.. Ugh... Just, just fuck me. I need to feel you inside me."

Nikolai’s breath hitched. The sound of Fyodor, the untouchable, the cold, uttering those raw syllables, was the sweetest victory.

He didn't expect this to work at all. In fact, Nikolai expected Fyodor to only mock him and top him instead.

But thus? This was heaven on earth....

And Nikolai would definitely take advantage of this as much as he could.

"And?"

"... And what."

"You know want to hear."

".... I'll kill you after this." Fyodor bit his tongue and took a deep breath, already thinking of ability users who could erase memories. "I'd do anything."

"Anything?" Nikolai tested, stepping forward, placing his foot deliberately against Fyodor’s chest, pushing him down slightly onto the hard floor.

"Anything." Fyodor confirmed, his hands gripping the fabric of Nikolai’s trousers near his knee, anchoring himself.

 

Nikolai left Fyodor alone for some time now, and put his foot back onto the ground. He wouldn't want to fall on his ass accidentally now. Instead, he began unzipped his own trousers with a slow, deliberate rasp of metal.

He pushed his erection free, hard, thick, and ready, the head glistening darkly under the apartment lights.

"Good boy." Nikolai praised mockingly, bending down, taking Fyodor’s face between his hands. He pressed a hard, possessive kiss onto Fyodor’s lips, forcing the taste of his own saliva onto the man who had resisted him for so long.

"... Shut up with that. "Fyodor's face twisted. In humiliated disgust." Don't ever call me that again. "

"Shhhh babe."

 

Nikolai pulled back, letting Fyodor look at the size of him, the sheer, undeniable reality of what he was about to receive.

"You will serve me first." Nikolai beamed, his voice taking on a deeper, more commanding resonance. "You will show me how much you want this control I hold over you."

Fyodor didn’t hesitate this time. The need was too urgent. He released Nikolai’s trousers and reached for the waistband of his own, pulling them down with a swift, practiced motion until they pooled around his ankles.

His body was smooth, toned from rigorous discipline, his erection jutting upward, slick and eager.

Nikolai stepped back, allowing Fyodor a moment to appreciate the view, before returning to his task.

He grabbed Fyodor’s hips, pulling him forward until Fyodor was positioned just right, his mouth hovering near Nikolai’s cock.

"Open." Nikolai ordered.

Fyodor rolled his eyes at him, but he opened his mouth as he was told. But he thought to himself that he definitely didn't do it bevause he was commanded to do so, but because he knew this was the shortest cut to his own release.

Parting his lips, his tongue darting out tentatively, tasting the musky scent of arousal. He didn’t dive in immediately; he savored the anticipation, licking slowly along the underside of the shaft, teasing the sensitive ridge.

"Slower." Nikolai teased, his fingers digging into the taut skin of Fyodor’s waist. "Now you're the one who's rushing... I wonder why."

"I'll bite your dick off, if you won't let me do it as I want." Fyodor snarled.

"Hahah, but you said you'd do anything. So... Slow down and taste what you are about to beg for."

Fyodor obeyed with heated humiliation and resistance building in his mind, drawing his tongue back, then circling the head with deliberate, maddening slowness.

He used his lips, sucking gently, drawing a thin line of pre-cum onto his tongue before finally taking the head into his mouth.

The sound of wet suction filled the air, as Fyodor began to work.

He kept his throat open, taking Nikolai deep, his jaw working rhythmically, his eyes closed in concentration.

Nikolai watched him, fascinated by the depth of Fyodor’s capitulation. This calculated man, reduced to this primal act of servitude.

Nikolai gripped the back of Fyodor’s head, guiding the pace, setting a rhythm that was deliberately too fast, pushing Fyodor past comfort, toward the edge he was forbidden to cross.

"Deeper, love. Show me you mean it."

Fyodor’s rhythm faltered, a slight gasp escaping as he tried to accommodate the depth. He pulled back slightly, his eyes flying open, wide and dark.

He didn't know why his own arousal was inky rising, but it did. Perhaps it was because Nikolai's sounds only praised his work. Maybe it was even the fact that Nikolai looked so good with Fyodor's head wrapped around his cock.

Fyodor didn't know, and he tried his very best not to think about it. Because he feared soemthing even far more humiliating would happen if he did.

"Oh, I know..." Nikolai purred, his hips pressing forward, driving deeper into the man’s mouth, as if he could read Fyodor's mind.

Which wasn't so hard, since his feeling were plastered all over his face, unusual sight to see.

Nikolai pulled out abruptly, the thick shaft slick with saliva, the sound of separation echoed through the room.

He stepped away, letting Fyodor sit back on his heels, mouth agape, saliva dripping onto the pristine rug.

"Don’t you dare to try and walk off again." Fyodor choked out, already over the games Nikolai played with him today.

Fyodor reached out to grab Nikolai's thigh, ready to just tackle him to the ground somehow and claim what he wanted.

Nikolai slapped his hand away, the sound sharp and stinging. "Aw, you're already ruining your promise."

 

Fyodor froze, hands hovering uselessly in the air, his chest heaving. His own cock throbbed, slick and desperate for friction, for release, for Nikolai’s attention.

"......" Fyodor managed, his voice strained, laced with genuine pain. "I sulpose I forgot the parameters."

Fyodor knew if he didn't adresa thus, Nikolai would only escalate thus further. And he felt his patience running thin each second that passed.

Nikolai walked around him, his own arousal still throbbing, still contained.

He walked behind Fyodor, who was still kneeling, exposed. Nikolai reached down, grabbing a handful of Fyodor’s dark hair, pulling his head back slightly so that the angle exposed the smooth, tight skin of his ass.

"You are going to learn patience." Nikolai said, his voice vibrating with anticipation.

"You should learn how to please me first." Fyodor shot back, not even trying to play into Nikolai good side thus time.

"Speak like fhsh, and I'll teach you what my services dictate."

Nikolai shamelessly sat behind Fyodor, and pushed him. The sudden collision surprised Fyodor, who didn't expect it and lost his balance, falling a bit forward. He would have caught himself just in time, but Nikolai used his portals, and pushed him onto his hand and knees.

 

Fyodor was already wet, a sheen of clear lubrication glistening between his tight cheeks.

"I want to feel you stretch around me." Nikolai whispered, leaning down to kiss the sensitive skin just above Fyodor’s tailbone.

Nikolai's tongue slipped inside Fyodor first, and Fyodor tried his very best to stay still, but tře sensation sent shivers down his spine, his already standing cock aching.

Nikolai didn't wait for Fyodor to even get used to his tongue, mapping the soft space all over, pressing against his stretching walls.

And if Fyodor made some pathetic sounds, the history better not refer about it.

"... Don't tease me and fuck me already." Fyodor whined, his back arching, once Nikolai pushed his tongue evn deeper.

Nikolai smirked and pulled his tongue out, biting the flesh of Fyodor's ass harshly. "So needy today." he teased and licked the wound.

But, even Nikolai was growing too eager for this.

He didn’t use his hands to guide himself in. He used the weight of his hips, pushing slowly, deliberately, against the tight ring of Fyodor’s sphincter.

" Relax... "Nikolai whispered teasingly, though he knew the word was meaningless. Fyodor’s muscles clenched instinctively against the intrusion.

Fyodor grunted, pressing his forehead against the cool surface of the ground, back aching.

Nikolai pushed harder, grinding his hips forward until the head of his cock found purchase. Then, with a slow, controlled surge, he pushed past the initial resistance.

The sound of tight flesh yielding was incredibly intimate.

Fyodor cried out, a sharp, strangled sound that was closer to a moan than pain.

Nikolai didn't wait for him to adjust, already moving, sinking another inch.

He felt the heat, the tightness, the desperate grip of Fyodor’s internal muscles around him.

But then he paused, buried halfway, allowing Fyodor’s body to adjust to the foreign invasion. He could feel the internal throbbing, the pulsing of Fyodor’s own arousal against his length.

“You are so tight Fedya... ” Nikolai observed, his voice husky, savoring the sensation of being held captive by Fyodor’s body.

"And why do you think that is..." Fyodor managed, before he moaned again, his mind too clouded with pleasure to even conjure proper though.

Nikolai pushed the rest of the way in, a final, deep thrust that elicited a shuddering groan from Fyodor. Nikolai filled him completely, settling his hips against Fyodor’s backside, feeling the hard ridge of Fyodor’s own cock pressing against his stomach.

"Now, we wait." Nikolai leaned against Fyodor's body, his voice heavy with determination. He didn’t move, allowing the sheer presence of him to overwhelm Fyodor’s senses.

"... What is fhat supposed to mean." Fyodor exhaled with annoyance, the arousal that was building inside him almost expanding.

He tried to move, to shift his hips to find a better angle, but Nikolai held him anchored by the waist, his hands firm and unyielding.

"Ugh... Move already, or let me do it, if you're not capable." Fyodor hissed, his upper body collapsing slightly against the ground.

"No. I'm in control of your orgasm, and I simply think you're not worthy yet."

"... I'm not begging again Kolya." Fyodor hissed and tried to move again, but to no use. Nikolai was stronger after all.

Fyodor considered chopping Nikolai's body after thus, limb by limb. But the thought didn't bring him as much satisfaction as he thought it would.

"Hahah,you don't have to. Stillness is my domain. Agony is yours." Nikolai began to move then, not in deep thrusts, but short, grinding circles, keeping the entry point tight and excruciatingly sensitive.

He focused on the prostate, knowing where it was precisely, from nights before spent together, pressing against it with the base of his cock.

The sound of Fyodor’s heart seemed to almost be heard in the room.

Nikolai grinder harder, pulling back just enough to tease the entrance before slamming back in.

"Fuck... I want to..." Fyodor gasped, his voice ragged.

"Oh, you do, don’t you?" Nikolai chuckled, the sound low and arrogant. He stopped moving entirely, holding himself still inside Fyodor, letting the pressure build to an unbearable point.

Fyodor let out a choked sound, his body arching upward against Nikolai’s weight." Enough...! Or I'll castrate you later."

"You'd miss my cock later, so I don't think you would." Nikolai leaned down, his lips brushing the sensitive skin of Fyodor’s neck, savoring the slick sweat there.

"You haven’t told me anag you want properly yet. You’ve only stated a half sentence."

He began to withdraw, slowly, agonizingly, pulling out inch by inch, exposing the thick head, stopping just before full withdrawal. Fyodor whimpered, his entire body trembling, his own cock jumping wildly.

"Say it, count be shy..." Nikolai commanded.

Fyodor was panting, his breath coming in shallow, desperate gasps. He pushed his face into the glass table, the cool surface a small relief against his flushed skin.

"... Just let me come." Fyodor cried out, the cold veneer completely gone, replaced by raw, desperate pleading.

Nikolai felt a profound satisfaction bloom in his chest. This was the real Fyodor, stripped of his armor, utterly dependent.

"Say it like you mean it, Fedya. Like your entire world depends on the sound of my voice granting you permission."

Fyodor squeezed his eyes shut, his hips bucking uselessly against the floor. "I need you to fuck me harder, Kolya. Please..."

The sound of the last word echoed in the silence, potent and intoxicating.

"There it is..." Nikolai breathed, a triumphant smile touching his lips. He didn’t pull out. Instead, he drove forward with a single, deep thrust, burying himself to the hilt.

"Now." Nikolai closed his eyes, barely holding up as well, his voice deep and rough. "Take it all."

He began to move with a sudden, violent urgency, thrusting deep and hard, ignoring the friction, focusing only on the internal pressure he was building within Fyodor.

Nikolai hammered into him, each thrust a claim, each withdrawal a promise of deeper penetration on the next stroke.

The sounds of their bodies meeting were loud, wet, and immediate.

Fyodor screamed, a high, involuntary sound of pure shock and pleasure that echoed off the vast glass walls. "... Oh, God! Yes... Faster!"

Nikolai obeyed this time, as he was in the verge of insanity too, his movements becoming primal, ignoring the elegance he usually favored.

He pounded into Fyodor’s yielding depths, feeling the internal contractions begin to seize around him.

Fyodor’s hips rose off the floor, his back arching so high Nikolai could see the desperation in the strain of his neck muscles. His own cock twitched violently, slick and trembling.

Fyodor bit his lip, before any more awful sounds could come out, the orgasm seizing him with brutal force.

His entire body locked around Nikolai, squeezing him tight, a desperate, shuddering climax ripping through him.

He cried out Nikolai’s name, a strangled, broken sound of surrender.

Nikolai felt the intense, convulsive spasms of Fyodor’s body grip him, the internal wetness contracting rhythmically around his shaft. It was exquisite, watching the machine break down under the pressure he applied.

He thrust two final, deep times into the pulsing heat, emptying his own tension into the man beneath him.

Nikolai gasped, collapsing forward, resting his weight on Fyodor’s back, breathing heavily against the warm skin of his neck. "Now that's art."

They stayed like that for a long moment, the only sounds their ragged breathing and the slow, sticky *shhhluck* as Nikolai slowly began to withdraw from the slick heat of Fyodor’s interior.

When Nikolai finally pulled free, Fyodor remained on the floor, utterly spent, slick with sweat, his own spent cock dripping onto the dark floorboards.

Nikolai stepped back, zipping himself up with calm deliberation, smoothing his jacket. He looked down at Fyodor, who slowly pushed himself up onto his elbows, his face flushed, his eyes still dazed.

 

"I loathe you." Fyodor blinked slowly, gathering the remnants of his composure like scattered shards of glass.

"Love you too." Nikolai blew him a kiss.

Fyodor pushed his hair back from his forehead. He looked at the evidence of his surrender on the floor, the wet sheen on the black marble where his seed had dripped.

He finally managed a small, genuine smirk, a flicker of the old Fyodor returning, but tempered now with something new, a grudging respect mixed with lingering arousal.

"You are insufferable, Nikolai." Fyodor managed, his voice still hoarse, but carrying a new, almost playful edge.

He pushed himself into a sitting position, pulling his trousers up halfway, ignoring the mess.

Nikolai walked back to the sofa, picking up his discarded jacket sleeve.

He paused, turning back to look at the man kneeling amidst the wreckage of his composure. “Now, Fyodor. Since you begged so nicely for release… Maaaybe, we could take a shower together?"

Fyodor met his gaze, his eyes still dark with residual need, the coldness replaced by a slow-burning heat.

He tugged his trousers fully up, straightening his ruined shirt with a sigh that held more promise than complaint, walking go the bathroom by himself.

"Don’t push your luck." Fyodor murmured, his voice regaining some of its former resonance, though it was underscored by a deep, satisfied exhaustion.

Chapter Text

The air tasted of ancient dust and wet stone, a heavy, cold drape settling over Fyodor’s skin.

He registered the low thrum of a distant ventilation system, the faint, metallic scent of rust, and the pressure points where rough hemp rope bit into his wrists and ankles, securing him to a hard, wooden chair.

His eyes, already adjusted to the gloom, mapped the small, windowless space.

Concrete floor, cinder block walls painted a peeling, institutional gray, a single bare bulb hanging high above, casting harsh shadows that stretched and crawled like panicked insects.

Annoyance, cold and sharp, replaced the momentary confusion of waking. What was all of this for?

Fyodor was annoyed and cold on top of that. And, he was tied up.

Great, all the things he hated.

Just his luck.

Thankfully, Fyodor knew the culprit behind this won't let him wait for a long time until he reveals himself.

And soon enough, figure emerged from the deeper shadows behind a stack of forgotten crates, a whirlwind of white linen and theatrical flourish.

Nikolai, of course. Who else would employ such dramatically inadequate staging?

And who else would be bold enough to kidnap the devil mastermind, Fyodor?

Well... Many tried, but none lived long enough to tell the tale of Fyodor's greatness, sadly. Yet, Fyodor already knew Nikolai won't meet the same fate as the others.

Why was that, he didn't even dare to think.

"Ah, Fedya, you wake just in time for the greatest show!" Nikolai chirped, his voice bouncing off the hard surfaces, sounding far too bright for the subterranean setting.

He wore a crisp white suit, utterly immaculate, contrasting absurdly with the filth of the room.
A crimson feather, ridiculously long, jutted from his lapel.

Fyodor tested the ropes, a slight, almost imperceptible movement, noting the friction burn.

He was tied up to a chair, his ankles and wrist bound to it tightly. And yes, Fyodor knew many tricks how to get out of this situation.

He could even manipulate Nikolai to let him go without a fight, but....

..... He was awfully curious about what Nikolai has prepared.

Because if the clown has a talent in something, it was entertaining Fyodor.

So, he decided to allow the silent torture of the cold room, and endured the rotting smell and dust just for a few minutes longer.

"The show of what, precisely?" Fyodor’s tone was level, bored. "From what I'm feeling, I'd sooner catch a cold than a glimpse of something great."

Nikolai stopped, one hand resting dramatically over his heart, feigning offense.

"Oh, you wound me! I chose this place specially for my dearest rat. Don't you think it's romantic?"

"Indeed, dying of pneumonia is very romantic."

"Fedyaaa, agh! Shhh, don't ruin the mood."

"No can do. It speaks here of cheapness and chafing." Fyodor countered, tilting his head slightly, hair falling into his face, assessing the knot work. "Huh, why do I have feeling this is a bit familiar?"

"You're just imagining it." Nikolai quickly rushed with an answer, waving his head.

He acted as if he didn't watch the tape milion times. What tape? Well, the one from Port mafia, where they foolishly decided to free Fyodor from his cell.

And... Upon stumbling on that single video, Nikolai started to have these wild fantasies about chaining his partner in crime, and.... Even locking him up, only for himself to see.

But then rationality came over, and he quickly came to better solution.

Which was this one.

Nikolai was just about to speak but Fyodor beat him to it.

"And if you intended to keep me here, permanently, as your dramatic monologue suggested when you draped that chloroform-soaked cloth over my face, a surprisingly pedestrian tactic, by the way, you have overlooked several crucial elements."

Nikolai moved closer, his polished black shoes clicking sharply on the concrete.

He leaned in, his wide, unnatural smile fixed in place, the usual manic energy vibrating beneath his skin.

The clown knew how Fyodor played. He knew his usual tactics, and he wasn't about to be caught in one.

No, he knew his partner better than that.

"Crucial elements? Do elaborate, my captive genius. I thought I had secured the perfect, isolated lair."

"Lair you say..." Fyodor lifted his chin and looked at Nikolai with half lidded expression, smug about this situation.

"A lair suggests secrecy, invisibility. Yet, I can already detect the faint, irregular vibration of a nearby generator, indicating reliance on an external power source that requires maintenance and fuel delivery."

"Oh, really? Go on, then. Entertain me more."

"I will, thank you. The air, though damp, is stale, meaning this space is not frequently aired or used, but the quality of the concrete indicates it is structurally sound, likely a sub-level storage unit of an industrial complex built post-1970. The lack of acoustic dampening means any significant noise, say, a desperate scream, would carry."

Fyodor paused, his dark eyes meeting Nikolai’s bright, mismatched gaze.

"And you, Nikolai, are the biggest flaw in your own plan."

 

Nikolai laughed, a sharp, metallic sound, but the high pitch strained at the edges.

"Me? How so? I am the master of ceremonies! The jailer! The key to your permanent residence." he gestured broadly around the grimy room, unimpressed by Fyodor's slevách whatsoever.

Again, be saw Fyodor use this each time they were on a mission together. So there was no way he'd fall for it and be baited into Fyodor's game.

Not when he had a game of his own in mind.

"You are predictable, vain, and incapable of true isolation. You crave an audience, Nikolai. You would not simply lock me in a hole, you would stand here, expecting me to be impressed, expecting me to struggle, expecting a performance. Fyodor continued, his voice dropping slightly, laced with genuine contempt,

The smile finally slipped from Nikolai’s face. The vibrant energy in the room did not dissipate, instead, it curdled into something tighter, sharper. He stepped forward until his shadow enveloped Fyodor.

"Always so clever, always dissecting the magic trick." Nikolai whispered, the playful lilt gone, replaced by a low, dangerous rumble. "You strip everything bare, don’t you? You expose the wiring, the cheap paint, the effort."

"The truth is rarely as glamorous as the illusion, Kolya. You should know that better than anyone."

Then, with a shocking value, the whole room echoed with the sound of a flesh on flesh motion.

 

The sound was shockingly loud in the confined space, a sudden, brutal punctuation mark.

Fyodor’s head snapped sideways, the impact rattling his teeth.

A sharp sting blossomed across his cheekbone, immediately followed by the warm, thick taste of copper where his inner cheek met his molars.

Silence.

The hum of the ventilation seemed deafening.

Nikolai stood frozen, his eyes wide and dark, breathing heavily through slightly parted lips. His hand, still slightly raised. Nikolai's lips slowly rose upwards again.

Well, he didn't want to do exactly that, but it certainly felt good.

Fyodor slowly turned his head back, his expression unchanged, save for the sudden flush of red spreading across his pale skin.

He looked directly at Nikolai, not with fear, but with a sudden, profound interest.

"Ah." Fyodor whispered, his voice slightly breathy, almost a sigh. "Now that was a genuine reaction. Not performance. Not theaterics."

A slow, dangerous heat began to coil in the pit of Nikolai’s stomach, mirroring the unexpected jolt of pleasure that shot through Fyodor at the sudden violence.

The slap had been an act of pure, frustrated emotion, a break in the arrogant facade. It was exhilarating.

Nikolai dropped his hand, flexing his fingers, his eyes blazing with a mix of guilt, arousal, and renewed fury.

"You pushed me." he accused, the words empty of any rage or thread.

"I just analyzed your failure. That is what I do." Fyodor licked the blood from his lip, his tongue darting out briefly.

"Tell me, was that meant to intimidate me, or was that simply the release of tension because I pointed out that you are fundamentally incapable of executing a truly perfect crime?"

"It was meant to remind you who is the boss here." Nikolai snarled with a smirk, leaning closer, his breath hot against Fyodor’s bruised cheek.

"And who is it, pray tell."

"Me, my love... You are not the analyst right now. You are the object. The prize. The bird in the cage I built just for you."

"The cage is flimsy, Kolya. And the bird is quite capable of biting the hand that feeds it."

Nikolai seized a handful of Fyodor’s dark, fine hair, tilting his head back sharply, exposing the vulnerable line of his throat.

Fyodor did not struggle, he simply met the intensity of the gaze. He knew Nikolai wasn't about to harm him seriously. He expected quite the opposite from this.

And, truth to be told, he didn't hate it. But, he'd much rather be the one in Nikolai's place.

Which.... Could be arranged after some time.

Fyodor already began to plot his revenge.

"You think you know me so well, Fyodor... You think you can always see the joke, the trick, the flaw."

"I do, yes." Fyodor agreed and leaned into Nikolai's touch, just to irritate him.

"But you never see the darkness until it swallows you whole." Nikolai’s voice was low, seductive, and truly threatening now. "You will stay here.. You will learn to crave the touch of the man who owns you."

"So you own me now too?" Fyodor tried, but it seemed Nikolai didn't want to let himself slip this time.

Ugh, what a bummer.

"And if you try to escape, I will make you regret every single calculation you have ever made."

"Such an empty threats." Fyodor scoffed in the end, though the grip on his hair was tight enough to pull tears to his eyes now.

"You enjoy this ‘owner’ dynamic too much Kolya. It’s transparent..."

Nikolai wanted him to play the victim, but he know Fyodor despised weakness.

Nikolai wanted him to beg, but he know Fyodor only offered measured disdain.

Nikolai want him to break, but he knew Fyodor was already fragmented in ways he couldn't comprehend.

"Transparent, huh?" Nikolai whispered, his fingers moving from Fyodor’s hair to trace the swelling bruise on his cheek.

The touch was agonizingly light, a contrast to the previous violence.

"I know that the colder you act, the hotter the fire burns beneath your skin."

"Well, I'm pretty cold now, thanks to you." Fyodor's eyes trailed Nikolai's every move.

"Fedya, hush. Don't ruin my monologue... I know that you enjoy this game of control precisely because you know I am the only person who would dare to try to joo this to you."

"And you enjoy the fact that I let you." Fyodor admitted, his voice barely audible, a thread of dark silk.

"I very much do, yes..." Nikolai admitted as well.

His hand found Fyodor's lips, and he put his hand against Fyodor's lips. Fyodor felt confusion, since he didn't feel like Nikolai wanted to silence him.

But the next action Nikolai did sent familiar shiver down his spine... And it wasn't a pleasant feeling.

It reminded him of his human emotions he tried so much to supress.

Nikolai leaned in, and kissed Fyodor's covered lips.
Then, he pulled away, as if nothing hapenned.

"Where were we, my dear?" Nikolai cleared his throat.

"... I was about to say something mean to you." Fyodor managed to say and look away, as thjs singular gentle act seemed to break the roleplay fbwd had going on so far and brought them back tor reality of their own feelings for a few seconds.

And now both of them tried to recover as quickly as possible.

"Then, go on. Continue." Nikolai cooed.

"... Well, before... That happened, I am very sure I was about to say... You love that I tolerate your arrogance, your childish games. You need me to validate your chaos, Kolya."

Nikolai rolled his eyes, but the words still seemed to get to him. He had to remind himself that this is who Fyodor was as a man.

He was here for a different reason than to discuss about his inner issues after all.

Nikolai straightened his back, taking a step back, the manic energy returning, but now it was focused, predatory. He circled the chair slowly, his eyes never leaving Fyodor.

"We are done talking about logistics. Fedya. Now, we talk about pleasure. My pleasure, specifically, and... Your submission."

"Submission is a dull concept, Kolya. I prefer complicity."

"Complicity, then." Nikolai conceded, snatching a piece of rough, thick velvet rope from a nearby shelf. It was black, heavy, and smelled faintly of leather polish.

"My hands are already tied." Fyodor rolled his eyes. But, he had to admit, the material of that rope would feel way nicer than this thick and biting one.

"I wouldn't notice without you, thank you..." Nikolai said sarcastically. "It's not like I was the one who brought you here and bound your limbs."

That statement made Fyodor pause.

Huh.

He didn't even think about.... That.

About Nikolai being alone with his unconscious body, about Nikolai handling him and bringing him here.

And, weirdest of all, he didn't even feel any bruises or broken bones from Nikolai's careless transport.

Which meant, he had to be very careful with Fyodor while he transported him here.

For some reason, that made his head spin. So he forced himself not to think about it.

Nikolai approached Fyodor from behind, leaning down until his lips were right next to Fyodor’s ear.

"Tell me, my clever little prisoner, what happens when I use this rope to bind your hands higher, until your shoulders scream in pain? Will that shatter the illusion of control?"

"I'll just get more annoyed." Fyodor replied, his voice even as Nikolai began to work the new restraints.

Fyodor let him untie his hands, and already planned on jumping front and clawing his eyes out.

But... It seemed that once again Nikolai proved himself stronger and faster. He caught his hands mid try, and looped the fabric around his wrists, quickly and skillfully binding them together.

Fyodor was left wondering, how many times has Nikolai done this, to be this precise and measured with it.

Nikolai then ties the rope to the metal pipe on the wall, securing Fyodor's hands up.

And indeed, Fyodor's shoulders and wrist did not like it, as his circulation was slowly cutting short.

The stretch was instantaneous, pulling his chest taut.

"You should be quicker next time." Nikolai hissed, running his knuckles over the stretched tendon in Fyodor’s forearm. "Your words won’t loosen this knot, will they? Words won’t stop the ache that is already blooming."

"The ache is temporary. Your need for this validation is eternal."

Nikolai chuckled, a genuine, delighted sound this time. He moved around to face Fyodor again, pulling a small, heavy silver key from his pocket. It glinted under the bare bulb.

"And you, my love, are eternally mine. Now, I have a choice to make. I could leave you here, alone in the dark, hungry and aching, to reconsider your defiance. Or I could begin your re-education immediately."

"If you leave, I will spend the time deducing the trajectory needed to knock the lightbulb down, which will lead to the entire house burning down."

Nikolai threw his head back and laughed, loud and unrestrained.

"You'd really rather die with me, than be in a cold room for some time? Very well. Re-education it is."

He knelt before Fyodor, his white trousers brushing against the concrete dust.

His eyes, fixed on Fyodor’s, were alight with a fierce, possessive hunger. He reached out, not to the ropes, but to the buttons of Fyodor’s shirt.

"You are so busy pointing out the holes in my plan, you haven’t realized the only hole that matters is the one I intend to fill."

(this sentence almost made me kms while editing this btw)

Fyodor swallowed hard, the sharp taste of blood still lingering.

"Vulgarity does not suit you, Kolya. It lacks your usual flair."

"It suits the moment." Nikolai countered, tearing open the shirt buttons with a quick, rough movement, sending the small pearl discs scattering across the floor.

The cool air of the basement immediately hit Fyodor’s bare skin. Nikolai’s hands, surprisingly warm, settled on Fyodor’s ribs, pushing the fabric aside.

Well, at least he was warm. Fyodor could get used to the touch, if it was only to warm up his body.

He definitelly didn't imagine Nikolai's body wrapped against his, totally not.

"You are so pale." Nikolai murmured, tracing the sharp angle of Fyodor’s ribs, one by one. "Like porcelain waiting to be cracked. Tell me, does the pain in your shoulders distract you from the anticipation that is surely building lower down?"

"You really think I'd be into this?" Fyodor lied smoothly, though the blood was beginning to rush hot beneath his skin, pooling in places he couldn’t hide. The tight stretch of his arms made him acutely vulnerable, his chest exposed and his breathing slightly shallow.

Nikolai’s hand dropped lower, tracing the line of the waistband, then dipping beneath the fabric of Fyodor’s trousers. Fyodor gasped, a quick, sharp intake of breath.

"Don't you know lying is a sin, Fedya?" Nikolai purred, his fingers closing around the growing hardness beneath the thin cloth. "The body betrays the brilliant mind, doesn’t it, my love?"

Fyodor only managed to bite his lip, and threw his head to the side, hair covering his face yet again. But this time it at least brought him some sense of safety.

"All that cold disdain, and yet, your cock responds exactly as mine demands."

"... It responds to physical stimulus, a purely biological function."

It was not an indicator of emotional investment or surrender. Not at all, no. Fyodor Dostoevsky wouldn't be into this. Never.

Nikolai leaned in, his mouth close to Fyodor’s ear again, his tongue tracing the delicate curve of the shell. His fingers never stopped slowly trace the edges of Fyodor's shaft, toying with the rising veins.

"We can argue about this later... Right now, your biological function is telling me that you want me to continue."

He pulled back, his hand still tight around Fyodor’s erection, rubbing the sensitive length through the cloth. The friction was immediate and intense, bordering on painful due to the roughness of the trouser material.

"I hate that you can see through me, Fyodor." Nikolai admitted, his voice a low, throaty growl. "I hate that you know I am obsessed, that I built this whole silly stage just to get you alone, tied up, and focused only on me."

"Your self-awareness is your most irritating quality...." Fyodor returned, his voice tight. His hips shifted involuntarily against the restraint of the chair. "It prevents me from truly enjoying your humiliation when I escape."

"But you won’t escape yet. Not while your cock is this hard in my hands." Nikolai released the pressure, only to slide his hand beneath the waistband, pulling down the zip with a deliberate, slow rasp of metal.

He freed Fyodor’s penis, which sprang free, thick and throbbing, slick with pre-come.

The change in temperature against the exposed, sensitive skin made Fyodor shiver. The sight of Nikolai, the arrogant, beautiful fool, kneeling before him, dedicated entirely to his arousal, sent a dizzying wave of dark desire through him.

Nikolai smirked, his voice dark with possessive pride. He took the length of Fyodor into his hand, cupping the heavy sack beneath. "Perfect. You are mine, Fyodor... Every inch of this brilliant, cold body belongs to me right now."

He bent his head, not immediately taking Fyodor into his mouth, but running the tip of his tongue along the sensitive crease where the head met the shaft.

The wet, hot touch was electric.

The sound was loud and visceral. Nikolai worked immediately, his technique aggressive, his throat accommodating a shocking depth.

He thrust his head forward, pulling back just enough to scrape the ridge of Fyodor’s glans with his teeth, then plunging down again.

The sensation was overwhelming, amplified by the painful stretch of his arms above him.

 

Fyodor groaned, a low, guttural sound he hadn’t intended, his head falling back against the chair. The pain from the ropes and the pleasure from Nikolai’s mouth were merging into a confusing, exquisite agony.
“
Nikolai growled, a deep, frustrated sound, and resumed his work with renewed violence.

His tongue swirled around the tip, then he began a rapid, rhythmic motion, mimicking the thrust of intercourse.

Saliva coated Fyodor’s cock, making the friction slick and hot. The sounds of Nikolai sucking and gulping filled the small basement, mixing with Fyodor’s increasingly ragged breathing.

 

The pressure built rapidly. Fyodor felt his vision narrow, focused only on the frantic movement of Nikolai’s head and the insistent, demanding pressure on his most sensitive nerve endings.

He was completely at Nikolai’s mercy, unable to touch, unable to move, save for the desperate twitching of his hips.

Nikolai pulled away again, his eyes dark, glittering with triumph. He wiped his chin with the back of his hand, leaving a trail of wetness.

"So close, aren’t you?"

"... Shut up and finish it." Fyodor hissed, his voice raw.

"Oh, I will finish it. But first...." Nikolai reached up, his fingers finding the heavy, secure knot of the velvet rope at Fyodor’s wrists and legs using his portals.

Fyodor frowned.

"I want to see you push back. I want to see you realize that the ropes were never the true restraint."

With a swift, decisive pull, Nikolai untied the knots everywhere.

Fyodor’s arms immediately dropped, heavy and aching, falling into his lap.

The sudden release of tension was dizzying, but the freedom felt jarring.

" There." Nikolai said, standing up, his chest heaving. "The ropes are gone... But I am still standing over you."

Fyodor slowly rubbed his wrists, the skin beneath the velvet rope already red and tender. He looked up at Nikolai, his eyes burning with a complicated mix of fury and desire.

"You are so stupid it makes you right." Fyodor hissed, his voice low. "But... Yes. You are the only restraint that matters."

Nikolai smiled, a triumphant, dangerous curve of his lips.

He stepped back and Fyodor began to stood up.

But Nikolai kicked the chair out from behind Fyodor with a quick movement.

The chair scraped loudly across the concrete floor and tumbled away. Fyodor, caught off guard and was still leaning on it with some percentage of his body, stumbled forward, but Nikolai caught him instantly, pulling him flush against the immaculate white suit.

(yeah, yk second time of Fyodor falling, but it's the last time, I swear)

Nikolai sighed, pressing a hard, rough kiss to Fyodor’s mouth, claiming the remaining traces of blood and the fresh taste of saliva.

Their tongues met, intertwined, a desperate clash of dark desire. Nikolai tasted like raw power and the cold, damp air of the basement.

Nikolai broke the kiss, pushing Fyodor slightly away, then quickly stripping his own jacket and vest. He was wearing a thin, expensive silk shirt beneath, already slightly damp with sweat.

Fyodor followed suit, and kicked off his pants and underwear. They were soaked and useless anyways.

"I built this stage for us, Fyodor. Now, let’s use it."

He pushed Fyodor down onto the cold, hard floor. The concrete shocked Fyodor’s skin, but before he could register the discomfort, Nikolai was on him, heavy and demanding.

Nikolai grabbed Fyodor’s ankles, pulling his legs wide apart, then used his knees to pin Fyodor’s thighs open, exposing him fully.

Nikolai quickly unbuckled his trousers, pushing them down to his knees, freeing his own erection. It was thick, heavy, and already slick with anticipation.

"... The floor is cold." Fyodor complained, trying to arch his back against the unforgiving concrete.

"And?"

"It’s distracting. Fix it."

"Hahah, no. Let it focus you." Nikolai laughed against his skin.

He reached down, grabbing Fyodor’s now fully engorged cock, and gave it a sharp squeeze.

"Focus on this, love. Focus on how much you want the pleasure of being filled, the feeling of losing your mind right here in the dirt."

He leaned down, positioning himself between Fyodor’s spread legs. His shaft, hot and heavy, nudged against the entrance of Fyodor’s asshole, which was tight and unprepared.

" No preparation, Kolya?" Fyodor’s voice was strained, the cold edge returning despite the situation. "You are risking injury. That is hardly a perfect plan."

"I am risking nothing... I know your body. I know how much you enjoy the violation of it." Nikolai didn’t wait for a response. He pushed forward, a slow, agonizing slide.

Fyodor cried out, a sharp, involuntary sound of pain and shock. The head of Nikolai’s cock stretched him brutally, forcing the tight ring of muscle to give way.

"Deep breaths, my little rat." Nikolai grunted, his face contorted with effort and raw pleasure. He paused, buried only halfway, letting Fyodor adjust to the stretching pressure.

"... Don't tell me what to do." Fyodor wanted to hild his breath just to spite him, but decided against it.

The feeling of being impaled, of the hard, hot flesh stretching him to his limit on the cold concrete floor, was overwhelmingly intense. Fyodor’s muscles seized up, fighting the intrusion.

Nikolai pushed through the last barrier with a sudden, rough thrust.

He was fully buried, the thick shaft filling Fyodor completely, pressing deep against his prostate.

Fyodor gasped, a long, shivering exhalation. The sudden fullness was dizzying, anchoring him completely to the cold floor and the man above him.

Nikolai didn’t move for a long moment, simply savoring the tightness. He was breathing heavily, his chest heaving as he looked down at Fyodor’s pale, sweat-slicked face.

Fyodor finally spoke, his voice shaky, breathless.
"The act is convincing, Kolya. You seem genuinely intent on ruining me."

"That was the goal all along..."

Nikolai began to move, slow at first, pulling back almost entirely, then driving forward with controlled power. The movement was deep, rhythmic, forcing Fyodor’s hips to slap against the concrete.

The sounds were primal, wet, echoing slightly in the small space. Nikolai picked up the pace, his thrusts becoming faster, harder, more demanding.

He grabbed Fyodor’s hips, holding him steady, forcing him to take the full force of every stroke.

Fyodor’s initial pain had transformed into a raw, desperate pleasure. He began to thrust back instinctively, meeting Nikolai’s force with his own, the calculated coldness melting away into pure, physical response.

"Say my name..." Nikolai demanded breathlessly, pulling back and driving in so deep that Fyodor’s stomach muscles clenched violently.

"Fuck, Nikolai, I'm not doing this right now..." Fyodor gasped and bit his lip, throwing his head back from the unbearable pleasufe.

"... Fuck.. Kolya!" Fyodor cried out, the sound ripped from his throat, mixing with a low, desperate moan.

"... Again. Say it again. Say you're mine."

" Ah... Nikolai, I am yours, you arrogant fool! Fuck me harder..."

Nikolai hissed, and laughed the sound of pure, unrestrained triumph. He's say soemthing, but his breath was coming short, and he feared he wouldn't be able to say a whole sentence now.

Nikolai braced himself, and began to pound into Fyodor with savage abandon. His balls slapped loudly against Fyodor’s inner thighs with every deep thrust.

The friction inside was intense, generating a burning heat that spread through Fyodor’s core.

Fyodor was already close to climax, the combination of the oral stimulation and the brutal, deep penetration proving too much for his control. His own cock, still slick and throbbing, bounced against his stomach with every impact.

"Look at me, Fyodor." Nikolai whispered, his breath ragged in Fyodor’s ear as he leaned down.

Fyodor managed, gritting his teeth, clinging to the last vestiges of his mental superiority. But in the end, he locked eyes with Nikolai, and he pure obsession and raw feralness made something inside him ran loose.

Nikolai continued, pulling out almost completely, forcing a desperate whimper from Fyodor, then slammed back in with a final, earth-shattering thrust. "You are breaking."

The pressure was unbearable. Fyodor shuddered violently, his back arching off the cold floor. He felt the wave of orgasm crash over him, sharp and shattering.

He came instantly, a thick, hot spurt of semen coating his own stomach and chest. His whole body convulsed around Nikolai’s shaft, milking him relentlessly.

Nikolai groaned, his muscles tightening, the sensation of Fyodor’s tight convulsions pushing him over the edge. He grabbed Fyodor’s hips and drove hard, three more powerful, quick thrusts, before letting out a guttural cry of release.

He pumped his load deep inside Fyodor, thick, hot semen flooding the already slick passage. He buried his face in Fyodor’s neck, his body shaking with the force of his own climax.

They lay tangled on the cold, dirty concrete, both slick with sweat, come, and the dampness of the basement. Nikolai’s weight was heavy, oppressive, but Fyodor didn’t push him off.

The silence that followed was thick, punctuated only by their labored breathing.

After a long minute, Nikolai finally shifted, pulling himself out of Fyodor with a wet, squelching sound. He collapsed onto his side next to Fyodor, pulling the pale man against his chest, heedless of the fluids coating them both.

"Well..." Nikolai breathed, his voice still hoarse, a hint of the manic energy returning. "That was hardly a failure of logistics, was it?"

"You owe me a hot bath you asshole." Fyodor slowly turned his head, his dark eyes still hazy with post-orgasmic exhaustion.

He reached up, his fingers tracing the faint outline of the bruise on his cheek where Nikolai had slapped him. "And I get to top you next time."

Nikolai laughed, a soft, satisfied sound, pulling Fyodor closer and pressing a kiss to his
hair.

"Try to catch me, then. I'll let the next game be upon your choosing."

Chapter Text

The heavy oak door, usually a sentinel of silence, trembled with the force of each impact.

A low, guttural groan, thick with pleasure and effort, escaped the confines of Fyodor’s office, followed by a sharp, delighted gasp. Nikolai’s laughter, a high-pitched trill that always bordered on hysteria, cut through the sounds of struggle, painting a vivid picture for anyone within earshot.

Sigma, clutching a stack of freshly printed reports, hesitated, his knuckles white against the crisp paper. The rhythmic thudding against the door intensified, each beat echoing the frantic pulse in his own throat. He knew what it meant. He always knew, even when he tried not to.

"Fyodor, darling! Harder!" Nikolai’s voice, now a breathless whisper, carried clearly through the thick wood. A soft sound followed, then another groan, deeper this time, unmistakably Fyodor’s.

Sigma’s cheeks flushed a violent crimson. He shouldnt be here...

He should turn back.

He should.

But a strange, magnetic pull kept him rooted, his ear almost unconsciously leaning closer. He heard the squelch of skin, slick with sweat and something else, something primal. A low moan, drawn out and exquisite, escaped Nikolai’s lips, punctuated by a sharp, almost animalistic cry.

He needed to deliver these reports. Fyodor had explicitly stated they were urgent. His fingers trembled, the papers rustling like dry leaves. He lifted a hand, knuckles brushing against the cold brass doorknob. It was unlocked.

Of course it was. Fyodor rarely locked his door, a silent testament to his arrogance, his belief that no one would dare interrupt him. Sigma pushed, the door swinging inward with a soft creak that sounded deafening in the sudden, brief lull of noise.

The sight that greeted him stole the air from his lungs.

Fyodor was splayed across his grand mahogany desk, reports and quills scattered like fallen soldiers. His trousers were pooled around his ankles, his pale legs splayed wide. Nikolai, a chaotic swirl of silk and laughter, straddled Fyodor’s hips, his head thrown back, a wild, ecstatic grin splitting his face.

Nikolai’s eyes, usually a mischievous glint, were glazed over, half-lidded with pleasure, his mouth slightly agape. His own trousers were gone, discarded somewhere on the opulent rug.

Fyodor’s cock, thick and rigid, plunged into Nikolai, burying itself deep with each thrust. The sight was raw, unbridled, and utterly captivating.

Sigma froze.

His breath hitched, a tiny, almost inaudible sound, but in the charged silence of the room, it might as well have been a gunshot. Nikolai’s head snapped up, his eyes widening slightly, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them before settling on Sigma. A slow, knowing smile spread across his face, a predator spotting its prey. Fyodor, still bucking beneath Nikolai, his face a mask of intense concentration, seemed oblivious for a beat longer. His eyes, sharp and cold, locked onto Sigma, a flicker of annoyance, then something flickered across his face.

But it dissapeared before anyone could notice.

Nikolai, on the other hand looked delighted. Probably because in his sick mind he already planned on his new next plaything for the day.

"Sigma?" Nikolai smiled, his voice a sultry drawl, completely devoid of embarrassment. He shifted his hips, grinding down onto Fyodor’s cock with a slow, deliberate motion that made Fyodor’s breath catch. Fyodor’s eyes, still fixed on Sigma, narrowed imperceptibly.

Sigma’s face burned. He wanted to run. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to flee, to disappear, to pretend he had never seen this. But his feet were glued to the polished floorboards. His gaze, against his will, dropped to where Nikolai’s slick, pink hole gripped Fyodor’s shaft. He saw the way the skin stretched, the way the muscles clenched and released, the way a bead of pre-cum glistened at the base. His stomach churned with a mixture of disgust and a strange, undeniable fascination.

"… I have the reports, Fyodor." Sigma stammered, his voice thin and reedy, a stark contrast to the booming sounds that had filled the room moments before. He held the papers out like a shield, his hands shaking so violently the pages fluttered.

Nikolai giggled, a sound like glass chimes. "Reports can wait, can’t they, Fyodor? We have more pressing matters at hand."

He leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to Fyodor’s neck, his tongue tracing the line of his jaw. Fyodor, still staring at Sigma, let out a soft sigh, a sound of exasperation, but also, perhaps, something else.

"Kolya, enough." Fyodor’s voice was low, laced with an edge of irritation, yet it lacked true conviction. He pushed his hips up, a deep thrust that made Nikolai gasp again, his back arching. But he only did it to stop Nikolai from acting up, before pulling away from him.

Truth to be told, Fyodor knew Sigma scheduled a meting with him. He even prepared for it, and awaited the man. But...

Well, then Nikolai decided to ruin his plans.

Literally.

And now all the papers he had prepared and wanted to exchange with Sigma, were laying on the ground, useless.

Same as his dignity.

Nikolai chuckled, a throaty sound. "Would you really ditch me for Sigma now?" Nikolai rolled his eyes, but he didnt move. He peered over his shoulder at Sigma, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "I mean... Why stop? He loos pretty curious to me."

"Shut up, or I will kick you out."

Sigma squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, wishing the floor would swallow him whole. He felt a blush creep down his neck, pooling in his chest. He shook his head, a quick, jerky motion.

"I… I need to go." he tried to turn, but his legs felt like lead.

"Oh, no, no, no..." Nikolai sang, his voice a silken thread.

Nikolai, now fully exposed, his pale skin slick with sweat and other fluids, stood in front of Fyodor, his own cock, thick and uncircumcised, bobbing with a life of its own. He walked towards Sigma, a slow, deliberate pace, his eyes never leaving Sigma’s. Not feeling any glimse of shame, he smirked at him.

Sigma backed away, bumping into the doorframe. "I will come... Uh, later?" he whispered, his voice barely audible.

"Why, Sigma? Are you afraid?" Nikolai’s smile widened, revealing a flash of sharp teeth. He reached out, his fingers brushing against Sigma’s arm. The touch was feather-light, yet it sent a jolt through Sigma’s entire body. Nikolai’s skin was warm, damp. "You’re trembling."

"And youre harrasing him." Fyodor shot back and pulled out a ciggarete from his jacket.

Mind as well, since Nikolai wanted to fuck around with someone else. But... Damn, did he have a taste.

Bu tof course, Fyodor would never say it out loud.

Even though he found Sigma´s face cute and his shy demeanor quite intriguing...

"Sorry for interupting. I will pretend I-" Sigma lied, his voice cracking. He swallowed hard, his gaze darting from Nikolai’s face to his pulsating cock, then back again. Nikolai’s eyes were hypnotic, drawing him in.

"Oh, but why? You are already here" Nikolai tried to reach out, but Sigma slapped his hand away. Both the men admired his boldness for a second, even locking eyes and silently aproving to one another.

Fyodor, still by the desk, watched the scene unfold, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips and he blew a smoke out of his mouth. He adjusted himself, his cock still hard, a silent testament to his arousal, but at least he was decent enough to put his pants on again, unlike certain someone.

"Nikolai, don’t scare him away." Fyodor drawled, his voice a low rumble. There was a hint of warning, but also a definite undercurrent of amusement. "I still need him for later."

Nikolai ignored him, his full attention on Sigma. He took another step, closing the distance between them. Sigma pressed himself against the doorframe, desperate to escape. Nikolai’s scent, a heady mix of sweat, sex, and something faintly floral, enveloped him, intoxicating and overwhelming.

"Such a pretty little thing." Nikolai murmured, his voice softening, becoming almost tender. He reached out again, this time cupping Sigma’s cheek. His thumb stroked gently, sending shivers down Sigma’s spine. "You’re so nervous. But also… Curious, aren’t you?"

Sigma couldn’t answer. His throat was tight, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Shame, fear, but also a burgeoning excitement, a forbidden thrill he couldn’t deny. His eyes, wide and luminous, were fixed on Nikolai’s.

"Look at him, Fyodor..." Nikolai said, his voice now a seductive purr. He turned his head slightly, glancing at Fyodor, but his hand remained on Sigma’s face. "He’s practically begging for it."

"More like begging for you to leave him alone." Fyodor pushed himself up, swinging his legs off the desk.

He stood, his lean, powerful body illuminated by the afternoon sun streaming through the tall windows. He walked towards them, his movements fluid and deliberate, like a predator stalking its prey.

He was still a little bit salty that he wasnt able to finish before it all went down, but he knew better than to blame Sigma and take out his frustration on him. No, he will do that later to the real culprit.

Sigma’s breath hitched again. He was trapped. Between Nikolai’s seductive pressure and Fyodor’s imposing presence, there was no escape.

At least Nikolai was somehow okay to deal with, but... Fyodor?

Sigma was very much intimidated by the man and he hoped he didnt piss him off enough to taste his anger.

His gaze flickered to Fyodor’s cock, then quickly away, his cheeks burning hotter than ever.

"Do you want to add sex offending to your long list of crimes?" Fyodor glared at Nikolai, who only made a fake hurt sound.

Fyodor stopped beside Nikolai, his hand reaching out, not for Sigma, but for Nikolai’s hair. He tangled his fingers in the soft, white strands, giving a harsh tug. With that, he gragged Nikolai afew steps away, and even to Fyodor´s own surprise, Nikolai let him.

Nikolai rolled his eyes, leaning into Fyodor’s touch. "But that’s part of the fun, isn’t it? The chase." he turned back to Sigma, his eyes gleaming. "You like what you see, don’t you, little bird?"

Sigma finally found his voice, a ragged whisper. "I… No, I don’t understand-"

"You dont have to answe him." Fyodor interjected, his voice dry, yet with a hint of something deeper, something almost irritated. He stepped closer, his body radiating a quiet intensity that was far more intimidating than Nikolai’s display.

Sigma shook his head vehemently. "Sorry... I will just go, as i said."

He tried to push past Nikolai, but Nikolai’s hand, now firm on his arm, held him in place.

"Don’t be silly!" Nikolai cooed, his voice laced with a playful mockery. He glanced pointedly at the slight bulge in Sigma’s trousers and lifted his eyebrow.

Fyodor sighed to himself anf let go of Nikolai, tempted to smack them both. Great, now he needed to deal with sexually overdriven Nikolai AND sexually constipated Sigma.

Just amazing. But... Sigma did look pretty adorable like that.

Trying to deny his own arousal and run away. Fyodor wondered what would Sigma do, once he got away from them. What would he do about his little issue...?

Sigma’s eyes widened in horror. He instinctively crossed his arms over his crotch, trying to hide the undeniable evidence of his arousal. His face was a mask of mortification.

Fyodor stepped in front of Sigma, blocking his escape. His gaze was piercing, dissecting.

"What is it you truly desire, Sigma?" his voice was calm, almost hypnotic. "Do you want to run away, or do you want to stay and see how this ends?"

"Woah, say something about harassment." Nikolai nudged him with a smirk.

Sigma looked from Fyodor’s intense eyes to Nikolai’s playful ones. He was caught between two powerful forces, two magnetic personalities that drew him in, even as they terrified him. The scent of sex, now mingled with his own burgeoning arousal, filled his senses, making his head spin.

"I… I don’t know." he admitted, his voice barely a breath. The words were out before he could stop them, a raw, honest confession.

Nikolai clapped his hands together, a sharp, joyful sound. "He doesn’t know! Oh, Fyodor, isn’t he just precious?"

He turned to Fyodor, his eyes sparkling. "We must enlighten him, mustn’t we?"

Fyodor’s lips curved into a slow, predatory smile. "Dont talk about him as if he were a child."

"You are so mean to me today!"

"You are acting very punchable today, Kolya."

Fyodor ignoreed Nikolai and his next words and he reached out, his long fingers tracing the line of Sigma’s jaw, his touch surprisingly gentle. Sigma shivered, a tremor running through his entire frame. "You’ve been watching us for a while, haven’t you, Sigma?"

Sigma gasped, his face paling. "No! I haven’t!"

"Oh? Should I check the cameras, then?" Fyodor’s voice dropped, becoming a lowerl. His fingers moved from Sigma’s jaw to his neck, his thumb stroking the frantic pulse point. "Your heart is racing. Your body betrays your words."

Nikolai leaned against the wall next to Sigma, his breath warm against Sigma’s ear. "And your cock is hard for us, isn’t it?" he whispered, his voice a husky murmur that sent a fresh wave of heat through Sigma.

Sigma squeezed his eyes shut again, a silent plea for release. But release wasn't coming. He felt Nikolai’s hand move from his arm, gliding down his side, his fingers brushing tantalizingly close to his crotch.

"Let’s make this easier for you..." Nikolai purred. With a swift, practiced movement, he unzipped Sigma’s trousers. Sigma gasped, his eyes flying open, wide with shock and fear. Nikolai’s hand dipped inside, his fingers wrapping around Sigma’s semi-hard cock. "Oh, my! He is ready...."
¨
Sigma whimpered, a small, helpless sound. The touch was electric, forbidden, yet undeniably pleasurable. His cock twitched in Nikolai’s grip, growing harder still.

Fyodor watched, his gaze unblinking, a silent observer of the unfolding drama. His own cock, still prominent, bobbed with his breathing. He reached out, his fingers brushing against Nikolai’s neck, a silent approval.

"See, Fedya?" Nikolai looked up, a triumphant grin on his face. "He wants us. He just needs a little… Encouragement." he squeezed Sigma’s cock gently, eliciting another soft whimper from Sigma.

"Perhaps..." Fyodor said, his eyes still fixed on Sigma’s face, searching, probing. "But he looks as if he might bolt at any moment. Isnt that so?"

"Then we won’t let him..." Nikolai replied, his voice firm, yet still playful. He tugged gently on Sigma’s cock, pulling it free from his trousers. Sigma’s underwear was damp, stained with pre-cum. Nikolai’s eyes twinkled.

"Look at that. Such a pretty doll." Nikolai stroked the length of Sigma’s cock, his thumb circling the tip. Sigma’s hips twitched involuntarily, a soft moan escaping his lips.

Shame, hot and sharp, coursed through him. But beneath it, a strange, intoxicating pleasure began to bloom. The forbidden nature of it, the sheer audacity of Nikolai’s actions, the piercing gaze of Fyodor – it all combined into a heady cocktail that left him breathless and confused.

"You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?" Fyodor’s voice was a low murmur, barely above a whisper. His fingers brushed against Nikolai’s ass, a silent signal.

Nikolai, still stroking Sigma’s cock, turned his head slightly, his eyes meeting Fyodor’s. A silent conversation passed between them, a shared understanding. Nikolai’s grin widened.

Sigma’s breath hitched again. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. He was a deer caught in headlights, mesmerized by the unfolding spectacle. His body, however, had a mind of its own. The blood rushed to his groin, making his cock throb with an insistent ache.

Fyodor’s hand moved from Nikolai’s back, sliding over his hip, then reaching for Sigma’s hair. He tangled his fingers in the soft, silver strands, pulling gently, tilting Sigma’s head back. Sigma’s eyes, wide and bewildered, met Fyodor’s.

"Such innocent eyes..." Fyodor whiapered, his voice a silken thread. "But your body tells a different story." he leaned in, his breath warm against Sigma’s ear. "You want us to take you, don’t you?"

Sigma gasped, a choked sound. The raw, explicit words sent a jolt of pure desire through him, overriding all his shame and fear. He wanted to deny it, to push them away, but the words wouldn’t come. His head gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod.

Nikolai let out a triumphant laugh. "So mean, Sigma! You deny me, but once Fedya steps in, you agree."

"At least he has some senses in him." Fyodor rolled his eyes.

He released Sigma’s cock, then quickly unbuckled his own belt, letting his trousers fall to the floor. He stood naked, his body lithe and pale, his cock thick and ready. He turned to Fyodor, his eyes sparkling.

"Shall we, my love?"

"Dont be rude." Fyodor’s gaze swept over Sigma’s trembling form, a slow, appraising look that made Sigma’s skin prickle. "Let’s get you comfortable, Sigma..." he took Sigma’s hand, his grip surprisingly firm, and led him towards the large, plush rug in the center of the office.

Sigma followed, his legs feeling like jelly, his mind a haze of arousal and disbelief. He stumbled slightly, and Nikolai, ever the playful one, caught him, his hands sliding around Sigma’s waist, pulling him close.

"Don’t be shy now." Nikolai whispered, his lips brushing against Sigma’s ear. "We’re just getting started." he pushed Sigma gently onto the rug, making him kneel.

Sigma knelt, his knees sinking into the soft pile, his eyes wide and uncertain. He looked up at Fyodor and Nikolai, both of them standing over him, naked and aroused, like two gods presiding over a ritual.

Fyodor pinched his brows and sighed. "I meant the sofa, you idiot." he knelt in front of him, his face serious, almost solemn.

"Mine idea is better!" Nikolai argued and admired the view.

Fyodor reached out, his fingers tracing the outline of Sigma’s lips. Sigma’s breath hitched.

"Open for me, Sigma." Fyodor commanded, his voice a low thrum that vibrated through Sigma’s core.

Sigma, unable to resist, parted his lips slightly. Fyodor’s thumb stroked inside, exploring the soft, wet cavern of his mouth. Sigma shivered, a wave of heat washing over him. Fyodor’s eyes, usually cold and calculating, held a strange, almost tender warmth.

Nikolai, not to be outdone, knelt behind Sigma, his body pressing against Sigma’s back. Sigma felt the warmth of Nikolai’s skin, the brush of his cock against his ass. A gasp escaped his lips.

"Such a good boy... Listening so well already." Nikolai purred, his hands wrapping around Sigma’s waist, pulling him back against his own body. He leaned in, his lips brushing against Sigma’s neck. "You taste delicious, little dove."

Fyodor pulled his thumb from Sigma’s mouth, his eyes still locked on Sigma’s. He then reached for Sigma’s cock, which was still standing proudly. He wrapped his fingers around it, his touch firm and confident. Sigma gasped, his hips instinctively bucking forward.

"So eager." Fyodor cooed, his lips curving into a small, satisfied smile. He began to stroke Sigma’s cock, a slow, deliberate motion that sent waves of exquisite pleasure through Sigma’s entire body.

Being praised by Nikolai AND Fyodor did something to his mmind he was too ashamed to explore.

Nikolai’s hands moved from Sigma’s waist, sliding down to cup his ass. He squeezed gently, his fingers kneading the soft flesh. Sigma arched his back, a silent invitation.

"You’re so tense, dove..." Nikolai whispered, his voice filled with desire. He pressed his cock against Sigma’s ass, the hard tip nudging the sensitive skin around his hole. Sigma flinched, a sharp intake of breath.

Fyodor continued to stroke Sigma’s cock, his rhythm steady and hypnotic. He watched Sigma’s face, his eyes half-closed in pleasure, his lips parted in a silent moan.

"Relax, Sigma, we are not going anywhere..." Fyodor purred, his voice soft, yet firm, knowing exactly what Sigma wanted to hear. "Let us take care of you."

Nikolai chuckled, his breath warm against Sigma’s ear. "He’s a little nervous... But he’ll love it." he pushed his cock a little harder against Sigma’s ass, eliciting a soft whimper.

Sigma’s mind was a blur. The sensations were overwhelming, intoxicating. Fyodor’s hand on his cock, Nikolai’s body pressed against his back, the insistent pressure of Nikolai’s cock against his ass.

It was all too much, and yet, not enough. He craved more.

Fyodor leaned in, his lips brushing against Sigma’s ear. "We’ll make you feel things you’ve never imagined..." his voice was a promise, a seductive invitation.

Nikolai pulled Sigma’s hips back slightly, then pushed forward, the tip of his cock sliding into Sigma’s ass, just barely. Sigma cried out, a sharp, surprised sound. His body tensed, his muscles clenching.

"Easy, easy..." Nikolai murmured, his voice soothing. He pulled back slightly, then pushed again, a slow, deliberate movement. Sigma felt a stretching, a dull ache, then a strange, unfamiliar pleasure.

Fyodor continued to stroke Sigma’s cock, his thumb circling the sensitive head. Sigma’s hips began to move of their own accord, arching back into Nikolai’s thrusts.

"You are doing so good, Sigma." Fyodor observed, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to Sigma’s forehead.

Nikolai pushed deeper, his cock slowly burying itself inside Sigma’s tight ass. Sigma gasped, his body trembling with the intensity of the sensation. It was a strange mix of pain and pleasure, a feeling he had never experienced before.

"So tight." Nikolai groaned, his voice thick with desire. He pulled back slightly, then plunged forward again, burying his cock to the hilt. Sigma cried out, his body arching violently.

Fyodor released Sigma’s cock, his hand moving to Sigma’s chest, pressing down gently, urging him to relax. "Breathe, Sigma. Just breathe and enjoy it."

Sigma tried to follow his command, taking shallow, ragged breaths. Nikolai’s cock was filling him, stretching him, pushing against his insides. He felt a strange fullness, a sense of being completely consumed.

Nikolai began to thrust, a slow, steady rhythm that gradually increased in pace. Sigma’s body responded, his hips rocking back and forth, meeting Nikolai’s thrusts. He felt a deep, primal urge building within him, a craving for release.

Fyodor watched, his eyes gleaming with a predatory satisfaction. He reached out again, his hand moving to Sigma’s hair, pulling gently, tilting Sigma’s head back, exposing his throat. He then leaned in, his lips brushing against Sigma’s neck, his tongue tracing a hot, wet path.

"You’re beautiful, Sigma..." Fyodor whispered, his voice a low growl. He bit gently at Sigma’s neck, eliciting a gasp.

Nikolai, still thrusting deep inside Sigma, leaned forward, his lips brushing against Sigma’s ear.

Fyodor pulled Sigma’s head back further, exposing his jaw, then leaned in, pressing a searing kiss to Sigma’s lips.

Sigma’s eyes widened, then slowly closed as Fyodor’s mouth devoured his. Fyodor’s tongue, hot and insistent, plunged into his mouth, tangling with his own. Sigma felt a jolt of pure ecstasy. He had never been kissed like this before, with such raw, primal passion.

Nikolai, feeling Sigmas insides twitch from the kiss, thrust harder, his cock burying itself deep inside Sigma’s ass with each stroke. Sigma’s moans were muffled by Fyodor’s mouth, but his body arched and bucked, responding to the dual assault.

Fyodor pulled back from the kiss, his lips glistening, his eyes dark with desire. "Now, let’s make you truly ours."

He moved his hand from Sigma’s hair, sliding it down Sigma’s back, then reaching for Nikolai’s hips. He pushed Nikolai deeper, urging him to go faster.

Nikolai groaned, his thrusts becoming more frantic, more desperate. Sigma’s ass muscles clenched around Nikolai’s cock, milking him with each movement.

Fyodor then moved his hand from Nikolai’s hips, sliding it down to Sigma’s own ass. He spread Sigma’s cheeks wider, exposing his now-stretched, wet hole. He leaned in, his tongue tasting the sweet, salty skin, head resting against Sigmas shoulder.

Nikolai took the chance and kissed Fyodor quickly, but Fyodor only bit his lip in clear annoyance with him still.

Sigma cried out, his body trembling. The sensations were almost unbearable. Fyodor’s tongue, wet and warm, exploring his ass, while Nikolai’s cock plunged deep inside him.

"Such a delicious body..." Fyodor murmured, his voice thick with desire. He then moved his head, pressing his mouth against Sigma’s shoulder, sucking gently.

Sigma gasped, his body arching violently. The combination of suction and penetration sent shivers of pure pleasure through him. He was completely lost, completely consumed by the moment.

Nikolai, his eyes wild with passion, thrust harder, his cock slamming against Sigma’s prostate with each stroke. Sigma cried out, a high-pitched sound of pure ecstasy.

"You’re almost there, dove." Nikolai whispered, his breath ragged. He pulled back slightly, then plunged forward, burying his cock to the hilt, holding it there.

Fyodor pulled his mouth away from Sigma, his lips wet and glistening. He looked up at Nikolai, a silent command passing between them. Nikolai nodded, his eyes blazing.

Fyodor then moved his hand from Sigma’s ass, sliding it down to Sigma’s cock, which was still hard and throbbing. He began to stroke it again, slowly at first, then with increasing speed and pressure.

Sigma groaned, his body convulsing. The combination of Fyodor’s hand on his cock and Nikolai’s deep, relentless thrusts inside him was pushing him over the edge.

"Come for us, Sigma." Fyodor commanded sweetly. "Show us how much you like it."

Nikolai pulled his cock out slightly, then plunged it back in, a powerful, final thrust that made Sigma scream. His body stiffened, his muscles tensing.

Fyodor’s hand worked faster, his fingers milking Sigma’s cock with expert precision. Sigma’s vision blurred, his mind a kaleidoscope of colors and sensations. He felt a wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure wash over him, building to an unbearable crescendo.

"Ah… ahhh…!" Sigma cried out, his voice choked with pleasure. His body convulsed, and a thick stream of white cum erupted from his cock, spraying over Fyodor’s hand, over the plush rug. He collapsed forward, his body trembling, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

Nikolai groaned, his own release building. He thrust harder, his body shuddering with the effort. His cock, still buried deep inside Sigma, pulsed with his own impending orgasm.

Fyodor, still covered in Sigma’s cum, moved his hand from Sigma’s cock. He leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to Sigma’s cum-slicked shaft. Then, he looked up at Nikolai, his eyes dark with a primal hunger.

"Come, my love..." Fyodor commanded, his voice a low growl. "Come for me."

Nikolai let out a muffled scream, his body convulsing violently. He plunged his cock deep inside Sigma one last time, then stiffened, a thick gush of hot cum erupting from him, filling Sigma’s ass. He collapsed onto Sigma’s back, his body trembling, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

Fyodor watched, a faint, satisfied smile playing on his lips. He then moved, his hand sliding down to his own cock, which was still hard and throbbing. He looked at Sigma, then at Nikolai, then back at his own erection.

"Now, for my turn." Fyodor murmured, his voice a low, dangerous growl. He moved behind Sigma, his body pressing against Nikolai’s. Nikolai, still recovering from his orgasm, groaned softly, shifting slightly to accommodate Fyodor.

 

Fyodor leaned in, his lips brushing against Nikolai’s ear. "Move aside, my dear. Let me have a taste."

Nikolai chuckled, a weak, breathless sound. "Always so impatient, Fedya."

He slowly pulled his cock out of Sigma’s ass, a wet sound that made Sigma whimper softly. Sigma’s ass, still slick with Nikolai’s cum, was now open and ready.

Fyodor’s cock, thick and rigid, nudged against Sigma’s ass. Sigma, still trembling from his own orgasm, felt a fresh wave of anticipation wash over him. He instinctively arched his back, offering himself to Fyodor.

Fyodor groaned, a deep, satisfied sound. He pushed forward, the tip of his cock sliding into Sigma’s wet, cum-slicked hole. Sigma gasped, his body tensing, but also relaxing into the familiar stretch.

"So warm..." Fyodor gasped, his voice thick with desire. He pushed deeper, slowly burying his cock inside Sigma’s ass. Sigma cried out, a mix of pain and pleasure. Fyodor’s cock was thicker, longer than Nikolai’s, and it stretched him to his limit.

Fyodor paused, letting Sigma adjust to the size. He then began to thrust, a slow, deliberate rhythm that gradually increased in pace. Sigma’s body responded, his hips rocking back and forth, meeting Fyodor’s thrusts.

Nikolai, now lying beside Sigma, reached out, his hand wrapping around Sigma’s cock, which was still sensitive and swollen from his orgasm. He began to stroke it gently, eliciting a soft moan from Sigma.

Fyodor leaned in, his lips brushing against Sigma’s ear. "Just a little while." his voice was a low, seductive whisper.

Sigma, his mind a haze of pleasure, could only nod, a small, jerky movement of his head.

Fyodor chuckled, a dark, rich sound. He thrust harder, his cock slamming against Sigma’s prostate with each stroke. Sigma cried out, his body arching violently.

Nikolai continued to stroke Sigma’s cock, his fingers teasing the sensitive tip. Sigma felt a new wave of arousal building within him, despite having just come.

Fyodor pulled Sigma’s head back by his hair, his fingers tangled in the silver strands. He leaned in, his lips brushing against Sigma’s.

"Such a good boy..." he whispered, then plunged his tongue into Sigma’s mouth, a deep, hungry kiss.

Sigma’s body convulsed, his moans muffled by Fyodor’s mouth. The combination of the deep penetration, the rough hair-pulling, and the intense kiss was overwhelming. He felt himself spiraling into another orgasm.

Nikolai, sensing Sigma’s impending release, began to stroke his cock faster, his fingers milking him with expert precision.

Fyodor thrust harder, his body shuddering with the effort. He felt the tension building within him, the primal urge for release. He pulled his mouth away from Sigma’s, his eyes dark with desire.

"Come for me, Sigma..." Fyodor bit his lip, his voice a low growl.

"So quick." Nikolai teased, but Fyodor only glared at him with threads in his eyes of what he will do to him of he dont shut up.

Sigma cried out, a high-pitched scream of pure ecstasy. His body stiffened, and a fresh stream of cum erupted from his cock, spraying over Nikolai’s hand, over the rug. He collapsed, his body trembling, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

Fyodor groaned, his own release building. He thrust harder, his body shuddering with the effort. His cock, still buried deep inside Sigma, pulsed with his own impending orgasm.

Fyodors body convulsed violently. He plunged his cock deep inside Sigma one last time, then stiffened, a thick gush of hot cum erupting from him, filling Sigma’s ass, mixing with Nikolai’s.

The room was silent, save for the ragged breathing of the three men. The air was thick with the scent of sex, cum, and sweat. Sigma lay between Fyodor and Nikolai, his body spent, his mind a whirlwind of sensations. He felt utterly exhausted, yet strangely exhilarated.

Fyodor, still buried deep inside Sigma, leaned in, his lips brushing against Sigma’s ear. "You were magnificent." his voice was a low, satisfied murmur.

Nikolai, sittingbeside Sigma, reached out, his hand caressing Sigma’s cheek.

"You’re quite the performer, Sigma. Who knew?" Nikolai chuckled softly, a sound of pure contentment.

Sigma, his voice weak and hoarse, managed a small, almost imperceptible smile. He felt a strange sense of belonging, of being accepted, even desired. The shame was still there, a faint echo, but it was overshadowed by the overwhelming pleasure and the unexpected tenderness he had found in their embrace.

Fyodor slowly pulled his cock out of Sigma’s ass. He then rolled off Sigma, pulling Nikolai with him onto the ground. And it wouldnt be Nikolai, if he wouldnt drag Sigma with them. The two of them lay beside Sigma, their bodies intertwined, their breathing slowly returning to normal.

Sigma lay on the rug, his body slick with cum and sweat, his muscles aching, yet strangely satisfied. He looked at Fyodor and Nikolai, their bodies intertwined, their eyes still heavy with the afterglow of their shared pleasure.

Nikolai, sensing Sigma’s gaze, opened his eyes, a soft smile gracing his lips. He reached out, his hand finding Sigma’s, intertwining their fingers.

"Welcome to the family, dove."

Fyodor, his eyes still closed, let out a soft sigh, a sound of pure contentment. He squeezed Nikolai’s hand, then Sigma’s, a silent affirmation.

Sigma closed his eyes, a faint smile on his lips. He was no longer shy, no longer afraid. He was simply… Content. The reports, the office, the world outside, it all faded into insignificance. All that mattered was the warmth of their bodies, the lingering scent of sex, and the strange, unexpected connection he had found with these two enigmatic men.
He had stumbled into their world, and in doing so, he had found a part of himself he never knew existed.

Chapter Text

The sterile hum of the ventilation system always felt like a dull thrum against Fyodor’s eardrums, a constant reminder of the manufactured air he breathed.

Tonight, however, it merely served as a backdrop to a more insistent rhythm, one thrumming deep within his own veins.

Fyodor felt a soft ping of boredom in his mind. It was an emotion he didn´t feel often, but when he did, it was stubbornly real.

Nikolai was away, dispatched on a mission that promised chaos and distraction, leaving Fyodor with an unusual quiet space he wasn´t used to. Sure, he could invite himself ti Nikola´s mission by pulling some strings… Yet he remained where he was seated, mind ucupied with meaningless thoughts

The silence brought with it a memory, sharp and vivid, of another night, not so long ago, when his office had been drowned out by a symphony of gasps and moans.

He remembered Sigma’s flushed face, a delicate canvas of embarrassment and needy pleasure, caught between Fyodor’s cool hands and Nikolai’s fevered adoration.

Nikolai, ever the theatrical one, had orchestrated the initial encounter, his wild eyes gleaming as he pushed Sigma into Fyodor’s orbit, a sacrificial lamb offered to a predator.

True, Fyodor was annoyed at first, but it was merely because Nikolai abandoned him when bozh of them were so close to orgasm.He didn´t mind the man alone, contribuing into their sex life.

Quite the opposite…

Sigma’s body, slender and surprisingly pliant, had yielded to their combined attentions with a hesitant grace. The memory of Sigma’s quiet whimpers, the way his hips had instinctively arched against Fyodor’s, the sudden, almost violent release that had left him trembling and boneless between them, lingered like a phantom scent.

A slow heat coiled in Fyodor’s gut, a familiar, demanding ache. Nikolai’s absence, usually a source of mild irritation, now felt like an invitation, a blank canvas upon which he could paint a new scene. He craved that specific blend of innocence and depravity that Sigma embodied, that fragile curiosity he knew lay beneath the casino manager’s shy exterior.

He wanted to peel away those layers again, to see the raw desire ignite in those wide, uncertain eyes.

It eas almost overwhelming, hoe badly Fyodor craved the touch. In times like this, Nikolai was usually around to help out, but today…

He was god knows where, and Fyodor was in the certain mood now.

Fyodor pushed away from his desk, the polished wood cool beneath his fingertips. He knew what he wanted, there was no denying it.

And Fyodor never deprived himself of anything he he desired.

His steps were silent, a predator gliding through its domain. He just needed to make some calls, order his men around and then wait. The waiting was the worst, but he kept reminding himself that patience is the key.

The Sky Casino was a labyrinth of opulence, but Sigma’s office was his target, a beacon in the gilded maze. He knew the way there, since he visited this high up place countless times to deliver new orders.

He imagined Sigma there in his spaceous and neat office, perhaps poring over ledgers, his brow furrowed in concentration, utterly unaware of the approaching storm. The thought sent a jolt of anticipation through him.
The door to Sigma’s office stood ajar, a sliver of light escaping into the hushed corridor. Fyodor paused, a faint smile playing on his lips. He heard the soft rustle of papers, the faint click of a pen. He pushed the door open further, the hinges sighing almost imperceptibly.

Sigma sat at his large, imposing desk, a stack of reports fanned out before him. His silver and lavender hair, usually meticulously styled, had a few strands escaping, framing a face etched with mild fatigue. He clearly didn´t expect to be seen today, let alone serve guests.

He looked up, startled, his eyes widening as he saw Fyodor. A faint blush immediately bloomed across his cheeks.

“Fyodor?“ His voice was a soft exhalation, tinged with surprise and a hint of something else Fyodor couldn’t quite decipher. Was it fear? Excitement? Both, perhaps.

With Sigma´s permanent anxiety of everything he did, Fyodor had sometimes harder time reading the man and figuring him out. He was only lucky Sigma´s nervous personalitty let to clumsiness. And,he could easily deal with that.

Fyodor stepped inside, the door swinging shut behind him with a soft click, sealing them in. The air in the room seemed to thicken, charged with an unspoken current. He didn’t speak immediately, letting his gaze sweep over Sigma, taking in the way his shoulders tensed, the slight tremor in his hands as he instinctively pushed a stack of papers into a neater pile.

“You look… Preoccupied.“ Fyodor finally said, his voice a low tone, a silken thread unspooling in the quiet room.

He walked slowly, deliberately, around the edge of the desk, not quite approaching, not quite retreating. He watched Sigma’s eyes track his movement, a nervous energy radiating from the younger man.

Sigma swallowed, his gaze flicking from Fyodor’s face to his hands, then back again.

“Just finishing up. The evening reports.“ he gestured vaguely at the papers, his voice a little breathy.

Fyodor stopped beside the desk, close enough that Sigma could feel the subtle shift in the air, the faint, clean scent of his skin. He leaned in slightly, his eyes, dark and fathomless, fixing on Sigma’s.

“And what else occupies your thoughts, Sigma?“ Fyodor´s voice was innocent, almost curious, but the underlying current was anything but.

Sigma was easier to manipulate than Nikolai and now it came pretty handy. The unsure atraction and the actions of the previous nights were a sweet bonus.

Sigma’s blush deepened, spreading down his neck. He looked away, his gaze darting to the wall, then back to Fyodor’s intense stare. “Nothing, really. Just work.“ he tried to sound nonchalant, but the tremor in his voice betrayed him.

Fyodor’s lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. He loved the feeling of being desired. With Nikolai it was different. Nikolai´s derire for him was loud, possesive and unapologetic. On its own it was suffocating in the best was possible and Fyodor could never get enough.
¨

But Sigma´s desire was new to him, same as to the manager. Sigma didnt´t quite knew what he wanted and he seemed hesitant with everything, but still so adorably curious.

Good thing Fyodor was here to help him figure things out, like a good collegue would.

He reached out, his long fingers brushing lightly against a stray lock of Sigma’s silver hair, tucking it gently behind his ear. The touch was feather-light, yet it sent a shiver through Sigma.

“Liar.“ Fyodor smiled softly, his voice barely a whisper, a warm breath against Sigma’s temple. “I think you’ve been thinking about something else entirely.“ his fingers trailed down Sigma’s neck, a soft, teasing caress, lingering at the pulse point where it throbbed erratically.

Fyodor knew he could not be as rough with Sigma, as he was with Nikolai. They both knew each other well enough to see through each other, the trust thickening between the years spent together.

But with Sigma, he had to play a different role. He didn´t mind, playing mind games was one of his favorite things.

And it seemed Sigma had quite a thing for him being soft, but overpowering. Fyodor would love to throw that into the man´s face, but he restrained himself.

Maybe later…

Sigma gasped, a small, involuntary sound. His eyes squeezed shut for a moment, then opened again, wide and vulnerable. He didn’t pull away, though his body was rigid with tension. “Fyodor, I-“

“Shhh.“ Fyodor interrupted, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin of Sigma’s throat. “No need for words. Not yet.“

He leaned closer, his other hand coming to rest on the edge of the desk, effectively caging Sigma in. The scent of him, ink, expensive paper, and something uniquely Sigma, a faint, sweet cleanliness, filled Fyodor’s senses.

Sigma’s breath hitched. He could feel the heat radiating from Fyodor’s body, the subtle pressure of his presence. His heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat.

He remembered the last time, the overwhelming sensations, the way he’d lost himself in the combined force of Fyodor and Nikolai. A thrill, sharp and illicit, shot through him. He was scared, yes, but beneath the fear, a powerful curiosity stirred.
¨

“You’re thinking about me, aren’t you?“ Fyodor’s voice was a low rumble, a hypnotic cadence. “The way I touched you. The things we did.“ his fingers moved from Sigma’s throat, tracing the delicate line of his jaw, then down to his chin, tilting his face up.

Ah, now in this flustered state, Sigma was so easy to decypher, he had no idea. All the delicious emotions were written in his eyes and all over his cute face.

Sigma’s eyes met Fyodor’s, a turbulent mix of apprehension and a nascent longing. He couldn’t deny it. The memory had been a persistent hum in the back of his mind, a tantalizing whisper of forbidden pleasure.
¨

“I… I don’t know what you mean.“ Sigma managed, his voice barely audible, a pathetic attempt at feigning ignorance.

Fyodor was usually repulsed by pathetic men, but… Sigma was, oddly enough, drawing him in more and more.

Fyodor chuckled, a soft, dry sound that sent another shiver down Sigma’s spine.

“Oh, I think you do.“ his thumb stroked Sigma’s lower lip, a slow, deliberate movement that made Sigma’s breath catch. “But I see right through you.“

Sigma’s eyes fluttered closed, a soft moan escaping his lips, once fyodor pressed his thumb into his mouth.

The image in his mind from previous encounter was too vivid, too real. He remembered the slick warmth, the heady rush, the way his body had responded with a primal abandon he hadn’t known he possessed.

Fyodor watched the subtle shifts in Sigma’s expression, the way his eyelids trembled, the slight parting of his lips. He leaned in further, his mouth hovering just above Sigma’s.

“You want it again, don’t you?“ he whispered, his voice a seductive. “You want to feel my touch. You want to feel me inside you.“

Sigma’s eyes snapped open, wide and dark with a mixture of fear and desire. He nodded, a barely perceptible movement. The admission felt like a surrender, a loosening of the carefully constructed walls he kept around himself.

“Good boy,“ Fyodor purred, the words a balm to Sigma’s frayed nerves.

Praise. He craved it, Fyodor knew. Sigma, for all his shyness, bloomed under approval, especially Fyodor’s. “Such an honest little thing. I like that.“

Fyodor discovered Sigma´s need for praise by accident, in one of their private meetings. It wasn´t anything sexual back then, Fyodor simply half heartedly complimented the man´t strategy skills without even meaning it. But it was enough to make Sigma´s mind do mental gymnastics in real time. Truth to be told, it was entertaining to watch.

Mixed with the quiet and ever lasting intimidation Sigma felt towards Fyodor… It was a combination Fyodor couldn´t get enough.

Fyodor’s lips finally descended, a slow, deliberate press against Sigma’s. It wasn’t a forceful kiss, but a tender, seeking one, an invitation. Sigma’s lips were soft, hesitant at first, then they parted slightly, a silent invitation. Fyodor took it, his tongue tracing the seam of Sigma’s mouth, then slipping inside.

A soft gasp escaped Sigma’s throat as their tongues met, a dance of tentative exploration. Fyodor’s tongue was slow, languid, tasting, savoring.

He explored every curve, every soft recess, drawing Sigma’s tongue into a gentle suckling motion. Sigma’s hands, which had been resting on the desk, now clenched into fists, then slowly, tentatively, they lifted, his fingers curling into Fyodor’s coat, a desperate grip.

The kiss deepened, Fyodor’s hand moving from Sigma’s chin to cup the back of his head, tilting it back further, allowing for a more thorough exploration.

He pulled Sigma closer, until their chests were almost touching, the desk a barrier that felt suddenly insignificant. Sigma whimpered into the kiss, a soft, needy sound that fueled Fyodor’s desire.

Fyodor broke the kiss, pulling back just enough to look into Sigma’s dazed eyes, his own dark with hunger.

“You taste so sweet, Sigma. It´t addicting.“ he kissed him again, a quick, possessive press of lips, then trailed soft kisses down Sigma’s jawline, to the sensitive skin beneath his ear.

“Fyodor… Please…“ Sigma’s voice was a ragged plea, a mixture of torment and yearning.

Now Fyodor was even more intrigued with the man under him. With Nikolai, it heavily depended on his mood, but he rarely begged. And when he did, it took both of them a lot of fighting and wasted energy to do so. So much that they sometimes even ended up with broken bed in the process. But to say fyodor´s pride wasnt the same, would be a lie.

So with Sigma, so easily overthrown wtih pleasure he never felt, so eager to plead for his touch… Fyodor tried his very best not to smirk into Sigma´s skin, trying his very best not to scare the man off.

“Please, what?“ Fyodor whispered, his teeth gently nipping at Sigma’s neck, sending a jolt of pleasure through him. “Tell me what you want… Use your words.“

Sigma shuddered, his head falling back against Fyodor’s supporting hand. “I… I want you to touch me.“
“Where, dear?“

“... Everywhere.“ the words were a breathless rush, barely audible, but clear enough.

A triumphant smile touched Fyodor’s lips. “As you wish.“

Fyodor wasn´t the one to listen to others so easily, but with Sigma, he decideed against it. He would collect the prize for it later. Because cooperative and grateful man is better than scared one. Well, at least when it came to Sigma.

But… Fyodor would love to see him trembling with fear underneath him. Well, that was always an option for other tiimes.

His hand, which had been at the back of Sigma’s head, slid down, unbuttoning the top few buttons of Sigma’s pristine white shirt with practiced ease. His fingers brushed against Sigma’s collarbone, then slipped inside, cold against the warm skin.

Sigma gasped, his body arching slightly into the touch. Fyodor’s fingers were cool, yet they ignited a fire wherever they roamed. He pushed the shirt aside, revealing the delicate curve of Sigma’s shoulder, the pale skin of his chest.

Fyodor leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to Sigma’s exposed skin, then another, trailing downwards.

“Beautiful...“ Fyodor murmured against Sigma’s skin, his lips leaving a trail of fire. “So soft. So inviting.“

He continued to unbutton Sigma’s shirt, slowly, deliberately, each button a small victory. When the shirt was open, he pushed it off Sigma’s shoulders, letting it fall to the floor in a silken heap.

Sigma was left in his undershirt, a thin layer of cotton that did little to conceal the rising flush of his skin, the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

Fyodor’s gaze lingered on Sigma’s chest, the faint outline of his nipples visible beneath the fabric. He reached out, his thumb and forefinger lightly pinching one, then twisting. Sigma let out a sharp intake of breath, a low moan escaping his lips.

“Does that feel good, Sigma?“ Fyodor asked, his voice low and husky, watching the way Sigma’s body tensed, the way his head lolled back.

“Yes…“ Sigma whimpered, his eyes closed, lost in the sensation.

Fyodor continued to tease Sigma’s nipples, rolling them between his fingers, then tugging gently. Sigma’s hips began to shift in his seat, a restless movement, a silent plea for more. Fyodor’s other hand found its way to Sigma’s lap, resting just above the swell of his trousers.

He felt the unmistakable hardness beneath the fabric.

“So eager.“ Fyodor purred, a dark amusement in his eyes. “Already so hard.“

He squeezed gently, eliciting another gasp from Sigma. “Such a good boy. Always ready for me.“

Sigma’s breath hitched, his body trembling. The praise, the touch, the raw hunger in Fyodor’s eyes, it was overwhelming, intoxicating. He felt a ping of shame, and thrill of being so utterly exposed and desired.

Fyodor stood back slightly, his gaze dropping to Sigma’s trousers. “Let’s get rid of these, shall we?“ he said, his voice a soft command.

Sigma, still dazed, nodded. His hands fumbled at his belt buckle, but Fyodor’s hands were already there, quicker, more efficient. He unbuckled the belt, then unzipped the fly, his fingers brushing against Sigma’s straining erection. Sigma gasped, his hips jerking involuntarily.

Fyodor pushed Sigma’s trousers down, along with his boxers, until they pooled around his ankles. Sigma sat exposed, his erection springing free, thick and throbbing, glistening with a bead of pre-cum. He was utterly vulnerable, his pale skin flushed, his eyes wide and unfocused.

He knelt, bringing his face level with Sigma’s engorged cock. He reached out, his fingers wrapping around the thick shaft, feeling the heat, the pulsing life within.

Sigma let out a choked cry, his back arching, his head thrown back. His breath came in ragged gasps. Fyodor’s touch was exquisite, a gentle yet firm pressure that sent waves of pleasure through him.

Fyodor stroked Sigma’s cock slowly, deliberately, his thumb teasing the sensitive head, spreading the pre-cum. He watched Sigma’s face, the way his eyes rolled back, the way his lips parted in a silent scream of pleasure.

“Such a good boy.“Fyodor repeated, his voice a low thrum against Sigma’s skin. “You like that, don’t you? My touch.“

Sigma could only manage a choked sound, a desperate nod. He was beyond words, lost in the rising tide of sensation.

Fyodor leaned in, his lips brushing against the head of Sigma’s cock. Sigma shuddered violently, a whimper tearing from his throat. Fyodor tasted him, a faint, metallic sweetness, then took the tip into his mouth, suckling gently.

Again, Fyodor wasnt the one to serve so easily, but he knew Sigma will give him the pleasure back later.

Sigma cried out, his hands reaching out blindly, gripping Fyodor’s shoulders, his fingers digging into the expensive fabric. His hips bucked, a desperate, instinctual movement. Fyodor’s mouth was a warm, wet heaven, his tongue swirling around the sensitive head, drawing him deeper.

Fyodor continued to suckle, his tongue teasing, his lips pulling, drawing Sigma further into his mouth. He felt the thick pulse of blood, the rhythmic twitching. He heard Sigma’s frantic gasps, the desperate pleas for more.

“You’re so good for me, Sigma.“ Fyodor sighed, his voice muffled by Sigma’s cock. “So responsive.“

He pulled back slightly, then plunged deeper, taking more of Sigma into his mouth, his cheeks hollowing with the effort.

Sigma moaned, a long, drawn-out sound of pure bliss. He was on the verge, teetering on the edge of release, his body vibrating with an unbearable tension.

Just as Sigma felt the first tremors of his climax begin, a soft click echoed from the doorway.

Fyodor paused, his head still bent over Sigma, his eyes flicking towards the sound. Fyodor´s eyes widened slightly, recognizing the footsteps instantly.

He felt a glimse of annoyance gripping his nerves, but then another, louder idea overpowered.

Nikolai stood there, leaning against the doorframe, a wide, unsettling grin stretching across his face. His eyes, usually alight with manic energy, now held a predatory gleam, fixed on the scene before him.

“Well, well, well...“ Nikolai purred, his voice a theatrical whisper. “What do we have here? A private little party without your favorite clown?“

“Indeed, private.“ Fyodor looked over his shoulder, but didn´t even seem to want to get up from his kneeling position.

“Aw, you almost never suck me off… What did Sigma do to deserve this treatment?“ Nikolai whined dramatically, but his words carried a sense of heat in them.

Was it jealousy? Or arousal? Fyodor hoped for both.

Sigma’s eyes snapped open, his face instantly flushing a violent crimson. He gasped, pulling away from Fyodor’s mouth, his hands flying to cover himself, a futile gesture. Embarrassment, hot and searing, washed over him, momentarily eclipsing the pleasure.

Fyodor, however, remained unfazed. A slow, knowing smile spread across his face. He hadn’t pulled away completely, his hand still wrapped around Sigma’s semi-hard cock, his fingers still teasing. He looked over again, met Nikolai’s gaze, a challenge, an invitation in his dark eyes.

Fyodor said, his voice calm, almost welcoming now. “You’re back sooner than expected.“ he didn’t sound surprised, merely acknowledging the inevitable.

“And just in time, it seems.“ Nikolai replied, his gaze raking over Sigma’s exposed body, lingering on the flushed skin, the still-glistening cock. “Though I must say, Fedya, you were having all the fun.“ his eyes twinkled mischievously.

“And I intend to keep it that way.“

Sigma squirmed, trying to pull his trousers up, but Fyodor’s hand on his cock held him captive. He looked from Fyodor’s impassive face to Nikolai’s gleeful one, a sense of helplessness washing over him. He was trapped, utterly exposed, and now, being watched. The thought sent a fresh wave of shame, but also a strange, thrilling jolt, through him.

Fyodor tightened his grip on Sigma’s cock, eliciting a small whimper. “Poor thing… He was almost there.“ Fyodor remarked, his voice a low purr, his eyes never leaving Nikolai’s. “But I thought perhaps you’d enjoy the grand finale.“

Nikolai chuckled, a low, guttural sound. “Oh, love, you always know how to please me.“

He pushed off the doorframe, taking a few steps into the room, his eyes fixed on Sigma. “Don’t be shy, dove. We’ve seen it all before, haven’t we?“

Sigma squeezed his eyes shut, wishing the floor would swallow him whole. He felt utterly humiliated, yet the pressure of Fyodor’s hand, the heat of his gaze, the knowledge that Nikolai was watching, stirred a deeper, more primal response within him.

His cock, which had softened slightly with embarrassment, began to swell again, pulsing against Fyodor’s palm.

Fyodor felt the renewed hardening, a silent affirmation of Sigma’s deeper desires. He leaned in, his lips brushing Sigma’s ear. “He likes to watch, Sigma...“ Fyodor whispered, his voice a soft caress. “He likes to see you come apart for me.“

Sigma trembled, a conflict raging within him. The shame was immense, but the pleasure, the undeniable thrill of being the center of their attention, of being praised and desired so openly, was winning. He opened his eyes, meeting Fyodor’s gaze, a silent plea for guidance, for permission.

Fyodor’s eyes held a soft command. “Show him, Sigma. Show him how good you are for me.“

He removed his hand from Sigma’s cock, then traced a slow path up his chest, across his collarbone, and then down his arm, until his fingers laced with Sigma’s. He pulled Sigma’s hands away from his body, holding them firmly. “Let him see everything.“

(id kms if i were sigma lol)

Sigma, unable to resist Fyodor’s quiet authority, let his hands be held captive. His body was now fully exposed to Nikolai’s hungry gaze. Nikolai, for his part, had pulled out his own cock, already hard and glistening, and was stroking it slowly, his eyes wide and fixed on Sigma.

“Such a pretty sight...“ Nikolai breathed, his voice thick with desire.

Fyodor leaned back, his gaze sweeping over Sigma’s body, then to Nikolai, then back to Sigma. He was orchestrating a scene, a tableau of raw desire, for Nikolai’s benefit. He began to praise Sigma again, his voice a low, hypnotic hum.

Sigma whimpered, his eyes fluttering closed as Nikolai´s words washed over him, a powerful aphrodisiac.

The praise, the detailed description of his own body, the knowledge that both Fyodor and Nikolai were watching him, desiring him, pushed him closer to the edge. His breath came in shallow, ragged gasps.

Fyodor reached out, his fingers brushing against Sigma’s engorged cock, then circled the head, applying a gentle pressure. Sigma cried out, a raw, unrestrained sound.

“...Yes, just like that.“ Fyodor murmured, his voice a silken command. “Show us how much you want it. Show us how good it feels.“

He began to stroke Sigma’s cock, a slow, deliberate rhythm, his fingers gliding over the slick surface.

Sigma’s hips began to thrust, a desperate, involuntary movement, meeting Fyodor’s hand. His eyes were squeezed shut, his face contorted in a mask of intense pleasure. He could hear Nikolai’s ragged breathing, the soft shlicking sound of his own hand on his cock, mirroring Fyodor’s strokes.

“Such a good boy...“ Fyodor praised, his voice deepening, his eyes fixed on Sigma’s face. “You’re so close, aren’t you? You’re going to break for us.“

He increased the speed of his strokes, his fingers pressing firmly against the base of Sigma’s cock, holding him captive as the climax built.

Sigma’s body tensed, every muscle straining. A guttural moan tore from his throat. His head thrashed back and forth, his silver hair a wild halo around his flushed face. He felt the intense pressure building, building, a volcanic eruption just beneath the surface.

“Give it to me, Sigma.“ Fyodor purred, his voice a low growl, a primal urge. “Come for me.“

With a final, desperate cry, Sigma arched his back, his body convulsing as a thick gush of cum erupted from his cock, spraying over Fyodor’s hand, over his own stomach, a hot, sticky release. His body trembled violently, then slumped, boneless, against the back of his chair, panting, his eyes still closed, a sheen of sweat on his skin.

Nikolai, watching the entire spectacle, let out a triumphant roar, his own climax hitting him hard. He squirted a thick stream of cum over his own clothes, his body shaking with the force of his release.

The thought of someone else watching him get this ruined did some undenyiable damage to his brain.

“Magnificent!“ he sighed, his voice hoarse with pleasure. “What a great show you put up for me.“

Fyodor watched Sigma, a faint, satisfied smile on his lips. Now it was his turn after all, and he knew Sigma will be more than eager to please him.

His hand, covered in Sigma’s cum, remained on his cock for a moment longer, feeling the last tremors of his release.

He then slowly withdrew it, bringing his fingers to his mouth, tasting the warm, salty sweetness of Sigma’s essence. He met Nikolai’s gaze, a silent acknowledgment of their shared pleasure, their shared triumph.

Sigma slowly opened his eyes, his gaze unfocused, then slowly landing on Fyodor, then Nikolai. He saw the cum glistening on Fyodor’s fingers, the triumphant, almost feral look in Nikolai’s eyes.

A fresh wave of embarrassment, mingled with a lingering echo of pleasure, washed over him. He was utterly spent, utterly exposed, utterly theirs.

Chapter Text

The air in Nikolai’s apartment hung thick, a cloying blend of stale incense, unwashed fabric, and the sugary scent of cheap cookies.

Every surface groaned under the weight of forgotten treasures: stacks of vinyl records teetered beside taxidermied birds with vacant, glassy eyes, a collection of chipped porcelain dolls stared from a dusty shelf, and vibrant tapestries depicting mythical beasts fought for space on the walls.

It was a kaleidoscope of chaos, a maximalist nightmare crammed into a space far too small, nestled deep within a forgotten corner of the city where the siren wail was a constant, mournful lullaby.

Fyodor himself most of the time wondered why he even bothered to come here, since each visit left him with raging headaches.

Fyodor, a sharp, elegant contrast to the surrounding disarray, sat perched on the edge of Nikolai’s unmade bed, a worn copy of some old russan literature cradled in his long fingers. A ceramic mug, chipped at the rim, steamed gently beside him, its herbal aroma battling the sweetness permeating the room.

He wore nothing of his usual evil masterming dramatic attires. Hell no. He wasn´t working today afterall. But he still missed his comfy cape that always kept him warm. And Fyodor was always cold. Not to mention, Nikolai´s apartment was never warm, not even close to it.

So, Fyodor was freezing in his white hoodie. His gaze, usually so distant and calculating, traced the lines of text with an almost bored focus. Next to him was Nikolai, sprawled amidst a nest of blankets and plush toys, his phone a glowing rectangle in his hand. He wore silly long shirt with cartoon kittens and bright collored sweatpants. It was clear he either got dressed very quickly, or in the absolute darkness.

Crumbs dusted the front of his oversized shirt, a testament to the half-eaten packet of chocolate chip cookies splayed open beside him that he didn´t care much about, and knowing his memory and attention spam, he already forgot he opened them.

His hair, a wild tangle of whitecurls, framed a face that, even in repose, held a spark of manic energy he usually carried around. But, as now mentioned, hsi hair wasnt in a braid, as it usually was seen by the public eye. No, his hair was free from the scrunchee and pins, falling over his shoulders and back. Hoewer, Nikolai wore his hair like this only around special people. Also, not everyone has the permission to call his hair.

We both know who was imune to that rule though...

A soft hum vibrated in his throat as his thumb scrolled through random social media app he just opened, his eyes darting across the screen.

“You’re going to rot your teeth out, you know.” Fyodor’s voice cut through the quiet, a low, smooth rumble. He didn't look up from his book, his tone devoid of any real concern, merely an observation.

Nikolai startled, his phone nearly slipping from his grasp. He blinked, a slow, languid movement, then offered a wide, unrepentant grin, a smear of chocolate clinging to one corner of his mouth.

“Not fair! They’re so good Fedya... And you know I have a sweet tooth. Unlike some people.” his gaze drifted pointedly to Fyodor’s steaming mug as if it personally offended him.

Fyodor finally lifted his head, his dark purple eyes, sharp as crystal shards, met Nikolai’s. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Some of us prefer to keep our minds clear. And our dental hygiene intact.” he returned to his book, a subtle dismissal.

“Oh, love, your mind is never clear...” Nikolai countered, his voice dripping with playful accusation. He pushed himself up, leaning on an elbow, his eyes, bright and insistent, fixed on Fyodor. “It’s a labyrinth of fascinating darkness. And sometimes,” he paused, a conspiratorial whisper, “it hungers for things it shouldn’t.”

“Should I be offended?“ Fyodor turned the page of his book.

“Nooo, it was a compliment, silly.“ Nikolai held out a cookie, a half-moon of golden brown and melted chocolate as a peace offering. “Want a bite? It might corrupt your dark soul.”

Fyodor´s eyes finally peeled from the paper and glared at the offering he was given. He hesitated, but a flicker of something unreadable crossed his features. The scent of warm chocolate and sugar was surprisingly alluring, a stark contrast to his bitter tea.

He reached out, his fingers long and slender, and plucked the cookie from Nikolai’s outstretched hand. His touch was brief, almost clinical. He brought the cookie to his lips, a small, precise bite. The sweetness exploded on his tongue, a rich, decadent flavor. He chewed slowly, annoyed that the pastry was actually good.

“Not entirely unpleasant.” he conceded, a rare admission.

Nikolai watched him, a slow smile spreading across his face, his eyes gleaming with a strange, possessive light. “See? I told you. You just need a little indulgence.”

Nikolai reached for another cookie, his fingers, slender and surprisingly delicate, brushing off the crumbs on the bed dismissively. He brought it to his mouth, taking a bite, then offered the remaining piece to Fyodor again.

Fyodor gave him a disgusted look. “Im not eating that.“

“Oh, cmon. Dont act like we hacent already tasted each other.“

“You are gross.“ Fyodor rolled his eyes, but he leaned in and opened his mouth, gesturing for Nikolai to feed him.

And that, ladies, was one of the rarest Dostoyevsky moments. Why you ask? Because our emotionally constipated master of shadows almost never acted sweet towards Nikolai.

So you know damn well, that Nikolai wouldnt dare to let the moment go. He smirked and put the small piece of cookie into his partner’s mouth.

As he did, Fyodor’s lips and tongue brushed against Nikolai's index finger. A faint sheen of melted chocolate and saliva coated Nikolai’s digit. Without thinking, Fyodor’s tongue flicked out more, a quick, almost reptilian movement, cleaning the stray chocolate from Nikolai’s skin.

A gasp, sharp and sudden, tore from Nikolai’s throat. His eyes, wide and startled, locked with Fyodor’s.

The air in the room seemed to crackle, the comfortable apathy shattering into a charged silence. Nikolai’s eyebrows raised, his chest rising and falling in quick, shallow bursts. He definitelly didn’t expect Fyodor to anticipate in anything today, given that he didn’t talk with him much today.

A flush, dark and immediate, crept up his neck, staining his pale skin. Fyodor caught him off guard, okay?

Fyodor, still enjoying the cookie, froze and side eyed Nikolai’s reaction. He hadn't meant to put any of those feeling upon Nikolai. It was an instinct, sort of.

But the reaction… Nikolai’s pupils dilated, black pools swallowing the vibrant blue of his irises. His lips parted, a silent invitation, or perhaps a plea. A slow, deliberate smile began to bloom on Fyodor’s face, a cold, predatory curve.

Oh.

This might be fun.

He saw the effect, recognized the sudden, raw desire that had flared in Nikolai’s eyes that was quickly hushed with his scaterred mind. He saw the trembling in Nikolai's hand, the way his breath caught.

A game, he realized, had just begun. A game he didn’t expect himself to be participating, but he knew he’d enjoy winning anway.

His gaze never left Nikolai’s, a silent challenge passing between them. Then, with an almost imperceptible shift, he leaned closer. His eyes dropped to Nikolai’s hand, still outstretched out for him a bit. The finger he had just licked seemed to pulse with a newfound energy.

“What’s wrong, Kolya?” Fyodor’s voice was a low murmur, a silken thread unspooling in the charged air.

His tongue, a dark, agile thing, flicked out again, this time tracing the entire length of Nikolai’s index finger, from the tip to the knuckle. He tasted chocolate, yes, but also something else, something distinctly Nikolai: a faint saltiness, a subtle, musky scent that sent a shiver down Fyodor’s spine.

Nikolai whimpered, a soft, strangled sound. His eyes fluttered, then squeezed shut, his head falling back against the pillows.

His breath hitched again, a ragged gasp. “What do you think you’re doing…?” he breathed, his voice barely a whisper, thick with a sudden, overwhelming need.

His body tensed, a taut bowstring ready to snap. Fyodor’s smile widened, a cruel, beautiful thing. He felt the tremor running through Nikolai’s body, the desperate yearning radiating from him.

He never knew Nikolai would enjoy such a mild and stupid touch this much. And yet...

This was precisely the kind of reaction he craved, the kind of exquisite control he savored. He took Nikolai’s finger between his lips, a slow, torturous motion. His tongue swirled around the tip, pressing against the soft pad, then dipped into the small crevice where the nail met the skin.

He drew on it gently, a soft sound echoing in the sudden quiet of the room. Nikolai arched his back, a low groan escaping his throat. His hips twitched, a restless, involuntary movement. His free hand found Fyodor’ jaw and he held it, either to restrain Fyodor from pulling away, or for moral support.

“Oh, God, Fyodor...” he gasped, his voice raw, pleading.

Fyodor ignored him. He wasn’t interested in stopping now, not when he found something new to torment Nikolai with. The jester humiliated him many times now with their growing relationship. It was only fair for Fyodor to do the same now.

He increased the pressure, sucking harder, his lips forming a tight seal around Nikolai’s finger. His teeth scraped lightly against the nail, a tiny, almost painful sensation that sent another jolt through Nikolai.

He pulled the finger deeper into his mouth, his tongue swirling around it, mimicking the motion of a lover’s touch. The sweetness of the cookie was long forgotten, replaced by the intoxicating taste of Nikolai’s skin, his desire. Nikolai writhed, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His legs tangled in the blankets, his body a trembling mess of arousal.

“Feyda, you bastard...” he choked out, a laugh mingling with a low moan. “You know what you’re doing.”

“Do I?” Fyodor’s voice was muffled, his lips still wrapped around Nikolai’s finger. He pulled back slightly, just enough to speak, his dark eyes glittering with amusement. “I’m merely enjoying a snack. You offered, after all.”

He then drew the finger back into his mouth, sucking with renewed vigor, his tongue pressing against the underside, then sweeping over the top. He could feel the pulse thrumming in Nikolai’s digit, a frantic beat against his tongue. Nikolai groaned, his head throwing back, his imagination for surer running wild.

His eyes were still squeezed shut, his face a mask of exquisite torment. His free hand now fumbled at the waistband of his sweatpants, a desperate, unconscious movement.

“Ugh, stop teasing me..” he hissed, voice embarassingly low. “Just touch me already. You know where i need you.”

Fyodor’s lips pulled away from Nikolai’s finger with a soft pop, leaving it slick and glistening. He held it for a moment, examining it as if it were a rare jewel, then slowly, deliberately, brought it to his own lips again, running his tongue over the tip, savoring the taste. His eyes, dark and unblinking, never left Nikolai’s face.

“Touch you?” Fyodor’s voice was a low, dangerous purr. “And ruin the suspense? Where’s the fun in that, Nikolai?” he leaned in closer, his breath, warm and sweet, ghosting across Nikolai’s ear. “You’re so transparent, my dear. I can practically taste your desperation.”

He bit gently on the tip of Nikolai’s finger, a tiny nip that made Nikolai yelp. Nikolai’s entire body shuddered. He opened his eyes, wide and glazed with lust, staring up at Fyodor with a mixture of adoration and pure, unadulterated need.

“You’re a monster.” Nikolai whispered, but there was no malice in his voice, only a profound sense of surrender. “A beautiful, horrible monster.”

Fyodor chuckled, a low, guttural sound that sent shivers down Nikolai’s spine. “And you, Kolya, are my willing victim for tonight.”

He took Nikolai’s finger into his mouth again, not just the tip, but almost the entire digit, his lips stretching wide. His tongue swirled around it, a relentless, intoxicating dance. He sucked deeply, a powerful vacuum that pulled at Nikolai’s very core. He pressed his teeth gently against the knuckle, then scraped them along the bone, sending a fresh wave of sensation through Nikolai.

Nikolai whimpered, his body arching violently off the bed. His hips thrust forward, grinding against the mattress. A low, guttural moan rumbled in his chest, escaping as a strangled cry. He was panting now, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his face flushed a deep crimson.

His free hand let go of the other man, reached out, blindly grasping for something, anything, to anchor himself. Fyodor pulled the finger from his mouth, slick and wet, a soft sound filling the air. He held it up, inspecting it, then met Nikolai’s gaze.

His eyes were dark, unreadable, but a dangerous glint shone within their depths. “You’re practically begging me to suck you off... You’re pathetic.” he observed, his voice calm, almost detached, a stark contrast to the raw desire emanating from Nikolai.

Nikolai nodded, a frantic, desperate movement. Unlike Fyodor, Nikolai was shameless in his needs and always quick to voice what he wanted “Whatever you say... He trailed off, unable to articulate the depth of his craving.

Fyodor’s smile returned, a slow, deliberate unfolding of his lips. He took Nikolai’s hand, the one he had just been sucking, and brought it to his own mouth again. But this time, he didn’t just suck the finger. He licked the palm, tracing the lines with his tongue, then ran it over the back of the hand, tasting the faint saltiness of Nikolai’s skin, the subtle musk of his arousal.

His tongue darted between each finger, cleaning them meticulously, as if preparing them for a sacred ritual. Nikolai watched him, mesmerized, his breath still coming in ragged gasps. His body trembled, a constant, uncontrollable tremor.

He felt a strange mix of humiliation and ecstasy, a potent cocktail that sent his senses reeling. “You want me to touch you, Nikolai?” Fyodor finally asked, his voice a low, seductive whisper.

He ran his tongue over Nikolai’s thumb, then sucked it gently, a soft, insistent pull. “You want my touch?” Nikolai nodded again, his eyes wide and pleading.

“More than anything, Fyodor. Please...” Fyodor pulled the thumb from his mouth. He held Nikolai’s hand firmly, his grip surprisingly strong.

“Then I will give you what you desire.” his eyes, dark and unblinking, met Nikolai’s. “But not in the way you expect.”

A shiver, cold and sharp, ran down Nikolai’s spine, cutting through the haze of lust. He watched, bewildered, as Fyodor slowly, deliberately, brought Nikolai’s own hand, the one he had just been sucking, to Fyodor’s own crothc.¨

Nikolai’s eyes widened further, a gasp escaping his lips. His hand, still slick with Fyodor’s saliva, hovered inches from the taut fabric of Fyodor’s pristine white trousers. He could feel the heat radiating from beneath the cloth, the undeniable presence of Fyodor’s erection. He pressed Nikolai’s fingers against the rigid mound beneath his trousers, a silent command.

Nikolai’s fingers curled there, almost involuntary touch. He felt the hard, unyielding length beneath the fabric, the throbbing pulse. A jolt, electric and raw, shot through him. His breath paused with his own arousal, his eyes still locked with Fyodor’s, a desperate, questioning gaze.

He then took Nikolai’s hand again, his eyes gleaming with a wicked amusement. “I said, I will give you what you desire. But I will do the touching.”

Nikolai watched, utterly confused, as Fyodor slowly, meticulously moved his own hand to the button fly of his trousers. His movements were precise, unhurried, each action a deliberate stroke in his carefully orchestrated torment.

Fyodor’s smile was a cruel, beautiful thing. He slowly, deliberately, unbuttoned his trousers, one button at a time, his gaze never leaving Nikolai’s. The fabric parted, revealing a sliver of pale skin, then the dark, straining fabric of his underwear.

Nikolai’s breath caught in his throat. His eyes darted from Fyodor’s face to the slowly revealing expanse of his crotch, a mixture of arouusal and insatiable curiosity warring within him.

He felt a sudden, inexplicable dread, a premonition of the exquisite torture that was about to unfold. Fyodor pushed his trousers down slightly, just enough to expose the dark fabric of his briefs, which strained against the impressive bulge beneath.

His fingers, long and elegant, reached into the waistband, then slowly, painfully so, pulled down the material.

Nikolai gasped, a sharp, choked sound. His eyes widened, fixing on the sight that was slowly, tantalizingly, revealed. Fyodor’s cock, thick and engorged, sprang free, a magnificent, throbbing column of flesh, dark against the pale skin of his thighs. A bead of pre-cum glistened at its tip, a clear, pearlescent drop.

“Oh?” Nikolai breathed, his voice a mere whisper, laced with awe at his partners body. His gaze was riveted, unable to tear itself away. Fyodor held Nikolai’s hand, his grip firm.

He brought Nikolai’s index finger, still slick with his own saliva, to the tip of his cock. Nikolai’s eyes widened further, a silent smirk trapped in his throat. He watched, utterly mesmerized, as Fyodor slowly, deliberately, guided Nikolai’s finger to the glistening head of his cock.

Fyodor’s own fingers wrapped around Nikolai’s, controlling every movement, every millimeter of contact. Nikolai felt the soft, velvety skin of Fyodor’s glans against his fingertip, the warmth radiating from the pulsing shaft. A shiver, deep and profound, wracked his body. His hips thrust forward again, a desperate, involuntary movement. Fyodor’s gaze, dark and unblinking, bored into Nikolai’s.

He slowly, meticulously, guided Nikolai’s finger, his own fingers still wrapped around it, along the length of his cock. Up and down, a slow, teasing stroke. Nikolai could feel the subtle ridges, the pulsing vein beneath the skin. The pre-cum, slick and warm, coated his fingertip.

Fyodor whimpered, a low, guttural sound of pure agony and ecstasy. His body trembled violently, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His eyes were wide, glazed with lust, fixed on the hypnotic movement of his finger.

Fyodor’s smile was a predatory slash across his face. “You like what you see, Nikolai?” His voice was a low, seductive whisper, a silken thread of torment. He pressed Nikolai’s finger harder against the shaft, mimicking the pressure of a skilled hand. He dragged it slowly down, then up, then down again, each movement agonizingly deliberate.

Nikolai’s entire body was a taut, trembling mess. He was panting now, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts. His free hand clenched into a fist, his nails digging into the soft flesh of his palm.

“You’re so close, aren’t you, Nikolai?” Fyodor murmured, his voice a low, dangerous purr. He pressed Nikolai’s finger against the underside of his cock, near the base, then dragged it up to the tip, coating it in more pre-cum. “So ready to spill your pathetic little seed, just from watching me.”

Nikolai’s head thrashed against the pillow, a silent scream of agony. He was on the verge, teetering on the precipice of oblivion, his body screaming for release. “Fyodor, please!” he choked out, his voice hoarse, broken. ´Don’t...

Fyodor chuckled, a low, cruel sound. “Oh, but I will... I will make you come. And you will watch every single drop.” He increased the speed of the strokes, guiding Nikolai’s finger with a relentless, hypnotic rhythm. Then, auddenly Fyodor stopped and huided Nikolais index finger close to his hole. With not much of a thought, he pushed Nikolai’ finger inside himself. And, just like that, Nikolai sensed his chance and began to abuse Fyodor’s entrance.

Fyodor’s body convulsed, a violent, uncontrollable tremor. His eyes rolled back in his head, a guttural groan tearing from his throat. He thrashed, his legs tangling in the sheets, his hips thrusting wildly.

“A! Oh, God! I’m… I’m…Fuck”

A thick, viscous stream of cum erupted from Fyodor’s cock, coating Nikolai’s sheets, then spilling onto Fyodor’s own hand, which still held Nikolai’s. The cum was warm, thick, and surprisingly abundant, a milky white river flowing over their entwined fingers.

Nikolai hissed, a strangled, desperate sound, as his own body, unable to withstand the relentless assault, bucked and spasmed. A torrent of his own cum stained his pants. His body went rigid, then collapsed, a trembling, gasping heap.

“That was nasty.” Nikolai complained, his voice raw.

Fyodor chuckled, a low, guttural sound. He brought Nikolai’s cum-coated finger to his own lips, tasting it, savoring the salty flavor. “And you loved every moment of it, didn’t you, Nikolai?”

He licked the finger clean, then, brought it to Nikolai’s own mouth. “Taste me, my dear. Taste the exquisite shame.”

Nikolai rolled his eyes, his eyes wide, but the raw, animalistic need that still pulsed within him was too strong to resist. He slowly, tentatively, opened his mouth.

Fyodor guided the finger in, pressing it against Nikolai’s tongue. “Now,” Fyodor said, his voice calm and even, as if the last few minutes had never happened. “Where were we?”