Major Raikov (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
majorbonerkiller) wrote2010-12-18 03:42 am
majorbonerkiller) wrote2010-12-18 03:42 am
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FISSIONMAILED: Apartment complex
Well Ivan certainly didn't remember leaving the door to his apartment wide open, just beckoning squatters to come shit on his carpet--or even worse, eat his food.
Not that they weren't all squatters here anyway. Ivan crouched down near the door frame, pulling out his tranquilizer gun. He peered over the threshold, and took a chance, hoping his dog was still here--and still alive.
"Galina! Here girl!"
When he heard the familiar patter and panting he sighed in relief, ruffling her ears when she was close enough, "Good girl." Curse himself for smiling at a time like this.
Slightly more confident now with his canine comrade, Ivan entered the dark apartment, keeping his footsteps quiet and his tranquilizer at the ready.
And he almost immediately tripped over his own dirty laundry, screaming in the process of mid-falling terror. Luckily his amazing acrobatic skills (catching himself on the dresser) came to the rescue.
Moving forward towards the center of the room Ivan could hear--breathing. He baited his breath, trying to hold back any instincts to just start shooting up the place. He was fueled by a sort of cocktail of terror and anger--how dare somebody come waltzing into his apartment thinking they own the goddamn place?!
He padded closer, towards the sounds of life--they must be on the couch, since he just knocked his knee on the coffee table and had to hiss in silent agony a moment before going on.
Finally steadying himself he located the perpetrator's head after several seconds (a whole minute of squinting) and pressed the muzzle of his gun against it, "Get up!"
Not that they weren't all squatters here anyway. Ivan crouched down near the door frame, pulling out his tranquilizer gun. He peered over the threshold, and took a chance, hoping his dog was still here--and still alive.
"Galina! Here girl!"
When he heard the familiar patter and panting he sighed in relief, ruffling her ears when she was close enough, "Good girl." Curse himself for smiling at a time like this.
Slightly more confident now with his canine comrade, Ivan entered the dark apartment, keeping his footsteps quiet and his tranquilizer at the ready.
And he almost immediately tripped over his own dirty laundry, screaming in the process of mid-falling terror. Luckily his amazing acrobatic skills (catching himself on the dresser) came to the rescue.
Moving forward towards the center of the room Ivan could hear--breathing. He baited his breath, trying to hold back any instincts to just start shooting up the place. He was fueled by a sort of cocktail of terror and anger--how dare somebody come waltzing into his apartment thinking they own the goddamn place?!
He padded closer, towards the sounds of life--they must be on the couch, since he just knocked his knee on the coffee table and had to hiss in silent agony a moment before going on.
Finally steadying himself he located the perpetrator's head after several seconds (a whole minute of squinting) and pressed the muzzle of his gun against it, "Get up!"
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But, Volgin, aside from his own rapture, remained amused: The younger man just came, and yet there he was, giggling like an eager banshee, trying to pull himself back to arousal and erection. Not even in his youth he could do that, unless he took as long as possible in pleasing him until he could again.
Oops. Everything for the giant to gain, either way.
"But you wanted it that badly, Ivan. I obliged." Volgin pressed a palm against the wall, soon face-fucking Raikov with his other hand, now tightly clutching into his white scalp. It was getting difficult to hold his building charge in.
He started to fiddle, normally talented in his means of trying to get his boots off while receiving a skilled blowjob that was running along the lines of "mind-blowing", but these were jackboots trying to come off. Not going to happen.
"Ivan." It hurt, in his painfully throbbing arousal burning at every nerve along his dick for more, to pull Raikov away. "A minute.
"For your sake."
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"Already...?" He teased, running a finger up Volgin's cock before settling back against the wall with a heavy sigh. He worked his jaw a bit, stretching the kinks out of it.
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He found he had to very awkwardly sit himself down to fully slide the boots off and the rest of his clothing with it. His erection was sagging. Concern and all the worst scenarios playing out in one's head was effective when it came to cock-softening.
Volgin was pretty impressive in his nudity, with his network of scars marring his entire body, the dark patterning of some asymmetrical predator. He had faded numbers stamped along his right ankle, a smaller hint to the larger denotation of his status as an experiment staining his back.
(One of Stalin's dirty secrets, hidden under Moscow in her white belly, within a womb of wiring as her humming heart. No need for coal or fuel to power her... Hff!)
He shook his head, shaking those ... memories away. He caught his gaze on his ankle.
Grunt.
Taking the discarded suit, it was placed on the floor, Volgin mumbling as he nudged Ivan's legs as a hint, "Ivan... Ivan, sit on this. Don't touch anything else but me and that, alright?"
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"What about when you fuck me?"
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Of course he noticed, Raikov.
"You could live in that suit if you needed to, Ivan." He rose back to his feet again. "If you are too big for that, I will wonder what's wrong. Your hands and knees on the rubber. All times. No contact with the floor because it will hurt. Not how you like it, either, Vanya.
"Understood?"
However, Volgin teasingly stepped away, the massive cock with it. It felt good to let his body naturally want to be a live wire, like taking a good shit after holding it in for so long really, but sometimes, as he was aware, that Raikov needed reminding of what exactly it was that he was fucking. He better be positioned proper.
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He wiggled his behind. "Come on~."
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Raikov felt the large hand on his ass, his other gripping himself as he positioned and probed for the opening. When he reached his mark, the cockhead pressed.
"Relax," was all Volgin offered with a small moment, before he ventured into a place his penile portions were very intimately familiar with.
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He hardly needed to be told to relax, only uttering a small strangled moan and biting down on his lower lip as Volgin entered him.
"Oohhh...yes..."
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Seemed safe.
"The electricity is on." Grunt. Volgin could not press in too deep either; electrical stimulation of the prostate very much dictated when Raikov would come. Certainly not now, given that he was still needing time to get it back up anyway. The younger man could feel the quick thrusts his partner made as he settled on a rhythm that pleased him.
"Don't. Touch. Anything."
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"I know..."
It wasn't how Volgin's electricity usually felt--a short, sudden burst accompanied by blinding light and pain. This was different; his whole body subtly vibrating from the muted electricity coursing through him and then back out Yevgeny.
When combined with those thrusts--heaven. Heaven, heaven, heaven. If only he'd go deeper--press inside him until he was full and still aching for more.
Ivan opened his eyes briefly and made sure he wasn't about to slip off the suit.
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Thus was his standard of mode of sustaining continued human contact until he died (again).
It was just easier to kill them.
Grunt. Stop that. Think on that later. What about that hot tightness surrounding you? Think about that. Make him squeal and beg. Ah...
Raikov always appreciated an element of danger, didn't he...?
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"H-harder...hff. I know you," a gasp, "can do better than that."
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Raikov's massive beast of a man for a partner was letting a slow, smug sneer spread along his face. Ivan could not see his glinting eyes, the long, striping scars accenting his predatory nature all the more. But, he could still hear, and his tone had darkened:
"You're mistaking my caution for meekness."
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"Mmhhm...I'm hard again..."
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Volgin had to reach down, and under, to feel. Grip. Maybe tease it a little more, just to make sure. Ivan could feel the looming presence of his partner's leaning and shuffling, a slight weight perhaps. The soft hand was warm and deceptively gentle at first, before harshly clutching at the base and groping along the length to his balls with all the usual hints of his favor towards sheer brutality.
A fingertip teased that little scrotum with a slight, simple motion.
Ivan was a lovely creature. He was above being shredded and beaten, as the rest deserved.
"Just making sure," he breathily panted in the direction of that ear obscured by that head of pure white hair.
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"Keep that up...and I'll come early," he warned in a breath, eyes closed and brows concentrated on the overload of sensations.
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"I'm not going to stop fucking you if you blow it, my dear." Chuckle. He recovered his rhythm, careful to avoid electrically stimulating the prostate despite insulation (among the usual of not cooking his partner with a single slip). "But I've yet to hear you complain."
That hand around Raikov's member remained, not helping the younger man much at all. His harshness slowed down to two fingers forming a tight V along the shaft to the base, flowing into the crook of his palm back up to the glans. There might have been a quick fondle of his balls here and there, for variety.
There might have been an internal humming, a dangerous, deadly sound to pick up on the air for any man, but perhaps something else for Ivan. A teasing noise.
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Despite what he said, even the slightest, shiver-inducing touches to his cock were sending him closer and closer to the edge. Each rock of his own hips back to meet Volgin's were a burst of pure ecstasy. His arms were getting tired; it'd been while since he'd used this position.
"Zhenya..."
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But still, Volgin asked:
"Yes, my little Vanya?"
His hand grasped around as much cock as it could, which was not a terribly difficult feat given the size of it versus the size of Ivan's length. It was closing around him dangerously. There was a tension in Volgin's hand, like he was priming something.
It might have been all too easy to figure out exactly what it was.
"What was this about you finishing before me?"
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"I said it's not going to happen," backing down from a challenge wasn't something Ivan liked to do--even if it seemed futile. Volgin may have the advantage of using his hands, but Ivan still had his ass--which let tighten around Volgin while grinding his hips back.
"Don't you want to come~?"
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But, when in doubt, he still had that prostate of Raikov's to fall back on, if things were getting... too tense. Still, there was a husky grunt strained out of him; the Major knew how to control himself back there.
He delayed the approaching, controlled joy of sharing his electrical nature for one moment. He had an honest question:
"You've been practicing. For the other one, eh?"
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"Nothing...I didn't know before I, mmh, came here."
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But, Volgin only offered his efforts an unseen smirk.
The only warning was a twitch in the larger man's arm, and then that familiar moment of white. In a grounded setting, it took much more out of Volgin to playfully electrocute someone (it was easier to simply kill them, not unlike delicately painting hair with a thread versus throwing a bucket at it), but with enough voltage to power a city in his chest and blood, he could still offer Raikov some stimulation.
But the charge was concentrated in his hand. His cockhead teased Ivan's prostate, a reminder of the ace in his sleeve.
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"Oh! Nnn--no!" He gasped out his defeat as he came, moaning, muscles tightening around Volgin as he finished. His cock pulsed and spilled itself over the larger man's hand and suit. Hot and sticky white.
Ivan hung his head, taking in heavy breathes. Dammit.
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Volgin slowed his rhythm down, his triumphant cackle low. He was not going to come as he gloated; he wanted to be heard.
"That was only one pulse, dearest Ivan. Did the fat take your sexual stamina's place?"
Ivan had his side pinched with semen-stained fingers for added insult to injury.
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