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Under normal circumstances, Fedyor would be pleased to see the General’s carriage and escort pulling into their encampment. The thunderous sound of many hooves, the wheels of the carriage spinning effortlessly.
Today, he only feels a minor twinge of dismay, of discomfort brewing inside of him. Like a thundercloud in the distance, looming ominously.
It isn’t the arrival of the General that has him feeling this way; it’s more so who always accompanies the General on these outings to the field of war. It’s the who that Fedyor has no desire to see, even if the unsaid who has been on his mind for nights on end.
Two months worth of nights, to be exact, if anyone were to be counting.
A crowd is gathering, eager to see the Darkling, eager to view and greet the venerated Grisha that travel with him. Fedyor remains at a safe distance, pretending to be interested in the maps of the Northern territory.
If anyone notices his disinterest in greeting the newcomers, they keep silent about it. Normally, he’s the sort to be at the front, beaming, excited to push every button Ivan possesses, eager to catch up with his closest friend. Eager to swap tales of glory.
Friend. Is that what they are these days? Fedyor isn’t sure, really.
It’s been on his mind. Endlessly. Thinking about that night that the General held a lavish ball, as he often does, at the Little Palace. Full of elegance, good food, and even better wine. Fedyor had been mingling, smiling, charming everyone. There’d been a few gals more than willing to go to bed with him that night, he’d been certain enough of that. Their hands, dancing over his arms, fluttering eyelashes as he danced with them, allowing them to press close on the dancefloor, indecently so.
He’d eventually found Ivan brooding in some ill-lit corner, nursing some sort of ale, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else in the world. Typical Ivan; not the life of the party with no desire to be so. Handsome, stoic, and brooding. Dangerous.
{“With an expression like that, you’re certain to scare all the girls away,” Fedyor had said with a snicker.
Ivan scoffed, though his shoulders relaxed slightly at his approach. “I don’t have the same fondness for them crawling all over me. Unlike you.”
Fedyor’s eyebrows rose with interest at the hidden snipe, because he wasn’t quite sure why Ivan cared about such a trivial thing. “My my. Claws out tonight with you, is it? Maybe I’ll just-”
He made as if to go, but his friend’s eyes softened slightly and his hand grasped Fedyor’s bicep. “Stay. I didn’t mean what I said.”
“You always mean what you say.”
There was an alcohol haze in those eyes as they watched him. “Fine. I didn’t mean to say it the way I did.”
Accepting the words for what they were, Fedyor joined him at his side, smirking a bit as he looked out at the full ballroom. “Maybe I see the appeal of being a voyeur over here. I have a clear view of Zoya making an utter ass of herself with the General. When will she ever learn?”
Sipping his ale, Ivan said flatly, “She’s always panting after him like a bitch in heat.”
Ah. Ever the harsh voice in the room, Ivan was. Perhaps that’s what Fedyor liked about him. He was blunt and more real than anyone Fedyor knew.
Their sides were pressed against each other in comfortable companionship and it didn’t take long for their breathing to sync, blood pressure evening out in a singular pace. Close friendship between heartrenders…there was nothing like it. A dizzying sensation of being together, deeply familiar to each other on a level few others could understand.
Tipping his wine into his mouth, Fedyor had grinned up at his friend. “I mean, I think the panting could work if only he weren’t so utterly disinterested.”
Ivan made a noise of disdain, the corner of his mouth pulling upwards into a hint of a sneer. “You would think so, wouldn’t you? I bet you’d be into that.”
What the hell had been with him, that night? Fedyor hadn’t seen the signs, like a fool. Hadn’t paid heed to the jealous tone.
“Alright, prickly panda,” Fedyor had whispered into Ivan’s ear teasingly. “What would I be into? Being panted after? Yeah. Maybe I like that. Going to scold me for it? Tell me what a naughty, naughty boy I’ve been?”
Ivan looked at him from the corner of his eye. “Do you want me to?” It seems like a loaded question and Fedyor had felt himself flush. His mouth felt dry, somehow, even with wine at his fingertips.
Before he could stop himself, Fedyor asked, “Wanna get out of here? I know how much you hate parties anyway.” He didn’t mean for it to be sexual in nature, more so just a typical, ‘let’s escape and hang out’ sort of thing.
Ivan’s mouth was near his ear, alcohol fresh on his breath. Voice low. “Take me to your room?”
There was something in his eyes. Something that Fedyor shouldn’t have ignored. Something that made his insides flutter. Something that made him think, why not? Why not test the waters with someone who had his heart?
But maybe…maybe he shouldn’t have played with fire and maybe he shouldn’t have done it with someone so important to him. Maybe he shouldn’t have opened himself up to get hurt.}
He doesn’t want to dwell on the way it felt when Ivan followed him to his room that night, close on his heels like a prowling tiger, his breath hot on the back of Fedyor’s neck. How, in the privacy of Fedyor’s chambers, Ivan’s teeth sank into his throat, marking him.
The things they did in his bed. The sounds Fedyor made for him. His closest, oldest friend. All because it seemed like the thing to do at the moment, hazy with liquor, utterly soothed by their physical familiarity, the ease in which Fedyor gladly gave up control of the situation.
It seemed like such a bloody damn good idea at the time, when they were alone in his room.
Fucking hell.
Fedyor’s gut twists as he stares off at the arrivals. The General’s carriage and entourage. Ivan, a proud and tall figure with stone cut features, just beside the Darkling. It pains Fedyor to admit that he knows the sound of Ivan’s heart, even from this distance. How just hearing it makes his heart beat a little faster. It hurts, it hurts, and it isn’t fair.
They’ve not seen each other, let alone even spoken to each other since that night.
The night that Fedyor found something he wanted and Ivan did the same, only Ivan turned and ran from it instead of keeping it for his own, because the next morning, Ivan hadn’t been in Fedyor’s bed and that had stung worse than any wound.
Fedyor doesn’t exactly go out of his way to avoid Ivan after his arrival, but Fedyor also doesn’t go out of his way to approach him either. No, Fedyor has things to do, as it stands. Duty and all that jazz. Which is fine. He’s happy to focus on anything to keep his mind off the way he can’t stop thinking about-
“Fedyor! I didn’t see you at our arrival earlier.” Zoya’s smooth voice curls over his eardrums. She grins at him as she approaches, eyes glancing dismissively over the paperwork before him. “You and your very charming smile. Has the front kept you so busy that you couldn’t come say hello?”
It isn’t difficult to conjure the charming smile that she speaks of. He’s good at plastering it on his face when he needs to, even if he doesn’t feel it in his heart. “It’s not called the front for no reason, Zoya. But yes, very busy. We’ve had difficulties with the Fjerdan’s more nights than I can count.”
She sniffs a bit, as if displaying her disinterest in it all. “Well, we’re here now to lend a hand. You needn’t carry such a burden alone.”
“Never said I was.” It comes out a bit sharper than he anticipated and Fedyor softens his eyes to try and cover it up. It’s all that bloody resentment that’s built up inside of him, like a poison. He has to remind himself that while Ivan never wrote him any letters, Fedyor didn’t send any either.
How would one write such a letter anyhow? Would it start out like, oh hey, how have you been since that night you slipped out of my bed after making me sees stars more than once? What a splendidly awkward fucking letter that would have been. It would have reeked of desperation and Fedyor is not desperate.
It’s not like he hasn’t slipped the bed of other people before. He has. Only, Ivan meant more and Fedyor should have meant more to him-
The awful feeling in his belly builds like a disease and Fedyor wishes he could cut it out with a blade.
It isn’t like he doesn’t have his own string of admirers. It’s not like he can’t send the right sort of smile at some new recruit, have them at his knees, their heart pounding for him. But Ivan has been with him from the start-
Zoya is watching him closely now, lips quirked.
“Does Ivan know you’re stationed here?” She has a certain slyness about her, eyes glittering with cunning. “You're usually inseparable.”
The prying harpy. Always slipping her way into things that aren’t her business. Keeping his voice airy, because Fedyor can play her games, he replies, “I can’t say for sure. We haven’t come across each other yet.”
“Oh my. Are you quarreling?” Her smile widens with interest. “You would have been at his side already, but you aren’t. You’re here, looking at paper.”
Almost thoughtlessly, he allows a flicker of his power to flash over her, a gentle pressure at her heart. There and gone, all with a sweet smile on his face. “I would not seek to become a camp gossip, if I were you, Zoya. You know how Ivan feels about idle gossip, especially if it’s about him.”
Her eyes narrow at him and she pouts convincingly. “You’re not being any fun today, Fedyor.”
I wasn’t aware that I was supposed to be fun, he finds himself thinking irritably.
“I’m sorry,” he drawls, not sorry at all. “Is there a reason you came looking for me?”
To business then. She straightens and inclines her head. “Yes. You and I are to take a scouting party North for the day and return by dusk. Prepare your team. Mine is already waiting.”
Fedyor stares at her dryly. Of course she wasted time chattering away, trying to find something juicy to discuss. “Well, I’ll get right on that and meet you at the North end.”
She smiles brightly and winks saucily. “See that you do. I’ll be waiting, you lovely piece of sunshine.”
He growls under his breath as she departs, calling her an unpleasant name.
It’s late when they return, having run across one early advance party of Fjerdan’s. The casualties were minimum, but only because his party, teamed with Zoya’s, had the advantage of secrecy. His body is aching when he reaches his tent, the sun already long gone.
He’s not thinking of Ivan. Not one bit.
When Fedyor throws open the flap to his shared tent, he notices that someone else is in there with his tentmate, Andrei. Exhausted and wanting nothing more than to throw himself down on his bed pallet, Fedyor rubs his eyes with exasperation and says, “What is going on here?”
“You got reassigned to a different tent,” Andrei says casually, one eyebrow raised. “Your things got moved earlier today while you were out on duty.”
“You’re joking.”
“Dead serious, I’m afraid.” Andrei shrugs apologetically. He does look sorry, truth be told. They’ve been bunking together for two months and got along splendidly. “Sergei got shuffled in a few hours ago. Sorry, Fedyor.”
Pinching the bridge of his nose, no longer having much energy to maintain his pleasantness with, well, anyone, Fedyor asks, “Any idea which tent I got shuffled to?”
“Tent eighteen, I think it was. Other side of the Second Army encampment. I’m really sorry. Maybe it’s just temporary with the new arrivals and all?”
Saying his goodbyes, Fedyor marches off to find where he’s expected to sleep, because he is ready to knock out for the day.
Passing multiple tents, counting off until he reaches eighteen, his footsteps slow. His stomach and his heart twist violently, guts feeling like spilling out from inside of him. He stands in front of tent eighteen and curses his luck.
Why am I not surprised?
With both hands, he covers his face briefly, trying to get his shaky inhales and exhales under control. This day just keeps getting worse. Saints, is he going to be sick? He feels very, very sick indeed. Like he could puke until all his insides get hauled out of his throat.
He’s your friend. Always has been. Just pretend that night didn’t happen. That’s what he’s done, right? Tell your stupid heart to stop making such a big deal out of it. Clearly, it didn’t mean anything to him, Fedyor convinces himself. Nearly.
Sighing, steeling himself, he steps into his new sleeping quarters.
The tent is like midnight, but Fedyor’s eyes adjust quickly. Not that he would have needed to see anything; he can hear the strong, steady beat of Ivan’s heart. Sleeping- or appearing to be so. Ivan isn’t the General’s right-hand man for no reason, after all.
The scent of him fills Fedyor’s nose, easing his tense nerves in a manner that somewhat irritates Fedyor. How is it acceptable that Ivan can have this effect on him, and yet Ivan feels nothing? It’s maddening.
Being that he isn’t one hundred percent sure that Ivan isn’t asleep, Fedyor remains quiet as he disrobes, preparing for bed. He undoes his kefta and drops it onto a nearby chair. When his fingers reach up to remove his shirt, Fedyor hears the telltale sound of a pulse increasing. His eyes nearly roll out of their sockets.
“I can hear you, you know. In case you forgot,” Fedyor drawls, now shirtless. He proceeds to unlacing his trousers.
Ivan’s rumbling tone seems loud in the otherwise quiet tent. “…and you’re insinuating what, exactly?”
“That you aren’t as asleep as you pretend to be. But mostly that you should stop watching me.”
The other man snorts, as if the idea is absurd. He shifts in his sheets, long body lithe and powerful. “Have you gotten shy?”
“No,” Fedyor replies shortly.
They go verbally silent, but their hearts beat loudly in an uneven cadence, full of chaos and irritation and unspoken stress.
Stripped down to his underwear, Fedyor flops down onto the cot beside Ivan’s, hating how the tent smells of their scents already. It smells familiar and safe, comforting even. They often would share quarters on missions.
“You didn’t greet our arrival this morning,” Ivan says softly, breaking the silence. He’s on his back, one arm behind his head.
“You noticed.”
“I notice everything about you, Fedyor.” He sounds wary.
Fedyor feels his anger rising and falling like a tide at sea. He wants to burst out with emotion, but at the same time, he wants to crawl into Ivan’s bed and ask him what he did so wrong that night. Why didn’t you stay, he wants to ask. I wanted you to stay with me.
Sniffing slightly, feeling his eyes burn, Fedyor says, “Ivan, I’m mad at you, but somehow you haven’t noticed that.”
The other man sighs, a resigned sound. Ivan sits up, looking down at Fedyor’s form, eyes trailing over his body in a way that feels too possessive, too much like ownership as Ivan says softly, “Fedyor-”
Hearing Ivan’s blood pressure changing with anxiety, Fedyor sits up on his bed as well, disbelieving. No way in hell is Ivan playing the victim here. Fedyor will not allow it. Not today. Not ever, pal.
Gesturing to the tent around them, Fedyor snaps, “What was the point of this? Hm? Didn’t like the idea of me sleeping near someone else? News flash, Ivan. I’ve been sleeping in the same tent as another man for two months. My life didn’t stop just because you weren’t here. You made it very clear what you thought of me when you left that morning without a word.”
“That night was…it was a mistake.” Ivan’s voice sounds off. “We took it too far. I didn’t mean to hurt you, but I didn’t think you wanted me there at dawn.”
It’s funny, because he’s lying. How stupid for him to even try lying to another heartrender! The audacity.
“A mistake.” Fedyor’s voice goes flat. “You call that a mistake? Was it a mistake when you pressed me up against the door and kissed me? Was it a mistake when you pressed me down into the sheets and licked between my thighs like a man dying of hunger? Was it a mistake when you filled me with your cock? Three times? Was it-”
The tent begins to heat with Ivan’s blood. “Fedyor,” his stern voice almost sounds pleading. “Don’t make this into something it’s not.”
“Oh, stop the bullshit, Ivan! I bet you’re already hard. I think you still want me, you stubborn bastard. I can hear your heart, just like you can hear mine. I know you. What are you so afraid of?”
Ivan’s voice sharpens. “I’m not afraid of anything.”
Giving him a sharp smile, Fedyor leans forward and presses the palm of his hand against the front of Ivan’s crotch, crowing with triumph at the feeling of a full erection straining there. “See? I was right! Maybe we need to make another mistake, just to be sure you never want it again.”
Oh, bad idea, Fedyor.
Instead of pushing him away, Ivan’s breathing goes shallow, hungry. He doesn’t sound convincing as he rasps, “Will you behave yourself? S-stop touching me-”
“Oh? Stop this?” Fedyor asks as he slips his hand under the sheets to find Ivan’s heated cock, straining in his underwear. He runs his thumb over the slick slit, oozing precum, then strokes nice and firm, enjoying the feel of his girth in his grasp. “Want me to stop, Ivan?”
Ivan makes a pained noise, but his hips jerk upwards as he tries to fuck into Fedyor’s hand.
“Does this feel like a mistake to you?” Fedyor demands as he deviously crawls into Ivan’s sheets, wanting to feel the press of their bodies together, just like that night. He grabs Ivan’s hand and presses it against his own erection, whispering, “I’m already hard for you. Do you feel what you’ve done to me? Do you know how often I’ve pleasured myself, thinking of that night with you?”
Ivan moans deep in his throat, his hand eagerly feeling the shape of Fedyor’s cock, even as he weakly says, “Stop, Fedyor. It’s not-”
Their underwear slides down their thighs and they gasp as their cocks meet, sliding against one another. Ivan pulls him closer, free hand firm and claiming on Fedyor’s skin. Fedyor hopes that he bruises so he can look in the mirror and remember this.
Fedyor does not stop. He strokes slowly, firmly. Making sure to play with the slick, bulbous head of Ivan’s cock. “Oh, give it up. The only people that know what’s going on in here are the people that are like us. Not that you didn’t make it damn obvious. How long did it take you to rearrange my sleeping assignment? Hm? Tell me, Ivan. How long were you in this camp before you decided you’d throw your weight around to have me moved under your thumb?”
Ivan tries to bite off a groan, tries to hide how much he enjoys Fedyor’s touch. “It wasn’t like that…”
“Oh? What was it like?” Fedyor rasps, pressing his own heated erection against the one in his palm. He gasps in delight, feeling Ivan’s cock pressed against his own, stomach flashing with heat at the answering sound of Ivan’s blatant desire.
“I shouldn’t have done it. I missed you. It was selfish of me.”
The slick sound of their cocks fills the tent, their panting getting rougher.
Hearing Ivan admit to something so personal, so vulnerable, fills Fedyor with heat, his belly tight with need.
“I want you to rend me again, like you did that night. There’s no one with skill like you,” Fedyor admits shamefully, straining against his closest friend, his one-time lover.
Wordlessly, Ivan places his free hand against Fedyor’s skin, playing with his blood and his heart in a way that makes Fedyor gasp in sheer ecstasy. It’s delightful and no other heartrender that Fedyor has ever been with can make his insides melt this way.
There’s always a sliver of fear, with someone else. A worry that they might mess up.
Not with Ivan. Ivan wouldn’t hurt him. Ivan doesn’t mess up.
He hurt your feelings, Fedyor reminds himself through his haze of pleasure. Yet, another part of him, the louder part, doesn’t seem to care. “You’re so good at that,” he utters aloud, stroking Ivan’s ego.
Ivan’s stern lips quirk slightly in that mostly unkind smirk of his. “I’m good at a lot of things.”
“Arrogant prick,” Fedyor says against the skin of his throat. His tongue darts out to taste him, his lips nibbling at a sensitive spot that Ivan likes.
Ivan’s got a leg up over him now, dominant to a fault, wanting to feel in control of the situation. Wanting to feel in control of Fedyor, even as he rasps with a voice rough like sandpaper, “Tell me what else you want from me. Tell me what you need.”
Delirious, head spinning, skin alive with fire and lust, Fedyor breathes out, “I want you to want me.”
A dark chuckle rumbles against him. “I have for some time. You just didn’t notice.”
Fedyor bites into Ivan’s shoulder, listening to the deep moan he’s rewarded with. “I don’t want you to run from this when dawn greets us. I don’t want you to hide from your feelings.”
“I won’t.”
“But mostly, I want you inside me again,” he begs into Ivan’s ear.
At those words, Ivan attempts to choke off a rough moan, but he’s not successful. In a flash of his typical aggression, he pushes Fedyor onto his back and climbs on him, weighing him down as he thrusts roughly into Fedyor’s hand. His hips stutter as he mimics fucking into Fedyor, abdomen flexing, sweat glistening on his shoulders.
He’s beautiful, Fedyor finds himself thinking hungrily, pleased with the weight of Ivan’s body on him. He loves it, the feeling of being beneath the other heartrender. Of feeling in his care. Of being owned by him.
Fedyor’s never felt that way about anyone.
It isn’t long until Ivan’s manhood throbs in Fedyor’s grip as he spills his release onto their hands and onto Fedyor’s belly, marking him with a filthy groan.
“That’s it,” Fedyor says encouragingly, feeling close to orgasming himself at the sight of Ivan releasing with abandon. “Cum for me.”
After one last rope of cum oozes out of him, Ivan briefly sags onto Fedyor, weighing him down onto the makeshift bed, Fedyor’s erection caught between them. Fedyor rocks his hips, trying to enjoy the friction.
“Did you mean what you said?” Ivan asks thickly.
“Huh?” Fedyor mutters distractedly, enjoying the feel of thrusting his cock against Ivan’s body.
Lifting himself up slightly, positioning himself between Fedyor’s thighs, Ivan puts two fingers at Fedyor’s lips. “Suck,” Ivan demands in his rough, commanding tone. His voice turns Fedyor’s insides into liquid.
Oh, he loves what that tone does to him.
He opens his mouth and allows Ivan to wet his fingers, feels his sex throb with hunger as Ivan strokes his tongue with the pads of his fingers, a greedy act. Before he can truly enjoy trying to rile Ivan up by sucking on his fingers luridly, those very fingers slip from his lips and travel down between his legs, pressing behind his sack wetly.
Fedyor squirms, because despite his bravado, it has been a while. “Easy now-”
Those fingers gently ease inside of him, softly stroking his insides with care. Ivan growls with hunger and possessiveness. “When am I not careful with you?”
“When you’re being an emotionless rock,” Fedyor gasps, shifting his hips carefully, adjusting to the feel of those digits filling him.
Even while making a noise of disagreement, Ivan crowds up closer between Fedyor’s thighs, hoisting them over his own, leaving Fedyor exposed. He wraps his free hand around Fedyor’s cock once more, jerking him while drilling in deep with the fingers on his other hand. The sensation of being stroked and penetrated has Fedyor seeing stars and his jaw goes slack as Ivan presses against the perfect spot inside him.
“There?” Ivan says smugly.
“There,” Fedyor gasps, riding Ivan’s fingers eagerly. “I want more-”
“Not tonight,” Ivan informs him smoothly. “Cum for me like this and I’ll let you ride my cock tomorrow. Would you like that?”
Tomorrow? With you? Yes Yes Yes. Hips bouncing, eyes half mast with pleasure, Fedyor remembers to answer out loud. “Yes, Ivan.”
He feels filthy, exposed like this on Ivan’s lap, moaning like a whore as his closest friend jerks him and fingers him thoroughly.
It feels like heaven and Fedyor never wants it to end, loving the way that Ivan’s eyes are drinking him in, like he’s hungry and wants to eat him alive.
“Do you like when I stuff you like this? Is your eager ass pleased?”
“Yes. Ah. Ah. Ivan- I’m- I’m going to cum. Oh, you’re making me cum.” Fedyor whines embarrassingly. “Fuck. There, right there.”
“So good for me,” Ivan purrs lowly as Fedyor squirts upward, his milky release thick and copious as he moans. Slipping his fingers out, Ivan leans down and kisses Fedyor’s pink little ring of muscle, licking softly before murmuring, “Tomorrow, baby.”
Fedyor could almost cum again just thinking about taking his cock, feeling full of him.
A voice from the next tent over hisses out loudly, “Are you two done in there? Bloody Saints, what the fuc-”
Ivan makes a gesture with his hand and the voice cuts off and the sound of someone flopping back against their pillow reaches their ears. “Rude,” Ivan mutters darkly.
Fedyor laughs, the deep, happy sort low in his belly. Ivan’s heart flutters and it pleases Fedyor to hear it beat so eagerly.
They situate themselves together in the blankets, sweat cooling on their bodies as they hold each other. Ivan’s eyes trail over Fedyor’s body, as if memorizing everything.
“Can we talk about that night, now? You seem relaxed enough,” Fedyor quips with a sly grin.
Ivan scoffs. “I wonder why.”
“I’m serious. Answer me. What happened?”
The other man goes quiet for a moment. An owl hoots somewhere in the night. “I was afraid. That morning. When you were sleeping in my arms.”
“You’re afraid of nothing.”
Ivan’s body is tense, muscles jumping under Fedyor’s hand as he says, “Maybe I’m afraid of having something that I can lose.”
“I’ve known you for half my life,” Fedyor utters into the darkness of the tent. He inhales the scent of Ivan’s skin with a soft sort of pleasure. “I’ve never known you to be a coward.”
Ivan swallows loudly, his throat working. “I’ve seen you make your way through your conquests. I didn’t want to have you and lose you. I couldn’t imagine having to watch you with someone else after…having you. I was already so jealous, seeing you with others. At the parties…”
“That’s rather irrational. You made yourself lose me because you were afraid of losing me? You’re my best friend. That night…I couldn’t believe how well we fit…it just felt so right. You felt so right. And then you left. Without a word. Ignored me. Like a coward.”
“I’m not,” Ivan mutters. “It’s just. I wanted you more than anything and it scared me.”
“Prove it.” Fedyor knows how to push. How to shove just right. He knows all the buttons. “Let me be yours.”
That serious face gazes down at him, heartbeat even and steady. Strong. “Is that what you want? To be mine? Only mine?”
Fedyor relaxes onto the shoddy cot, sated, but wanting to be emotionally fulfilled this time around. At least this time, Ivan trapped himself in the same tent, so it doesn’t look like he gets to run from his feelings this time. “What do you think?”
That familiar face hardens. “I don’t share. I won’t share you.”
“I don’t need anyone else.”
“Even when I’m deployed far away from you?” A hint of vulnerability creeps into Ivan’s voice, nearly hidden. “You like to be surrounded by others. Everyone adores you. You could have anyone.”
Somehow, Fedyor can nearly taste that vulnerability on his tongue.
He places a gentle hand on Ivan’s chest and carefully says, “Ivan. Listen to me when I say you’re the only one I want. Do you understand what I’m saying, my stubborn, thick-headed rock?”
At those words, Ivan leans down and his lips descend upon Fedyor’s, stealing his breath away.
“You’re mine,” Ivan says into his mouth. “Tell me that you’re mine, Fedyor.”
“I’m yours.”
They kiss languidly, bodies entangled, hands memorizing with adoration.
“I’m sorry I hurt you,” Ivan whispers quietly as Fedyor begins to doze off.
Lips curving into a sleepy grin, eyes still closed, Fedyor mutters, “Trying to sneak that apology past me while I’m sleeping, you prideful bastard?”
“I know you’re awake, you twat.”
“Hm. I love when you talk to me like that-”
Fingers trailing across warm skin, Ivan’s mouth quirks as he says, “Go to sleep.”
Heart going slow, breathing going soft, Fedyor grouses as Ivan’s power puts him under, “Not fair…”
Kissing his temple gently, Ivan holds him until dawn.