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this certainly was not where Nikita had expected to be on such a late night.
Well, he assumed he would be here, at Artyom's apartment, but he didn't think he'd be involved in the activity Artyom insisted he be involved in.
You'd think a boy who knew what murder felt like could handle this, but kneeling on the cold bathroom floor in front of his best friend was nearly too much.
“Why do I have to do this?” Nikita asks with a quirk of his brow, looking unsure.
Artyom shrugs, that stupid smile on his face “thought it'd be funny,” he paused “i was right.”
The noirette fidgets with the plastic razor in his hand, not at all buying that explanation “how is .. this funny?”
Artyom rolls his eyes “it doesn't matter, stop asking stupid questions. You wouldn't get it anyway.”
Nikita decides not to argue with that. Any argument with him was a losing battle, he'd never win.
“Well? Do I need to teach you how to do it?”
“No,” Nikita scoffed “I know how to do it just fine.”
Artyom snorts, muttering a quiet "I wouldn't say that.”
However Nikita chooses to ignore him, already feeling his cheeks warm up with embarrassment. He definitely didn't take care of himself in that way, he didn't care to. It took too much out of him.
He did know how to shave, though - or, probably. He probably knew how.
Hesitantly, he grabs the waistband of Artyom's sweatpants and pulls them down just enough to access his pubic hair. He's careful to not pull them down too far.
After that, he grabs the bottle of shaving cream he'd been given, popping open the cap and putting some onto his fingers.
He gently applies it to the hair, swallowing hard. His gut twisted with something he wasn't quite sure he wanted to acknowledge, especially as the blonde let out a soft hum.
He pulls his hand away and wipes it off onto a towel, getting the excess off.
“Uh,” he speaks before he's thought about whether or not his question is stupid “how do you want me to get the hair out of the razor .. since there's no water.”
Artyom looks at him like he was the most ignorant person in the world “just use your fingers to get it out and wipe it on the towel. I'll wash it. Not that complicated, nikita.”
The thought of that partially repulsed and aroused him, but he just nodded his head and continued, pressing the razor to his skin and dragging it down.
In a way it was kind of satisfying, like a weird video you don't want to look away from, but it also did plenty for the imagination. To think of what might happen if he pulled his pants down just a little more - he couldn't help himself but indulge in the thought.
Once there was too much hair caught on the razor, he carefully drags his finger over it to get all of it off. It feels weird on his fingers, the hair getting stuck in the crevices of his skin, but he can't say he minds it too much.
“Are you admiring it?”
Nikitas head snaps up immediately, realizing hed been rubbing the foam between his fingers “im not a .. fuckin’ fag.” he defends himself quickly with a huff, wiping it off onto the towel while artyom snickers.
Nikita continues shaving the light blonde hair off of the boy's body, finding a sort of rhythm. The smell of the shaving cream was so familiar, he guessed it was the one he usually used, to which he took note of.
He always smelled so good and he had no idea how. Okay, well, that sounds deranged on a few levels, but it was hard not to notice how he rarely ever smelled like sweat or musk. He smelled like good deodorant, cologne, and now shaving cream. It was only natural to smell like sweat sometimes, and when he'd joke about how he smelled like a girl, Artyom would just brush him off and say nikita had no idea what it took to even smell like anything other than an animal. Yeah, alright.
“Does it usually take you this long?,” the blonde grows impatient with Nikita's slowness "I don't even know why I'm asking.”
He ignores the implication, not wanting to think about how he knows that “I'm not taking that long. I'm just trying to be careful.”
He rolls his eyes again “im not a girl, kitja, my skin isnt delicate. Just hurry up.”
“Fine.” Nikita huffed and tried to pick up the pace, managing to do so.
He gets done much faster with Artyom's insistence, leaving him mostly bare “what about .. the rest?”
The question hangs in the air for a moment until the other turns away from him, pulling his pants up “ill do it myself later.”
“Couldnt you have done all of it yourself?” he asks, finally standing up.
“Yeah, but I preferred it this way.”
Whatever that means, Nikita guessed.
Then, as if he'd not been tortured enough, Artyom pulls off his shirt and drops it on the floor.
“Can you shave under my arms too? You might as well.”
Nikita audibly gulps at such an ask.
“Do I really have to?”
“Do you want to stay over tonight?”
The noirette lets out a heavy sigh.
Artyom lifts up one of his arms, allowing Nikita to apply the shaving cream all over again. He supposed this wasn't as bad as being down there, but he couldn't be normal about anything ever.
He does his best to shave his hair, trying to solely focus on the task at hand, but it was hard when he noticed that he hadn't showered yet - he could smell the sweat on him. For once.
It was like something instinctual clicked in his brain, now desperately wanting to really smell him.
Just as he finishes, he hears Artyom say "I know what you're thinking.”
He nervously looks over at him, taking note of his facial expression.
“Just do it, Nikita. I know you want to.”
That was all Nikita needed.
He sets down the razor on the sink and uses the towel to wipe off the excess foam on his skin.
He sets the towel down and hesitantly drapes an arm across the boy's chest and shoulder, ducking his head down just enough to press his nose into the desired area.
He smelled like an actual boy. Not some man trying to impress ladies and needing to be clean and proper twenty four seven - he smelled warm, almost musky, and certainly sweaty.
As much as Nikita loved his cologne and deodorant, he much preferred this. It made Artyom seem more human, like he wasn't just a perfect robot.
Indulgently, he sticks out his tongue and licks a stripe up his smooth skin. He tastes faintly of chemicals from the shaving cream, disliking the foamy texture in his mouth of the little bit that didn't get wiped up, as well as what he was mainly after. It tasted salty, of course, which only furthered his imagination once more.
Artyom chuckled, pushing Nikita away “alright, alright, that's enough.”
Nikita backs off reluctantly, but is grateful it was stopped there “sorry.”
Artyom shakes his head, turning away again “just get out, im gonna shower.” he couldn't stop himself from snickering at the other boy's neediness, though.
“Yeah, okay.” that was probably for the best.
Maybe he could crack the door open and watch him shower?
Jesus, nikita, pull yourself together.