majorbonerkiller | FISSIONMAILED: Apartment complex

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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!"

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"Mmhmm," vibrated Raikov's partner, flashing him a very dangerous eye from beneath his heavy brows. The younger man was not as large in comparison to the other way around; he was much easier to take regardless of the dictation of his white hips.

Ivan writhed his hips, and almost lost his balance against the pillar. "Mmm...Yevgeny...your mouth is so warm..."

"Yourff staffing fee offeumph." As matter-of-fact one could get with a penis in their mouth.

Volgin, fortunately, had a decent sense of balance, and luckily for Raikov, he was not going to be dropped any time soon if he could help it. The other hand that was supporting his partner's body was making decent means of compensating for whatever pretzaling his snowy self felt like trying to accomplish within the older man's grasp.

Ivan snerked, petting that graying head; "Don't talk with your mouth full~"

Volgin rolled a low growl, Raikov soon after finding himself taken in completely and softy. His graying partner let him take that in (a bit of willpower; unlike Raikov, he had a fairly functional gag reflex) before pulling away with the grazing of his teeth along his shaft.

"Ohoo-ohh...," Ivan shuddered at those teeth against his cock, fingers kneading at Volgin's scalp to in a silent plea for more.

At least it stopped Ivan from considering his next terrible line.

Really, it was enough for Volgin to oblige and treat him to the same experience again, pulling completely out the second go to kiss around and along the shaft again. Raikov's cock was slickened and shining with his lover's, or an incarnation of his lover's, spit.

"Ahh...come on, Zhenya," he licked his lips, running a hand over the nape of his neck. "I want to feel your teeth against my cock again."

"Nnn?" Raikov indeed felt teeth again, as Volgin seized him in his mouth from the side. There was a tiny hint of his eye revealed from under the brows again. It carried a glimmer of playful defiance.

"Nn! Oh...that kind of hurts," despite what he said his voice was as sultry as ever, eyes half-lidded in lust.

"You keep that up and I'm going to come..."

Volgin let go, nuzzling and speaking against Raikov's dick. His large nose was as warm as the rest of him.

"Now," he purred, "where do I want it, if I don't swallow...?"

"Heh...why wouldn't you swallow? It's good for you...," he sighed, aching for Volgin's mouth again.

"I thought it was your face that did it," Volgin murmured, taking the base of Raikov's cock to take him inside again. He could feel his partner's breath against his cockhead: "Semen facials. Quite beautiful on you, I would say."

Down his mouth went.

"Everything looks good on me," he tilts his head back with a groan, hips arching up to meet Volgin's hot mouth.

"Okay, Zhenya...if you want my cum on your face," a ragged breath, "you can have it."

A chuckle, as Volgin pulled up for words.

"And I would know."

Down again. Suck and savor, tongue along the stiffness. His own cock was straining in the sensual rank of his saliva and Raikov's musk.

Up:

"You're hinting at something."

Down. Tease him along, have him brush the Point of No Return, but not let him teeter over into it. Just right there.

"Mmhmm...maybe...," Ivan sucked in a breath, dripping precum over Volgin's lips as he pulled back.

"Yevgeny...," he groaned.

Volgin could taste it. It tasted different from the Raikov he knew at the Academy, but it was very much Raikov's. It was quite lovely.

But, he was intentionally holding back, enough teasing to keep Raikov quite hard but letting what was a buildup to orgasm exchange itself out for frustration.

Ivan didn't take long to vocalize that frustration:

"Yevgenyyy...come on. I want to come."

"Just a little more," was a velvety murmur of his lover, kissing again, palming the younger man's balls. The rubber was smooth yet considerably thick, lacking ridges unlike the original red gloves that normally accompanied his uniform.

"I never make you wait this long," followed a small growl of growing sexual frustration

"What are you going to do? Top me?"

Ivan was at a loss for words. In retaliation: he pouted with a knitted brow.

With that, Volgin was off to finish the pouty Raikov (he loved that pout); see if he could still keep that expression when he was taken back in. His jaw was not even sore, something Raikov might have not have been able to say otherwise when the roles were exchanged.

Volgin adjusted his grip, attuned to when Raikov approached the cusp of orgasm again.

Predictably, that look wavered as quick as Ivan's temper. He took in ragged breathes, soft moans driving past his lips; his hips pressed desperately up against Volgin's mouth.

"Ah--ahh...close..."

There.

Volgin knew that sweet spot, enough to have him pull away and bring his hand in, to finish Raikov off and appropriately aim. The younger man could feel him shift and adjust his grip; he should have switched supporting arms, but they were almost done.

A little more and...

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