Work Text:
Artemiy slowly rouses from sleep, blinking into the hushed darkness of his bedroom. He sighs, wiping a hand over his face. A quick glance towards the simple alarm clock on his nightstand tells him it’s too early to start his morning routine. 03:42. His head falls back against the pillow and he closes his eyes, his eyebrows furrowing together.
His dreams had been full of writhing bodies, slick skin and bitten-back moans.
Again.
And again, he’s trying to ignore the ache of his cock, uncomfortably hard against the fabric of the boxer briefs he’d worn to bed.
His dreams have all featured the same someone, night after night. Ever since AJ had been forced to ‘perform’ for him, in front of Warren at the club, Artemiy hadn’t been able to wipe the memories of that night from his mind. That fucked up, mess of a night.
God, what a torture it had been. AJ, writhing in his lap and looking for all the world as if it was exactly where he wanted to be. Artemiy had lost himself in it, letting the background of context melt away until it was just him and the beautiful, resilient boy in front of him. When Warren spoke and slapped him back to reality, Artemiy had had half a mind to gather AJ in his arms, put a bullet in Warren’s head, and walk away without ever looking back.
Then on the drive home, he’d had to listen to AJ spill all of his regrets, his feelings of inadequacy, the fact that Warren had fucking raped him, as if Artemiy was the type of man who could stomach it all without a second thought.
Then, worst of all, AJ’s faded bruises. The sickly yellow-green evidence of how little he’s valued at work, or really at all.
AJ’s mottled skin had made Artemiy’s stomach turn so violently he’d bitten the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood, just to ground himself. And all he could do was give AJ vicodin for the pain, even though everything had happened a full week earlier. A full week during which he’d ignored AJ out of his own feelings of frustration.
He’d felt fucking pathetic for that.
Since that night, he’s found that he’s wholly unable to stop his mind from wandering, straying upon dangerous paths that he’s not supposed to be thinking about. Intrusive, little thoughts like I wonder if he drinks coffee or tea in the morning or I should buy marshmallows for the next time he wants them. Thoughts about taking care of AJ. Wanting to keep him safe. Keep him fed.
But not all of the thoughts are quite so virtuous.
Drowsy from sleep is the only time his mental barriers are relaxed enough to allow his mind to go this far. Artemiy groans, the sound breaking up the cloying silence in his bedroom. Reluctantly, he slides his palm downwards, over his torso, stopping at the waistband of his briefs. Feelings of self-loathing war briefly against the tight coil of lust in his abdomen.
Moving his briefs down to his muscled thighs, Artemiy palms his cock, losing himself in his fantasies. He lets his mind wander, thinking of all the ways he wants to take care of AJ. Of Austin. The boy who has been through too much and been cared for too little.
It hits a little too close to home, for Artemiy.
He imagines the two of them standing in the threshold of his home, faces flushed from a winter walk. In his mind’s eye, he lifts his palm and presses it against Austin’s cold cheek, warming it with a hand large enough to engulf his delicate jaw. He leans down and brushes his lips against Austin’s, swallowing his small little gasp.
He sees them on the couch, with Austin on his lap. He’s gingerly peeling away Austin’s clothing and pressing slow, lingering kisses against the skin that he exposes to the light. He takes his time, lathing his tongue against the sensitive spots that he finds, making Austin shiver from pleasure in his arms.
Artemiy brings his hand to his mouth and spits into his palm. He returns his attention to his cock, stroking gradually faster.
They’re in the backseat of his car after picking Austin up from The Warren, and he’s sucking bruising, possessive kisses into Austin’s throat. Nobody else kisses Austin like this. Nobody else gets to hear the pretty little whines that Austin makes. He runs his tongue over that little rabbit tattoo that Austin is so fond of, knowing that secretly, he loves it too. It’s a symbol of Austin’s happiness, something that the boy did just for himself. He wants to worship it.
They’re in his kitchen and Artimey is bent over Austin, whispering praise against Austin’s earlobes as his hands play with Austin’s hardened cock. He’s getting the boy all worked up, the tip of his cock is as flushed as his face and chest.
He lays Austin down on his bed and kisses down the boy’s petite body. His hands wrap around Austin’s waist almost completely, and he looks up into those deep brown eyes as he sucks the tip of Austin’s cock into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the tip before taking the length down his throat and holding it there, letting Austin moan and arch his back from the pleasure of it. He takes one of Austin’s hands in his and entwines their fingers together, guiding the boy’s other hand up to his head where it curls around the base of his hair and pulls-
Artimey chokes on a groan and comes, spilling over his fist as he rides out his orgasm.
Slowly, he gets his breathing back under control and waits for his heart to stop pounding. He extracts himself from his tangled sheets, wandering to his ensuite to wash up. As he does, the disgust he feels towards himself and his desires creep back up, making him feel ashamed.
Lying back down, he stares up at the ceiling blankly. He doesn’t know what to do with himself anymore.
He’ll text AJ today. Something mission related.
Sharpe turns over and tries to go back to sleep.