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The only sounds echoing in the forest were their hushed panting and the distant barking way behind them.
They were desperately trying to keep quiet, but Price couldn’t help the curses he had to scream into the sleeve of his fatigues–God damn this fucking mission in the middle of the Siberian winter, and God damn the fucking gulag they had to break into to gather intel. Of course the ultranationalists would build that hell hole in the middle of dead land, knowing that anybody who tried to escape would be faced with miles and miles of frost and packed snow and mountains too steep to be climbed. They were assholes through and through, and Price swore as soon as they were done with this mission he would take a long, warm vacation in the Caribbeans. Send Makarov a fucking postcard just to spite him.
No, he couldn’t stop to think about sandy beaches right now–the howling winds already made every step forward a struggle, and they bit at Price’s bones like they were trying to tear off his fingers by sheer force. The captain was halfway sure he’d look down and find nothing attached to his hands anymore, so he obstinately stared ahead, following Nikolai’s lead.
Nikolai seemed to be faring much better. Price knew he was born in a village not too far from here, and it showed: his harsh breaths were quieter than Price’s, his steps more sure. Price even noticed he was standing slightly in front of him, like he was trying to keep some of the wind from slamming into the captain. It made Price close his eyes in desperate gratitude. He didn’t know where he would be without the man, sometimes.
The irritating part was that Price didn’t even ask him to come. The mission was way too risky for the rest of the 141, and besides, they needed to speak impeccable Russian to get through the guards and mingle with the prisoners. The only one at base who could speak without an accent was Price, and he’d even been held prisoner in that gulag before—the mission was essentially gift wrapped for him, like Makarov wrote his fucking name on it with a piping bag and placed a delicate cherry on top.
He just needed someone to come get him, because the SAS told him it was unsanctioned from the moment he uttered “gul-”. Yeah, interrupted him in the middle too. Whatever, he had Nikolai on speed dial, and the man said yes before Price could even finish the word, so. Military 0, Nikolai 1 yet again.
He just hadn’t counted on Nikolai sniffing the situation out and offering to assist inside the prison too. And of course, this being Nik, he offered without question, without hesitation. Price knew better than to go against him when he dug his heels in but now, trucking through knee-deep snow in -40 degree weather, with Nikolai obviously trying to shield him from the brunt of this bone-chilling wind, he couldn’t help but feel guilty.
He should have pushed back more. This was a terrible mission. Laswell had been crystal clear: the moment they break out, the moment all hell breaks loose. Helicopters, jets, snow mobiles, swarms of ultranationalists and their fucking dogs combing every inch of ice in this desolate hellscape. Exfil was going to take a while, at least until the air search party left and the skies were clear for one of Nikolai’s silent helos to pass through.
And Nik, that stubborn, unshakable Russian that was too loyal for his own good, said yes to all of that. Price should have known Nikolai would never let him go alone. The captain shook his head, tasting iron between his gritted teeth. Whatever, it was done. What he needed to do now was get them to safety. Get Nik to safety.
Nikolai turned to him then, as if he could sense Price’s thoughts. “Captain, we’re almost there. How are your feet feeling?”
“Should be ready to fall off any time now,” Price joked, trying to alleviate the tension, but the dog barks were still bouncing between the trees around them. It was too macabre of a fate to get their minds off it. Price cleared his throat into his raggy clothes. “Nik, where the hell are we going?”
“There’s a safehouse on the coast, Yuri stocked it a few days ago. It’s in a rock recess so it’s well hidden.”
Nikolai helped him walk over a broken trunk in the middle of their path. Price meant to hold onto his forearm, but the bigger man slid his hand up and around the captain’s back, lifting him under his arms. He gasped at the feeling, the motion pushing all the air out of his lungs, the landing making him stumble against Nikolai. Price’s palm slid over Nik’s chest, and he swore he could feel the steady beat of his heart through the thin fabric of his shirt. Thump, thump, thump. Warm, sturdy, loyal Nikolai. Price let out a shaky breath while the Russian steadied him, looking pointedly at the ground between them.
“Price, I…”
“We gotta go, Nik.” The captain tugged on him, pulling on his wrist to keep the pace. No time for… whatever this was, anyway. Price would argue there never was time for this, whether they were being chased by rabid hunting dogs or not.
Because they’d been running circles around each other for years now, stolen glances like this, suggestive touches like that. It was obvious and soothing and so, so familiar–but it was also terrifying. Nikolai was his closest friend, his most trusted person. He came to his rescue in the most dire of situations, with the worst odds against them. And although it was obvious that they would never do this for anyone else, that they only looked at each other with that deep look that made Nikolai misty-eyed and left Price completely breathless, neither of them ever took it to the next level.
How could they? This, running from ultranationalists in the middle of the Siberian tundra with dogs and helicopters at their heels, was pretty much the course for their Tuesday afternoons. Price only had to furrow his brows for Nikolai to take the lead again, and Nikolai only had to glance at the path ahead of them for Price to push the pine branches out of their way. It took years to build that kind of synchronicity and trust. It was that silent coordination that got them out of these situations, that allowed them to survive things that would have killed lesser soldiers, lesser relationships.
And it was that coordination that they couldn’t lose.
Gunshots started to ring out behind them, and Price felt another kind of gut-wrenching fear shoot down his spine. No, he was not losing Nik. This rotten world had already taken too many people from him–too many good people, God damn it–and he was not going to let them take the best person in his life.
“Nik, where the fuck’s the cabin?!” he nearly screamed, holding onto the man’s arm like a lifeline.
Another darned low-hanging branch smacked Nikolai right in the face. He looked less flushed than Price, but his eyes were wide in alarm. “It’s behind the mountain, we need to go up and around!!”
“We don’t have time for that, those dogs will be on us in seconds!!” Price looked around them in panic, dragging the Russian through the line of evergreens, away from where Nikolai was leading them.
Nik tugged back on him, wrapping his hand around Price’s bicep. “John, where the hell are you going?!”
Price cursed under his breath. Fucking hell, if only he was a couple inches taller, had some muscle on Nikolai. Unfortunately, it was the Russian that always won their arm-wrestling sessions, only him that could lift Price like he weighed nothing more than a feather. He turned to glare at him. “We don’t have time to go up and over. We’ll have to go down and over.”
“It’s too–вот дерьмо́–it’s too steep, we’re going to tumble all the way down!!”
“Then get your arse on the ground and slide!!” Price barked, pulling once more on the man’s forearm.
Nikolai paused, looking between the sharp drop off to their right and the steep climb to their left. When his eyes flitted back to the slope he took one step forward and one backwards. Price knew he was thinking of whether he should test the ground, leaving the captain behind, or have the Brit go first, so he could be the only one to get shot. God damn, this man drove him insane with his terribly endearing, terribly predictable selflessness.
Price tugged on Nikolai’s collar. The man was already unsure on his feet because of yet another branch in his eyes, so he went down easy, and Price pushed on his shoulders until Nikolai started slipping and sliding all the way down. The Russian looked back at him with wild, black eyes–fuck, Price almost hurt when he saw the sheer panic in them–but the captain was not going to let him stay back and get shot out of his stupid sense of chivalry. Call him selfish, or a bastard, or an arsehole, God knows Price was all of those. But he would not allow Nikolai to go on his ridiculous suicidal runs, and he would try his darnest to stay alive too, spite the ultranationalists just a little bit longer.
A bullet flew by him, and he growled another curse as he followed Nikolai down. His boots immediately struggled to find any ground to hold onto, and his arms desperately tried to steer him between one tree trunk and the other. And fuck–OW–it was impossible not to get whacked across the face with swathes of pine needles.
He let his guard down for a second, just enough to check if there was anything stuck in arm after a particularly sound whack, but that was all it took. He didn’t see the rock formation he was quickly tumbling towards, and by the time he pushed himself out of the way, his boot got caught in another trunk and it sent him rolling down the hill, completely helpless to the environment around him.
Price tried to dig into the snow with his bare hands, attempting to slow down his descent, but he was pretty sure the ground beneath him was more vertical than flat, and he shot down the mountain through snapping branches and broken trees and spiky brushes and God, he would be fighting a thousand different infections if, no, when they finally got home.
The worst part was that it just wouldn’t stop. Price swore he’d been falling for hours before the mountain side started to curve slightly, still not enough for him to stop entirely, but at least enough to roll onto his back again.
And, of course, that’s when he saw the river. Price immediately took out his army knife and stabbed at the ground under him, trying to find solid ground, anything but this blasted snow fucking everywhere. The blanket was just too deep. He kicked and screamed and begged all the way down, “NIK, NIK, NIK!!!”, but the man was nowhere to be seen, completely lost in the darkening skies and thick foliage.
“JOHN!!!”
It was too late. Price felt the bitter cold of the water before he even heard a splash, before he was even aware he was sinking. And then it was all over, like thick fog that engulfed him and dragged him under a blanket of darkness.
Price had never fallen in frozen water. It was hardly ever below zero in Herefordshire, where he grew up, and he’d only ever known the kind of snow that turns into mush before you could make a decent snowman out of it. But this, this was a different world. The cold seemed to penetrate his skin and wrap like iron around his brittle bones, hardening into steel in a matter of seconds. Price swore he could hear his bones creak under that sheer grip, could hear the screeching of one crack against the other.
And when the frigid fog seeped through the fissures, it stabbed at his heart, his intestines, his liver and lungs and everything in between. That’s how it felt, like a thousand knives that skewered him over and over, ice-cold blood spilling from the inside out.
He felt a hand curl around the collar of his shirt, and in a second, Nikolai pulled him out of there and back against the snapping Siberian winds.
Price gasped immediately, feeling more knives stab all the way down to his lungs. Shit, how could the air around them be just as cold as this freezing water?! He wasn’t even aware someone was talking until his ears stopped ringing, and when the whistling subsided, he realized it was his own voice–still gasping Nikolai’s name over and over, Nik, Nik, Nik, like a desperate prayer, grabbing onto the man like he just raised him from hell.
“FUCK!!” Nikolai answered him, his black eyes scanning him for, for, shit, Price didn’t know, all he knew was that for someone he looked at for comfort and security, Nik was looking at him like he was dying in his arms.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit, if they didn’t do something about it soon, Price was going to die in his arms.
“N-N-i-ihk.” Price struggled, his teeth chattering loudly in his skull, his hands trying to curl in Nikolai’s shirt. It was impossible, they were too shaky, couldn’t even bend around the first joint. It took all his willpower alone to stutter out, “Ni-k, we’ve–we’ve got to.. got to get to the c-c-cab-cabin.”
“John, John.” Nikolai grabbed him by his face. His hands felt so warm, even though Price knew they couldn’t possibly be. His wild eyes danced between Price’s like he was trying to memorize his features and it was just– it was just–
“NIK!!” he screamed again, slamming his open hand against the man’s chest. “I’m not going to d-die, but we ne-nehed to warm me, warm me up. Ok? You need to h-eh-help me.”
Something snapped within him, Price could tell. His jaw clenched and he shook himself back into his body. His hands tightened around Price’s face one last time before they fell down. Thank God. He bent down to pull at Price’s arm and leg, lifting him easily into a fireman's carry. And even though Price was well over ninety soaking wet kilos, Nikolai still stomped quickly through the snow, one sure step at a time. When he got out of the thicket by the river he even started running, his thighs plowing through the tall mounds around them, his small jumps making Price bounce across his shoulders.
Price must have been close to death, because he started chuckling deliriously into the man’s clothes, trying to shield his mouth from inhaling too much cold air.
“Wh–” Nikolai gasped. At least now he sounded winded, his harsh breaths echoing around them. “What are you laughing about?!”
“Y-you turning into the f, f, freakin’ Terminator, that’s what I’m, ah, laughing about.”
Despite the sinking horror of the situation, Nikolai let out a sudden laugh. “You need to eat more, John. None of that beans on toast you Brits like so much, eat some good food.”
“You’re–ha–you’re only fifteen kilos he-heavier than me, you git.” Not to mention, he was a couple of inches taller than Price too, so really it was Nikolai that needed to eat more piroshki.
“Twenty,” Nikolai corrected him, and he pulled on Price’s arm to steady him, bursting into another sprint.
“Not after this, you won’t be,” Price joked. It was a bad idea, and when he chuckled into the open air, another jet of gelid wind shot down to his lungs. It made him cough for a good minute straight against Nikolai’s arm, the Russian’s hold tightening around his thigh and wrist.
They seemed to have lost the soldiers and their dogs at the very least, either because neither wanted to go down that neck-breaking slope or because they lost track of them. Price wasn’t thinking too much about it, just working on warming himself up and breathing into the fabric of Nikolai’s shoulder. His clothes were the only problem. They were still sopping wet, and everybody knows what happens to sopping wet cloth when exposed to sub-zero temperatures. He tried to flex his fingers and toes, but he wasn’t sure if anything was happening. Yeah, he knew what that meant too.
“Are you numb anywhere?” Nikolai asked, as if he could sense his thoughts.
“No,” Price lied.
“John.”
“W-where the fuck ih, is this damn cabin Nik, in Alaska?!”
“We’re almost there,” he grunted, stumbling over a tougher pack of snow. He steadied himself on his other leg, a Russian curse escaping his lips. It took him a few seconds, panting in place, before he sprinted again. “Be honest, are your fingers numb? I saw you flex them. What about your toes?”
“I’m good, Nik, Jes… Jesus Christ. Y-you’re the one trying to do the training m, mon-ontage from Rocky.”
“Keep talking,” Nikolai instructed him, grunting and groaning through a thick gust of wind. “Which movie?”
“Ha.” Price clutched at Nikolai’s shirt, feeling the muscles of his stomach. He would have stopped to feel the curve of Nik’s abs if he wasn’t so preoccupied with preserving whatever little feeling his hands had left. He could work without toes, but he couldn’t damn well pull a trigger if he lost his fingers. “T-the fourth one, of co-hourse.”
Nikolai huffed. “It’s my favorite.”
“I know.” They watched them all together when they were in their twenties, after all. It was incomprehensible how a guy like Nikolai, someone whose only Christmas tradition was rewatching the entire Die Hard series, whose favorite movie was Heat or The Fugitive or Scarface (it changed every time Price asked, honestly), had never seen Rocky.
Price recalled that night like it was yesterday. It was right before one of their most dangerous missions yet, and they were both wide awake in the common room, nothing to do but stare at the table between them with their legs twitching and thoughts racing.
It drove Price up the wall. Nothing he detested more than waiting, especially before an important task. So, he took his computer from his cot and pulled the movies up right there and then. He even remembered how he brazenly moved his chair right next to Nikolai’s, under the guise that the screen was too small to see from the other side of the table. Whatever, Nikolai was the one to swing his arm over Price’s shoulders, and his excuse that he was cold (in barracks that were full of sweaty men) was shittier than Price’s. Neither of them commented on it, and Price settled his head on Nikolai’s shoulder, warm, safe. Laughing at the stupid training montages with his closest friend, his most trusted person, the love of his life.
Just the thought of it made Price hide his face in Nikolai’s arm once more, feeling the man’s sweat against his skin, the warmth against his cheeks. “You looked j-jus, just like Rocky back then, N-Nik.”
Nikolai laughed again, and finally, fucking finally, Price saw the outline of a cabin in the distance. It was surrounded by trees, well hidden by the foliage and the mountain behind it. It made Price’s chest tighten, a warm relief seeping through the cracks of his bones–at least, he hoped it was relief. “You’re lying.”
“You did,” he insisted, closing his eyes to remember. “You had that… you had your h-ha, haair cut short. Blasted military regulations, ha. B-b–ut we were already in the SAS back then so we could grow out our beard.”
When Price opened his drowsy eyes, he could almost see it. A twenty-eight year old Nikolai, with a fuller beard than his current stubble. Short, black locks that grew backwards, as if Nikolai was always meant to have his longer hair pulled back. The only thing that had stayed the same was the hard resolution in his eyes, even with the tired lines carved around them. It was inevitable, Price had bags under his eyes too; their job just wasn’t conclusive to sweet dreams. But the sharp edge in Nikolai’s mirrored Price’s perfectly, and it was the captain’s favorite feature about him.
“You w-were handsome. You are hands-handsome.”
Nikolai noticed him staring, and for a brief second, the panicked look softened into something more… intimate, more knowing. “Are you Adrian, then?”
Price was about to tell him where he could shove it before he felt a shift around his middle, and before he knew it, Nikolai kicked the cabin’s door wide open. He didn’t waste any time, immediately nestling Price close to the fireplace and looking for anything to kindle the fire. He disappeared around a doorway, and Price tried, really tried, to lift himself enough to tug his clothes off of him.
It was impossible. His shirt was stiff around his chest, and his hands shook too much to pull open his pants’ button. At least it was nice to be laying on a dry floor, but when you’re that deep frozen anything warmer than the bone-chilling cold feels even more painful. He was able to kick off his shoes, something that took pretty much all of his effort, and now his icy feet felt like they were on fire. He tried to pull the socks off, but he was so tired. Cold and exhausted and dead tired. He recognized it for what it was, and it made him thrash again, desperately trying to pull his pants off, dust the ice off his mustache, save his fingers by sticking them under his armpits, but it was too hard.
Don’t give in, don’t give in. If you fall asleep you know what happens to you, and do you want to do that to yourself? To Nikolai? Don’t give in. Don’t give in, you fucking wanker.
Nikolai came back with a med kit under one arm and a bundle of wood wrapped in newspaper under the other, his teeth holding what looked like a fire starter kit. He quickly stacked the wood in the fireplace, making sure to leave enough space for the fire to breathe, and crumpled the newspaper right underneath it, using it as tinder; then, he grabbed Price’s army knife and started smacking it against the flint of the fire starter kit, trying to produce a spark.
It didn’t work well. Price could see the newspaper was damp from the sheer cold, and Nikolai cursed in Russian every time his desperate smacking sent a spark into the tinder, but the glint failed to catch. And his cursing became more frantic, his hands more shaky, the tone of his voice more and more broken. He was obviously panicking, and there was nothing Price could do about it. Fucking nothing.
“N-n-ihk, won’t they see the sm-smoke?” Price whispered, closing his eyes. He couldn’t bear to see Nik like this, to hear him like this. He’s never known Nikolai to freak out, and it unsettled him–made the fear settled under his skin spread to his heart, deadlier than the fucking ice.
“We’re–блядь, блядь, блядь–we’re in a recess, the mountain will cover it. It’s getting dark out there too–ублю́док!!!”
Price sighed shakily. He really didn’t want to do this to him, but he couldn’t help it. He was going to die if he just laid there. “I ca-han’t get my clothes off. It-s, my fingers, I’m shaking too muh-much. I can’t get a good grip.”
Nikolai screamed another curse, and with another smack that Price swore must have broken the knife, the newspaper finally caught on fire. The Russian didn’t waste another second, and he immediately dropped the starter kit to crawl over Price, tearing at the Brit’s clothes, nearly ripping the pants off him.
Fuck, it would have been so hot, everything Price had ever wanted since he met the man, if he wasn’t on the verge of freezing to death. “T-t-the socks, my fee, my feet are–it’s hu-uhrts, Nik.”
“It’s ok, I’m here, I’m here. I’m always here,” Nikolai soothed him, yanking the socks off and pulling his feet in his hands. He winced at the sudden contact. Yeah, Price nearly pulled away from him too–Nik was much too warm, and his feet burned at the touch, a lick of flames engulfing everywhere Nikolai passed his fingers. Over his calves, under his arches, wrapping around his toes. It felt like he was catching on fire. “Keep talking. You’re not falling asleep. Talk to me.”
Price scoured his brain for something to talk about, anything that would distract him from the fact that he was nearly naked and spread out under a man he secretly loved for the past twenty years. “I’m n-n-not Adrian, Nik,” Price finally muttered, looking down at him. “I’m that ugly ba-bastard. You know, the ba, bad guy.”
Nikolai furrowed his brows. “Drago?”
“Y-yeah.” Price shuddered when Nikolai started rubbing at his feet, the comforting, scalding movements making his eyes flutter close. “I like–I like Drago.”
Nikolai scoffed. “You’ve always had a thing for Russian characters.”
“Just one, actually.”
It just came tumbling out. Price was using all of his mental fortitude not to fall asleep and, honestly, it was pretty fucking obvious to everyone who knew them that they were desperately in love with each other. He didn’t want to die without saying everything he’s been meaning to say, all the sweet nothings that he’s had to bite back throughout the years.
When he looked at Nikolai, though, it was like he just plunged a knife in his heart. It couldn’t have been because he was shocked–no, Price knew that look. He looked more stricken, like he knew Price was only saying it because he didn’t want to die with regrets, and it broke his heart. Price hated it, feeling his own chest constrict painfully at the sight. Nikolai glanced at the growing flame next to them. “John, I, I’ve got to take your underwear too.”
God dammit. John cursed under his breath as Nikolai spread his fingers across his stomach, right below his navel, and gently pulled at the wet fabric. His hands sent small sparks of electricity through his chilled bones, and Price nearly moaned at it all, arching into Nikolai as the man slid his boxers down his shivering thighs and calves.
Nikolai placed the sopping wet boxers by the fireplace to dry, and Price couldn’t bring himself to look at the man. He buried his eyes behind the palm of his hands, letting out a shaky breath. “T-this is really not how I wanted to do this, Nik.”
“Look at me,” Nikolai whispered, and when Price lifted his hands, he saw the way Nikolai’s gentle gaze traveled all the way up his thighs and middle, up his chest and collar, until it locked onto Price’s stare. Price was spellbound by the way the fire reflected in the pool of his adoring, black eyes. Nikolai offered him a small smile. “Would it bring you any consolation to know that I imagined our first time quite differently, too?”
It was bullshit, and they both knew it. There was never going to be a first time, not if this hadn’t happened.
Price explained it to Nikolai, once. It was similar to how he felt about certain missions. The fear of what would happen if he did nothing was greater than the fear of actually going through with his task. Sometimes, with their worst orders, the threat of what would happen if he failed was the only thing that kept him going. But this… this was completely different. Going through with it was much more dangerous than doing nothing. He couldn’t risk losing Nikolai, he just couldn’t. Price kept chanting that in the corner of his mind, over and over. It couldn’t happen. It wouldn’t happen.
Nikolai swallowed before his eyes fell on Price’s chest again. “You’re still too cold, and it’s going to take a while to warm up the room. Do you understand?”
Yes. Yes, of course Price understood. It still made him recoil, and although he tried to tear his eyes away, it was like watching a trainwreck happen right in front of him. Nikolai pulled back just enough to tug his shirt over his head, exposing the long line of his torso. Price had seen it many times before–they served together, for God’s sake, took their showers at the same time in the barracks–but it was the intimacy of the moment, the dead quiet around them except for the soothing popping of the burning wood. He stared at his strong pecs, his soft belly, the dark hair that covered it all, a thick layer that Price was dying to curl his fingers into and tug towards him, dying to grab underneath his chest and bury his face in between his muscles.
Nikolai tugged at the string of his pants and let the loose fabric drop down to his knees, shifting on one leg then the other to take them off. His shoes and socks were tugged off just as unceremoniously. Price followed the strong line of his calves, the flex of his muscular thighs, the smattering of more dark hair, the big bulge in his dark boxers. It made his mouth dry up, desperate to fill it with Nikolai.
He would’ve felt a little guilty if Nikolai wasn’t licking his lips like he was thinking the exact same thing. Price’s stark-cold dick twitched in interest, and he bit back another curse–one of them needed to get their shit together, before they did something they both regretted.
Nikolai snapped out of it first, and he looked around them for something. He leaned over Price to reach the couch and pull a dusty blanket off its back, draping it across his shoulders. Then, he leaned down to wrap his arms around Price, tugging the blanket around the smaller man’s frame, pressing the entirety of his body against the captain’s.
Nikolai groaned again at the contact, and Price felt another sick twist in his stomach. He was the cause of it, his stupid, stupid arse just had to look at his shoulder while sliding down a fucking mountainside, his weak arms just couldn’t carry him over to safer terrain. Fucking hell. And now he was endangering Nikolai, causing him to shiver and shake and pant painfully in Price’s ear.
“John, stop.” Nikolai tightened his hold around him. Price hissed at the searing heat pressed against his chest, and the Russian tucked his head in the crook of the captain’s neck, his warm breath shooting shudders all the way down his spine. His dick, the betrayer that it was, throbbed once more against Nikolai’s stomach. “I can hear you thinking. It’s not your fault. Just lean on me. You don’t have to always suffer alone.”
That bastard knew. He knew exactly what to say to make Price’s chest contract and release completely, his arms and legs wrap around Nikolai in a firm, desperate grip. He mirrored the man and hid his reddened face against Nikolai’s neck. It made Nik shift, and he pressed gentle kisses at Price’s temple, his hand coming up to stroke at the short hair on the Brit’s nape. The captain let out a long, pleased hum, curling his fingers around Nikolai’s shoulder blades.
It wasn’t the first time they hugged. It wasn’t even the first time Nikolai tilted his head to press a kiss to Price’s face. There were times when they hadn’t seen each other in weeks and Nikolai kissed him three times on the cheeks, alternating between one cheek and the other. Although he knew it was a Russian tradition, he’d never seen the man do it to anyone else–not even Laswell, and he knew those two played Scrabble and gossiped together nearly every Friday evening.
No, Nikolai on top of him and holding onto him like Price was going to slip between his fingertips, like one wrong move would pull Price away from him forever, it triggered something in him. He was suddenly standing at the precipice of a chasm, feeling the emptiness call to him. Yes, he could choose to take a step back, land on solid ground. God knows Nikolai would never question him on it; that was just the type of person he was. Absolutely selfless, absolutely devoted he was to Price. It was such a heady feeling, Price swore he could get drunk on the man’s unshakable faith in him, his desperate need–like a physical ache, it seemed like–to do everything Price asked of him. There was no feeling in the world like it.
And that was precisely the point. There was nothing that Nikolai wasn’t willing to do for Price, and there was nothing Price wouldn’t do for him either. Then why, for the love of all that is holy, did he think they wouldn’t be able to make this work?
Price let out a broken sob, hiding his torn expression in the crook of Nikolai’s neck. “You always said you’d be happy to die for someone else, for someone greater than you. You cheeky bastard, always thinking about yourself. Bet you never thought of this happening.”
“That’s not true.” Nikolai confessed, and when he pulled away just slightly, a stricken expression fleeted across his face. “I’ve thought about it. I think about it often. But usually, I can’t come up with a reason why I wouldn’t be long dead before something like that happened to you.”
Price’s heart near stopped, and he weakly smacked his fist against Nikolai’s chest, as if it was the man’s heartbeat that was struggling to restart. “You’re fucking ridiculous. You drive me insane, do you know that? You drive me fucking insane, you crazy man.”
Nikolai laughed, eyes glistening from the vibrant fire. “I am. I am crazy, любимый.”
“You’ve got to stop me, Nik,” Price whispered in the small gap between their lips. “You’ve got to stop me when I kiss you.”
Nikolai just stared down at his lips, his Adam’s apple bobbing hungrily. His hand moved from Price’s shoulder to wrap around the fist on his chest. He gently unwrapped the captain’s hand and pressed the flat of his palm against his heart. Price curled his fingers as if he was trying to carve his way inside, clutch the Russian in his hand, never let him go. The way Nikolai was looking at him, Price swore he wanted him to do it. His voice came out strained. “Now, that is an order I don’t think I’ll be able to follow, John.”
Price gripped at the man’s chest before he leaned into him one last time, pressing his lips against Nikolai’s.
They hissed at the same time. Price’s nose was just as gelid as the rest of him, after all, and his lips ached from the scalding burn of Nikolai’s mouth. But before the captain could yank away, Nikolai tightened his hold on Price’s nape and pushed his tongue between his lips, moaning needily in his open mouth. Yeah, there was no way Price could ever pretend this didn’t happen. Just the feel of Nikolai’s other hand dropping to the small of his back, pulling him up to sit on the Russian’s folded legs, looking up at him like he was the sun he gravitated around, it was something Price could never erase from his mind. Something he wasn’t sure he’d be able to live without ever again.
Price stretched his legs across Nikolai’s lap and pulled his hands to the man’s neck, tipping it backwards ever so slightly. He swiped his tongue against Nikolai’s and groaned in starved gasps, demanding more, more, more, like he always did of him. And in the back of his throat he swore he tasted Nikolai’s whimper, heard his desperate moans every time Price tightened his hold on his long hair.
Nikolai thrust his hips upwards, his still clothed bulge brushing against Price’s half-hard dick. Price panted against his lips, and when he glanced hungrily down at him, he didn’t even have to ask. Nikolai simply wrapped his hand around the captain’s naked cock and stroked him, slow and steady, with a care that made Price want to scream at him and cry for more at the same time. He couldn’t help himself either, and he tugged the man’s cock out of his underwear to rub him at the same tempo, sending a small ‘thank you’ to the skies for the fact that Nikolai filled his hand nicely, longer and girthier than Price’s own.
It took a few tries to extricate himself from Nikolai’s relentless kissing, the man continuously pulling him right back to him, biting at his bottom lip, tugging slightly, sending that delicious, toe-curling warmth down his chest that made him want to burst a few moments into a heavy makeout session. He managed to push against Nikolai’s collarbones, making the man stop in his tracks–even the hand curled around Price’s dick.
“I need you. I need you right now.” Price heaved against Nikolai’s open mouth, relishing that needy movement of his eyes–it’s like the Russian didn’t know what to concentrate on, Price’s lips, his flushed cheeks, his now fully erect shaft, the precum bead that peeked out at the surface. Yeah, he stayed on that for quite a few seconds, and Price snapped his fingers in front of his face, a chuckle in his voice. “My eyes are up here, soldier.”
Nikolai growled, leaning his forehead against Price’s shoulders. “I don’t know if I’ll last very long if you call me that, captain.”
“You will,” Price bit back, swallowing the surge of desire when Nikolai called him by his rank. He looked down at the medical kit Nikolai dropped on the floor, nodding at it. “Please tell me Yuri packed some lube in there.”
Nikolai laughed under his breath, and he immediately moved the hand around Price’s cock to open the medical kit, rummaging quickly through its contents. “I don’t think that qualifies as first aid, John.”
Price started digging in there too, impatient as always. “Sexual deprivation is a silent killer, Nikolai.”
“I believe that’s carbon monoxide, actually.” The Russian laughed again, shaking his head. “Ты идеален для меня, милый.”
“Да, да,” Price said dismissively, holding a packet up to his eyes. “What about antibiotic ointment?”
“Absolutely not.” Nikolai plucked it from his hand and tossed it in their discard pile. Then, he pulled a green bottle from underneath the gauze packs. “Aloe vera gel should do, but… are you sure? We can wait. I can wait.”
“I cannot,” Price insisted, snatching the bottle out of the man’s hand and putting away the rest of their medical supplies.
“Let me do it.” Nikolai didn’t wait for him to respond, and he immediately spread the gel across his fingers. Both of his hands came behind him and sent Price back against Nikolai’s chest. He felt a hand spread Price’s cheeks open, and the other one followed quickly, rubbing gel at his entrance. Price winced again, holding onto Nikolai’s shoulders for dear life. God, the gel was so cold, colder than the rest of him. Nikolai placed gentle kisses all across Price’s neck, comforting him with sweet nothings as he circled the captain’s rim.
Nikolai slipped a finger in without any warning. Price clawed at his back, cursing against the Russian’s ear. The fucking bastard didn’t care, and he kept dipping inside, curling his finger against his walls until he brushed against Price’s prostate.
The Brit had to bite at Nikolai’s shoulder to not scream his name, and from all of his moaning and keening and stuttering, the man understood he hit the spot. He kept going at it, working him through one finger, then two, then three. It was so much. So much of Nikolai panting his name back, holding him so firmly against him, looking at him like he was all he wanted to look at for the rest of his life.
“Nik, you’ve, ha, you’ve got to get in me or I’m going to come right now,” Price cut to the chase, pulling back to hold Nikolai’s face in his hands, catch the fire flickering in his black eyes. They seemed filled with dark, liquid lust. “Please. Please, just get in.”
Nikolai’s breath quivered against Price’s collarbones, nodding weakly. “I could just get you off like this, John. Wrap a hand around your dick and work you up with just my fingers. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Nik, for God’s sake, do you want me to say some snow got up there and I might get hypothermia in my arsehole if you don’t fuck it out of there? Get inside of me right now, that is an order.”
Nikolai’s eyes fluttered close, as if he was trying to contain himself, and there were only so many blows his self-control could take. When his gaze found Price’s again he was already smearing his shaft with the excess gel on his fingers. Price lined himself right on top of him, a breath of air between his entrance and Nikolai’s tip. They shared one last look before Price took the plunge, and he wrapped his hand around Nikolai’s to guide his dick inside of him.
Fuck, it was a delicious stretch. Of course the man of his dreams would also be able to fill him like this, stretch him so deeply and deliriously. The Russian entered him slow and steady, and when he finally bottomed out, they both let out a long, blissed out moan. Nikolai waited, and after a few seconds to adjust to the sensation, the captain leaned his temple against Nikolai’s. He nodded against his skin.
Nikolai started moving. It would have been easier for Price to bounce up and down, given their position, but Price was so lost in his own realm, eyes rolling to the back of his head every time Nikolai pressed against that spot inside of him. It’s like he had a natural talent for it, like they were truly meant for one another–Price would meet his thrusts in time, knocking the wind out of Nikolai’s lungs, and Nikolai would roll his hips just right, brushing his chest against Price’s dick, making him whine the Russian’s name over and over.
But it wasn’t enough. There was only so fast that Nikolai could go, a grown man in his lap like that, their position only allowing him to brush against the captain’s prostate. Price needed it hard, and he needed it now.
He wrapped his arm around Nikolai’s neck and pulled him into a hungry kiss, biting and sucking at his bottom lip like the tosser did to him just moments ago. And he started moving backwards, pulling Nikolai down with him, growling every time the man tried to stabilize the both of them.
Eventually, he anchored one of his hands on Price’s hips and kept him pressed against him, his dick still secure inside of him. His other hand landed on the back of his neck, helping Price lean backwards without falling on his head. Once Price was splayed on the floor Nikolai pulled his legs over his shoulders, kissing at the calves framing his head, restarting his rhythm like nothing had changed for him.
But it had changed completely for Price. His back curved where Nikolai still held his hips, up and off the wooden floor; his legs were bent almost to his chest and his knees nearly to his shoulders, stretched at an angle that should have been nearly impossible for his age. And Nikolai was there, between his thighs, slamming at that spot with a deadly precision, strangling these pathetic, needy moans out of Price like it was his God given reason to be on Earth.
And fuck, maybe it was. When Nikolai kissed him again, bending him even more, reaching even further inside of him, Price just had to wonder how he knew all these things that would make him come undone in a matter of seconds.
But it was Nikolai. His closest friend, his most trusted person, the love of his life. Of course he would know him inside and out, without Price telling him a thing.
Well, Price knew him just as well. And when Nikolai picked up a back-breaking pace, cursing in Russian like he knew that made Price go crazy with desire, the captain thread his fingers through Nikolai’s hair, tugging on it with a vengeance. When Nik’s black eyes flicked to him Price held his stare, holding onto his locks with each thrust. “Come in me, Nik, come in me. Just do it.”
It took only a few more deep bites at the man’s jaw for him to tense up all around him. His shaky panting and devout expression made Price come even before he felt the warmth of Nikolai’s spent inside of him, a river of come spraying all across his own chest. They both came back to themselves in deep breaths, looking at each other with wide eyes and a deep set hunger that would never truly subside, not even as they just came.
Nikolai was the first to break into a grin, his warm wands landing on Price’s cheeks, covering him with kisses all over–forehead, nose, lips, chin, lips again, then whatever inch of skin was available. It made Price laugh against the man’s mouth, gently slapping him away. “You’re tickling me, you love sick twit.”
“I can’t help it. I am love sick.” Nikolai relented then, but kept his hands at the sides of Price’s neck, his thumbs caressing the cut of his jaw.
Price saw a flicker of something else under his sweet expression, and he furrowed his brows. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”
“No, I’m well. Very warm, actually.” Nikolai slid his dick out, and they both flinched at the feeling. He gently lifted Price’s calves off his shoulders, massaging at the man’s hips to make sure he wouldn’t cramp up. Shit, he really was perfect for him. Nikolai cleared his throat, looking back up at him. “We can’t go back to how it used to be, John.”
Price studied him. He wanted to laugh at how messed up Nikolai’s hair was, but that was all his own doing. So, he tucked some of the errant strands behind his ear, passing his fingers through the rest to pull them back. It came tumbling back a second later. Price let out a fond chuckle. “No, we cannot.”
“But I don’t want to ruin our relationship. Do you think we will be alright?”
To say that Price wasn’t worried would have been a lie. He cared about Nikolai, cared about the deep trust they’d built over the years, and he never wanted to do anything to hurt him or their friendship. But he already threw himself off the chasm. He made the jump. And Price wasn’t the type to look back at the secure ledge he abandoned, he wasn’t the type to doubt his decisions. No, he chose to jump, and he will hold onto the strength of his convictions, damn it all.
He kissed Nikolai, a short but sweet peck. Nikolai tried to catch his lips as he pulled away, and Price smiled at that too. “I don’t know if everything’s going to be alright. But I’ll try my best not to fuck it up, I promise you that.”
Nikolai grinned again, mirroring his quick kiss. “I will too, my love.”
Price let out a shaky sigh. “I love you. Do you know that? I love you, Kolya.”
Nik, like he always did when Price called him that, took both of his hands in his own and kissed across his fingertips. When he looked up at him, his eyes shone with unshed tears. “Я тоже тебя люблю, Джон.”
“Then let’s make it work,” Price decided for them, and he moved his still trapped fingers to poke at the slight cleft in Nikolai’s chin. “And let’s rewatch Rocky IV when we get home.”
Nikolai winked at him. “Only if we get to do this again, too.”
“After you carried me uphill like freaking Sylvester Stallone? You bet your arse we will.”
Nikolai laughed at that, and Price laughed with him. He’d never been happier to take a leap of faith.