majorbonerkiller | FISSIONMAILED: Apartment complex

Entry tags:

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!"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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...

Ivan gritted his teeth, arching his back and uttering a harsh grunt as he came--finally.

It was only a minute later after opening his eyes he realized they'd been closed--and he missed the show. Ivan sucked in a breath, reaching a pale hand forward to smear his seed more evenly across Volgin's face.

Shallow breathes and a coy smile followed, "You look good like that."

And indeed, Volgin had aimed, Raikov's release marking the older man across his nose and broad forehead. He was a hard target to miss anyway.

Still, he cocked a brow and closed his eyes as those pale, thin fingers painted him up in his mark.

Rubbing it in. Just as his little Ivan should. Bastard. Heeh...

There was a low growl, as he adjusted his grip around Raikov, his arms getting tired, but he still leaned in: "Keeps me young, doesn't it?"

Ivan pulled his hand back, cum stained fingers pressing against his bottom lip with a smirk.

"You should get facials more often, Yevgeny."

The growl rolled off into a questioning grunt. They were now quickly closing distance and nearly face to face.

"Are you saying I look old?"

Ivan's eyebrows arched, bewildered. He never was very perceptive when it came to subtext.

"What--no, of course not, Zhenya."

The cum-painted, marred face came even closer to that perfect, younger one.

"Compared to other men my age?" Another low, disapproving grunt. "I'm hardly 'old'. I can break most men half my age-" he pressed in to kiss at Raikov's lovely little lips, brushing them likely as he finished "- with just my two hands. Hardly an effort."

At this distance, Volgin should surely see those blonde eyelashes flutter.

"Of course, Yevgeny...," he smiled, licking the older mans lips briefly as he pulled away.

"You just look good with cum on your face."

Beautif-

Raikov's feet were indeed able to touch the floor again as Volgin had been adjusting the both of them and was in the process of gently setting him down.

The pillar did not prove to be a very good place in regards to keeping the flighty, smaller man in his clutches. Normally, he could have placed an arm on either side of him to keep him where he wanted but...

"Vanya, Vanya... You're not going to clean this mess you made, are you?"

... Amidst the toilet paper and poptarts and remains of that table.

"We're done already?" he smirked, running a hand up the larger man's chest as he closed the distance between them--again.

Ivan had to stand onto his tip-toes, leveraging himself with a fistful of Volgin's shirt--but he managed to lick some of the remaining cum off his face.

Oh, Ivan. Here Volgin was, leaning in. He had plenty for him to clean.

(Just wait until it was dry.)

"Playing hard to get then?"

He chuckled in response, settling back down onto his feet.

"No...but don't you want to get off first?" Ivan's hand slithered down Volgin's chest to his groin, squeezing him mercilessly.

"Nnn..." Raikov very much felt those large loins press into his grip, as the larger Soviet hissed delightfully. Such beautiful pressure. "Now..." Volgin had controlled his own lustful needs during Raikov's servicing, enough to keep focus on his current task; his usual mode of operation, really. Now, his voice was a husky purr, a tone Raikov might have been all too familiar with: "You would think I would let you get away... without my end of satisfaction, yes?"

Should have fucked him against the wall. His thick arms wanted to pin him. Get himself hard and worked up as Raikov struggled in his grasp into submission.

"Mmm...," he ran his fingers down, stroking him firmly through the fabric of his pants. These were well trained hands.

"Of course not..." Ivan wasn't hard himself--not again, not yet--but he still had a spark in his eyes. "How should I return the favour, Yevgeny?"

Anything to keep Raikov from thinking about the state of his apartment. Keep your eyes on me. Just think about that cock your playing with...

Besides, trying to get the mighty Yevgeny Borisovich Volgin down from his usual controlled, perceptively unshakable self was a game in itself, wasn't it?

He might have been coaxing, through the pressing of his groin region, Raikov against a more trapping wall.

"I'm quite fond of surprises." A rolling purr. "To think, I am all yours."

Fucking him senseless on his hands and knees in the debris and broken furniture, everything in the damn apartment soon bearing his mark of presence, sounded pretty good too.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject