Daughter Of The Revolution: Look who's getting sidetracked and not doing the things she needs to be doing. Yep, that's right, this authoress, right here. Well, thought about this oneshot at work and when I got home wrote this down right away. I just wanted porn, okay!
Warnings Include:
Forced Relationship
Dubcon
Alfred never did anyone any wrong. He was a good boy, had been since the day he came out of his mother. So his confusion was understandable when he had been grabbed off the sidewalk after walking home from night classes.
So many thoughts ran through his head as he sat there curled in the seat he'd been forced in. He was blind folded and, after a struggle and showing his kidnappers how strong his lungs were, bound and gagged. He wanted to cry, but heroes don't cry—still, he sure as hell wanted to!
What had he done? He couldn't think of anything, nothing. What did these men want from him? Money? He was flat broke from classes and his family were just your average middle class family. Plus, he was certain that he wasn't related to some infamous spy or anything.
Alfred was innocent, completely innocent. They had to have nabbed the wrong guy. Just had to!
When the car stopped and hands flew to him again, dragging him out, Alfred cried, he literally cried. He was going to die, was going to be one of those cold cases, he just knew it. He'd be sleeping with the fishes soon, and he didn't know why. God, why him?!
He jumped when he felt himself shoved into a room and there were more hands on him to steady him. When he felt someone untie his hands and then hold his wrists still only to begin pulling off his hoodie and shirt he felt a cold chill encase his body. What were they doing to him? The feeling of his belt ripping from his pants startled Alfred even more and his handlers weren't too gentle when they set to the task of shimmying him out of his jeans.
God, what were they doing?!
His arms were stretched and when his ankles were grabbed to keep him from kicking Alfred swallowed hard. Were they going to rape him? Oh God, what if he was going to get raped? No! No, no, no, no!
His struggles intensified right then and there. He was decently strong and managed to knock a few of his captors loose, but that only antagonized them. More came and held him down. His fight to be free only ended when a particularly strong man backhanded him. Alfred's cheek burned and his jaw ached from the impact.
He whimpered and instead trembled in their grasps. Alfred couldn't explain why this was happening to him. He was a good son, always obeyed his mother and father—well there were some occasions where he had gotten a little rowdy, but what teenager hadn't?—he was an excellent big brother, just ask his little brother, Mattie, did he ever grow up with a bully? No, because big brother Alfred always fought them off. He was polite to the ladies, respected his elders, always courteous of strangers, and treated foreigners kindly to make them feel welcome.
Literally, Alfred F. Jones was the perfect human being.
Yet there he was, taken just a block away from campus, stripped and bound . . . like a common criminal. His luck had run out, had to be. It was just time injustice claimed its next innocent victim, and that victim just so happened to be him.
Pulled back to the reality around him, Alfred's eyes widened underneath the blindfold. Fabric was being slid onto him, he felt a shirt at first, a silky shirt at that, and then he felt pants shoot up his legs. A jacket, another belt, new socks and even shoes. He had almost calmed hadn't something wrapped around his neck that nearly gave him a heart attack.
He released his breath when he felt the long piece was nothing but a tie. A tie?
Dabs of cologne just under his neck and then a comb running through his hair to straighten whatever stray lock was tussled in his struggle with his captors. He was then pulled around again, back into a car with an overwhelming smell of rich leather, and then he was pushed out again.
His kidnappers brought him to some place, he didn't know where. They spoke a funny language. But Alfred was certain he was inside a building now.
Push, push, push until his knees bumped into a . . . a . . . table? His hands immediately reached out to feel and only managed to skim over soft table cloth when firm hands grasped his shoulders and guided him over to the left. The press forced him to sit and the moment he landed in his chair the blindfold was taken from him.
At first the dark room was just that—dark. He blinked and squinted his eyes until the light from the three candles in front of him showed him the outlines of objects and . . .
His eyes widened when he took in the room, but mostly when they landed on the person seated just across from him at the small dining table.
"M-Mr. Braginsky?"
It was Mr. Braginsky. Alfred knew his regular anywhere. The older man came to the little Italian restaurant Alfred worked at every day for lunch. It came to the point where Alfred didn't have to take his order anymore, just told the cooks to make his usual favorite. Serving drinks and breadsticks was all Alfred had to do with him. And, damn, did he tip good.
But the question was what he was doing there. Alfred blinked in confusion before glancing around, trying to catch any sight of his captors.
Slowly, leaning over the table he asked, "Were-Were you taken too, Mr. Braginsky?"
The laugh that followed the question really did confuse Alfred, and if he hadn't been near blind as a bat without his glasses he might have caught the sight of the smirk splayed across the man's face after his chuckle died down.
"Nyet," Mr. Braginsky answered. Oh, that was right, Mr. Braginsky was Russian, moved to America some years back if Alfred recalled. Come to think of it . . . that funny language his captors spoke sounded an awful lot like the language he always used to stupefy Alfred with when he waited on him. "This is my home, Alfred."
Home? Alfred blinked again and turned to take in his surroundings. With the dim lighting and no glasses to see perfect he couldn't make out much, but from the shapes of various objects and the style of the décor he figured it was a pretty nice place—after all, Mr. Braginsky was always seen in a nice suit when he dined in for lunch.
Turning back to the Russian, Alfred took note of the dining ware and the nice looking plates. His hands moved a little further from the nice dishware and then he noticed his own sleeves. He was wearing a jacket alright, a very nice and expensive looking jacket. Raising his hands he even noticed the cufflinks—holy shit! They were diamond!
With wide eyes he looked down at his body and took in the perfectly fitted suit. His captors must have taken him to a tailor or something because what he was wearing snug him in all the right places and—reaching up Alfred touched his hair, sure enough it had been combed to look presentable.
"I do hope you were not sentimentally attached to your wardrobe earlier, but, since this is an evening date I saw it fit to adorn you in attire befitting the occasion." When Mr. Braginsky said that Alfred felt his jaw slacken.
"Wait . . . you . . . did all this?" The fact that the man had mentioned "date" hadn't even registered in Alfred's jumbled mind yet.
"Da." Mr. Braginsky chuckled a little. His smile was pleasant enough, but that didn't stop Alfred from trembling at all the suggestions of such a notion.
Alfred just didn't know what to say. He went rigid at the confession, his eyes continuously blinking in startled confusion. The motion alerted Mr. Braginsky and when he moved out of his seat and came toward him, Alfred found himself pressing his back into his chair. His heart leapt in his chest when the man reached into his jacket and pulled something out.
"You see much better with these on, da?" There, held out before Alfred, was what looked like his missing glasses. Alfred squinted his eyes for a moment before the frames moved closer and he found them being placed on his face. The way Mr. Braginsky returned the glasses was very tender and Alfred couldn't stop from staring up at him when he did this, especially when he could see better.
The Russian's touch stayed longer than necessary, but Alfred didn't say anything to it. He was too afraid to. But the near quiet hiss that escaped through his teeth informed the older male of his condition. The frame of the glasses brushed against his injured cheek and immediately Mr. Braginsky frowned.
He leaned forward a little, examining the wound. The tips of his gloved fingers traced the forming bruise before he backed away and turned on his heel to return to his seat. He sat quickly, huffed out an annoyed sigh before he called in someone. Alfred had never seen this man before, but the wonder if this character was one of the men who nabbed him did run through his mind in silence.
Mr. Braginsky said something to the man in Russian. The other nodded before leaving the both of them alone. The frown unsettled Alfred, egging him to squirm in his seat.
"Uh, ch-champagne, sir?" Alfred turned and noticed a waiter holding out a decently sized bottle. He offered it to Mr. Braginsky first and immediately Alfred observed the way his persona changed, pulling out a smile for the waiter and his present guest.
"Ah, nyet, just vodka for me, Toris. Why don't you see if Alfred would like some?" Mr. Braginsky's smile seemed pleasant, but there was just some aura about him that had Alfred on the edge of his seat—literally.
When the servant scurried over to Alfred the blond looked up at the offered bottle. "I don't dri—" Out of the corner of his eye he glanced toward Mr. Braginsky. There wasn't in particular anything offensive about his features or mannerisms, but after Alfred's current predicament his gut churned at the slightest thought of denying him anything. "Uh, yeah, yeah, I'll take some."
Alfred didn't touch his drink. Didn't really say anything. His brain was finally working properly though and everything that had happened to him and what was said of it were finally being pieced together.
"You're unusually quiet." Alfred looked up toward Mr. Braginsky who was leaning forward on the table, elbows touching near his plate and chin leaning on his folded hands. "Why, at Vargas' restaurant only food can act as a means to shut you up."
Alfred knew it was rude but he couldn't bring himself to look at the older man. He was just unnerved . . . frightened of all the possibilities running in his head.
"Well, you would be too, sir, if you were grabbed after classes and roughed up before being taken to God-knows-where." Once, Alfred looked up once and met Mr. Braginsky's gaze. He immediately regretted it, the man was frowning.
A sigh left the Russian's lips as he pushed away from the table and leaned back in his chair. "I am sorry my men weren't following the proper orders set out. Trust me when I say it will not happen again."
Great, so did that mean the next time Alfred was snatched off the street they'd treat him with tenderness and fluff? God, what the hell was going on?
"What . . ." Alfred closed his eyes for a moment and inhaled a steadying breath just to calm his nerves. "What do you do?" He could think of a couple million ideas.
Mr. Braginsky just smiled at him. "Ah, now we are progressing. I am a business man, Alfred, I own a chain of various businesses throughout this city and a few others. I wouldn't want to bore you with needless detail."
Alfred swallowed and nodded his head. "Is there . . . is there a reason why I'm here, Mr. Braginsky?" Again, Alfred looked at Mr. Braginsky.
"Please, call me Ivan," Mr. Braginsky recommended. "I thought you were a bright young man, Alfred. This is a date."
When Alfred swallowed again it was harder, much harder with a dry mouth and throat. So, this was how the mysterious Mr. Braginsky caught his eyed partners. Understandable. Alfred hadn't placed that one on the table, but he sure will now.
What did he do to catch his eye? Yeah he was friendly to him, he was friendly with all his customers. Alfred was server of the month several times and the bosses loved him. He hadn't meant to put himself out to anyone. Definitely wasn't looking for a relationship right out of high school, God no.
Thinking diligently Alfred scanned his thoughts. He tried to think of what he had done to give Mr. Braginsky any sort of idea that wasn't meant to be. He honestly couldn't think of anything he did except provide some small talk and sometimes sit with him when he was on his break. Nothing much.
He then scanned his thinking process deeper, trying to think of the times Mr. Braginsky had shown any signs of attraction. Hell, he thought the man was married at this age, or at least had a girl of high class and high taste. Sure, Mr. Braginsky tipped him favorably—if Alfred wasn't working during Mr. Braginsky's usual visits he usually tipped less—there were a few times Alfred had caught the older man staring at him from over his drink which made Alfred always assume he had some blotching stain on his uniform or forgot to wipe off food from his face, all of those usual thoughts.
He just . . . he hadn't known Mr. Braginsky had taken a fancy to him. It didn't make any sense at all. Alfred wasn't rich, he was a college student and barely managed to get good grades, he was young, God much too young for Mr. Braginsky. Looks wise Alfred would say he, himself, was average. He didn't date much in high school so he assumed his ranking average or low among the ladies.
Why? Why him?
"Why?" Alfred's eyes were fixated on his plate set before him—dinner had yet to arrive, if that's what they were waiting for. "Why do you want . . . me?"
There was a silence before Alfred finally rose his gaze. When he looked at Mr. Braginsky—Ivan, the man just sat there, smiling at him, as if observing an interesting painting or sculpture of some sort. He looked that fascinated by him, which made absolutely no sense to Alfred.
"I enjoy your presence," Ivan answered Alfred's question. "I'm a man of solitude. I don't like many people, and many people don't like me. But, you're one of the few I can tolerate and so I opted to invite you here."
Alfred was crying inside—crying. He'd already figured by now that Ivan was some sort of a mob boss, had to be. God, it was the freakin' Russian mafia. Why? WHY ALFRED?!
Dinner setting down before him pulled Alfred away from his thoughts. He eyed the dishes curiously and when he looked up toward Ivan he watched him thank the servers as they left and then pull out the cloth napkin and set it down on his lap the fancy way. Ivan caught him staring and motioned to the food.
"Is good," he promised. "Eat, you'll like it."
Alfred didn't have any issue with eating. Looking down at the dishes they looked so good and . . . expensive. When Ivan began eating so to encourage him he knew it wasn't poisoned—or at least he didn't think it was.
It's just . . . how could he eat in a situation like this?
"Go ahead, eat," Ivan once again encouraged. Alfred looked at him and wondered if the man even noticed he hadn't taken one sip from the champagne offered . . . he didn't drink alcohol, was kinda too young for that.
Looking back down at his food Alfred sighed. What the hell, it was only a dinner date. Maybe if he ate fast enough he'd be released. He really wanted to get out of the place and back to his springy mattress at the dorms—he never thought he'd miss that bed so much in his life.
Reaching out Alfred attempted to grab a fork, if he had known which one to grab. There were multiple knives, forks, and spoons. Man!
Ivan had seemed to have caught his struggle and smiled. "Outside ones first, Fredka."
Alfred looked up at him and blinked at the . . . was that a nickname? Shaking his head he turned back to the task at hand and picked up the fork the farthest from the plate and used it as necessary. Both ate quietly, and while Alfred wanted to just scarf everything down and be done with it so he could be returned home he was oddly taking his time, chewing and chewing and chewing.
"I hope you are ready for desert. I know how much you like sweet things," Ivan spoke up, completely ignoring the fact that Alfred had hardly even touched his main dish.
Alfred stilled when the servers came in and began collecting the plates and then set down the desert. It looked appetizing, but Alfred was a little more concerned with if he'd ever get home than with nulling his sweet tooth.
"Will I be returned back to my dorm soon, Mr. Bra—" Alfred caught himself just in time to see that frown appear on the Russian's face. "Ivan," Alfred corrected, hoping he said the name right. "I've got work tomorrow, and—"
"Nyet, you do not," Ivan informed. "You are off work tomorrow."
Damn it. Alfred bit his bottom lip. "Yeah, well I have tons of exams to study for and—"
"Testing is not due for a few more weeks," Ivan stumped Alfred's excuses again. Violet eyes then met blue. "You have plenty of time to study." His smile afterwards just flat out disturbed the American. "I'm certain you'll make good grades."
Alfred's never felt like a prisoner in his life. But constantly he reminded himself that the night was young and after desert he'd likely be set free. No one wanted to keep an annoying brat like him around for very long, and he was certain Ivan wouldn't either.
Pulling out a smile that was a lot harder to keep than remembered. Alfred spoke saying, "Well, uh, this was nice, the dinner and all." Okay, so he was a little unnerved when he pulled Ivan's attention to him again, those amethyst eyes just froze him right on the spot, such an authoritative stare. "The whole evening was nice. I said to myself that I needed a little treat after all the hard work I've done as of late, so, uh, thanks for this." Small talk really was hard when it was so forced and . . . awkward. "Oh, and thanks for the new garb and all." Alfred glanced down at his clothing. "But it's a little too nice for me, I'm sure the tailor and the jewelers will want these back."
"They are yours to keep," Ivan announced. "I would appreciate it that you do."
"Oh, yeah, sure, if you're cool with that." Alfred chuckled nervously. What the hell was he supposed to do with a couple hundred dollar suit? "Don't really know when I'll bust this outfit out again though." He chuckled again, worrying that the hitches at the end alerted Ivan to his panic.
"You can wear it again when you go out with me," Ivan suggested, or maybe subtly demanded.
"Yeah, yeah, okay." Alfred found himself nodding and yet in another awkward silence. He really needed an excuse to bolt but they were all shot down. Think, think, think. Looking around he tried to find a clock of some sort. Ah, there one was, nice looking grandfather clock. "Eh, it's getting late. I know I'm keeping you up, Ivan. Don't want to intrude."
"Rest assured you are not," Ivan said after pushing his finished dish out of the way.
"Oh, well, good to know." Alfred sighed and watched yet again as the servers came in and took up his dishes, his unfinished and untouched dishes. Finally he felt safer to frown. "Are you . . . am I going to be brought back to the dorms? I can't think of a reason why you'd want to trouble yourself with me any more than necessary." Alfred offered a silly smile but Ivan's own unique smile really did dampen his mood.
"As I've stated before, your presence eases me," Ivan assured, setting down his silverware and pushing his cloth napkin back onto the table. "And do not worry, I will make sure you return to your living space, but that will be after the sex."
Alfred choked on his own spit, wasn't easy to swallow with the dry throat. Wide eyes stared at Ivan, not caring if he came off offensive for such displays of appalling. It was just . . . just . . . WHAT?!
His jaw hung so loosely that his mouth opened to reveal his outward shock. It was clear he was physically trembling now, especially when the servers came out and began removing everything from the table, the glasses, the candles, and other decorations. Now nothing was in between he and Ivan and that Russian just stared at him, he stared at Alfred like he hadn't taken one bite of his dinner previous and was starving.
They didn't sit for very long at the cleared table. Ivan stood and as he approached Alfred the younger's resolve began to shake. His hands fell into his lap the moment Ivan held out his own hand to coax him to stand.
Alfred just sat. He sat and stared at Ivan's gloved hand and then up at the man.
"Come, Alfred." Those eyes just seemed to glow so unnaturally. Alfred was frightened. He didn't know where Ivan was going to take him next, well he had an idea, but he wasn't a hundred percent certain.
What would happen if Alfred rejected Ivan? Said, "no," to him? Alfred was certain that would piss Mr. Braginsky off and no doubt land him at the bottom of some river. This was a life or death situation here!
So Alfred had no choice but to reach out and place his strong hand in Ivan's stronger grip. Ivan pulled him to his feet and tugged him along, the dining room and all its bearings forgotten. Maybe if Alfred hadn't been so scared he would have enjoyed looking at the rest of the home as he was lead through room and hall and up flights of stairs.
Maybe if he hadn't been so close to pissing his pants then Alfred would have noticed the sheer size of Ivan's room and all the lavish furnish therein, but he hadn't because the feel of Ivan's lips took all thought from things unimportant or irrelevant to Alfred's situation away. Tears pricked at the corner of Alfred's eyes at the feel of the surprisingly soft mouth of Ivan as the man leaned down behind him after leading him into the room and gifted his neck with a kiss.
The soft click of the bedroom door rung in Alfred's ears so loudly he was going deaf. The only other sound he could hear was the pounding of his own heart. When another kiss was placed on his neck, this one a little higher than the last one, Alfred's breath hitched.
But Alfred stood there, it was all he could do. He simply didn't have the power nor the balls to stand up to Ivan, not after realizing all he could do to him or even the people he cared about.
A tear did slip down his cheek when a gloved hand reached up and gently caressed his neck, subtly pulling it to the side so Ivan's lips could have more access to that tanned neck of Alfred's. With the larger man standing right behind him all Alfred wanted to do was make a run for it, but running meant moving forward and moving forward meant closing in toward the bed and . . . God!
Alfred had taken in the bed of the room at least. His heart sinking after realizing that would be his final destination. It was a large canopy bed, dark red sheets, oak posts and headboard.
Inhaling a shaking breath Alfred closed his eyes, willing himself to just wish this all away. He hadn't asked for this, in no way had he put himself out. What had he done? He couldn't think of anything, anything at all and yet there he was . . . on the verge of losing his virginity.
Alfred's never been with a man before. In fact, he only had one girlfriend all of his last two years of high school. Lien . . . yeah, he missed her. After graduation they had a huge fight and she left him. Was a shame, he really thought he might have loved his high school sweetheart.
He'd last heard of her—
"Ah," Alfred gasped out when he felt teeth rake down his neck. He shivered from the touch and when he felt Ivan wrap his arms around him only to begin unbuttoning his coat he paled. He wanted to reach up and stop those hands, but just feeling them work on his out layer of clothing and their demand in movement when they began pulling the coat off, Alfred just did nothing . . . absolutely nothing like the loser he was.
Come on, damn it, Jones, pull yourself together! Heroes don't just let others run all over them! Alfred's inner conscious shouted at him. But at the same time that smart voice at the back of his head said in reason, Just what can I do? He's a fucking mob boss. If I say no then there goes me and everyone that knows me. I have no say, no choice in anything!
When the jacket dropped Alfred was turned around. He gulped when Ivan took hold of his tie and warily tightened it, pulling at the loose end. Alfred's wide eyes looked up at him with immense worry, but Ivan simply smiled and tugged on the tie once more, pulling Alfred into a kiss.
Alfred's eyes squeezed shut and the contact had his lips pressing together so quick they hardened. The kiss would definitely not be enjoyable to the other partner with Alfred scrunching up like that. Ivan didn't seem to mind however when he pulled back and offered Alfred a relaxed smile.
The tie was gone fast and when it came to unbuttoning the smaller buttons on Alfred's dress shirt, why, Ivan's gloves had to go. Alfred opened his eyes at the pause of touch and noticed Ivan had raised his hand to his mouth where his teeth bit into the leather glove and pulled it off. This was Alfred's first time seeing Ivan's bare hands.
He couldn't take his eyes off of them, even as they reached forward and began unbuttoning the smaller buttons of his dress shirt. The knuckles, the fingers; they were covered in tattoos. Many bore words that he couldn't understand.
Alfred had been so transfixed on the ink he hadn't noticed that his dress shirt had been properly opened, and exploring hands parted the folds, pressing coolly against his abdominal muscles. He jumped from the feel and looked back toward Ivan who simply smiled, rubbing, admiring the feel of developing muscle. When his hands padded up over pectorals his thumbs rubbed over dusty pink nipples. Alfred jumped again and wondered if it was from the touch or just the coolness of Ivan's large hands.
Even if Alfred felt his reactions were less than pleasing Ivan didn't seem to mind, in fact, his smile grew the more he rubbed against Alfred's chest. His own gaze scanning every inch of skin revealed to him, marveling at him even.
"You're as warm as I felt you would be," Ivan spoke as his hands grasped Alfred's ribcage and pulled him closer, letting the boy's chest touch his own. "Mmm, sitting next to you I could feel the heat, but now that you're closer, skin pressing again mine, you're the flame I knew you to be."
Ivan leaned down and pressed his mouth to Alfred's neck again. Alfred struggled to not push away. He might have been subconsciously doing just that from the feel of Ivan's hands grasping him a little uncomfortably tighter.
"Mr. Braginsky." Alfred hadn't meant it to sound like a whine, but it may have just come out like that. "I-Ivan, please . . . I've never done this before."
Ivan pulled his mouth away from ravishing Alfred's neck and looked down at the boy with acknowledgment. "Da, I know," he informed, to which Alfred's eyes widened. Just how did he know something as personal as that? "You kept to sports in school and only ever dated once, a female at that."
"H-How did you know all of that?" Alfred felt his insides freeze in wondering how long Mr. Braginsky had been an admirer, or if he had just . . .
Ivan leaned forward and kissed Alfred softly. The dumbfounded expression on the American left room for soft pliable lips that Ivan thoroughly enjoyed for a few seconds. When he pulled away his fingers traced the supple lips, his eyes following their movement.
"I do extensive research before I decide on a mate," Ivan informed.
Alfred was too thrown back by how much this . . . practical stranger knew about him to even comprehend what words were coming out of Ivan's mouth. "Mate?"
The hand tracing Alfred's lips dipped, instead cupping his jaw and tilting his head back just slightly for Ivan to lean down and connect their lips in a deeper kiss. The kiss distracted Alfred enough for Ivan to slip him out of his dress shirt, leaving it fluttering to the floor, uncaring if it wrinkled or stained. The chill of the room, however, alerted Alfred to his nakedness.
He shivered. His arms rose to wrap around himself, but Ivan had him pulled so close that all his arms could do was wrap around Ivan's frame and hug him for warmth. Alfred hadn't meant to encourage, but it seemed that was exactly what happened.
The kiss deepened at that, well, until Alfred's glasses pressed awkwardly into Ivan's nose. The man darted back and sighed in annoyance at the lenses. He reached up, took off the offending object and set it aside. Alfred was glad he at least set it on a nightstand instead of haphazardly dropping it to the floor like the rest of his clothing.
After the glasses were out of the way Alfred's world turned fuzzy again. Damn his bad eyesight, but then again, this wasn't such a bad thing, considering what was happening to him now.
Ivan seemed to take note of this. His hands reached forward, cupping Alfred's face and pulling him closer. "Can you see me?" he questioned, his eyes paying close attention to the way Alfred's own irises and pupils focused and unfocused. Closer he leaned again. "Can you see me, Alfred?" The squinting of Alfred's eyes didn't cease and so one more time he leaned forward, his nose rubbing against Alfred's freckled cheek. "Fredka, can you see me?"
Ivan must have seen the way Alfred's eyes focused. His smile was more than pleased even at finding out the length of Alfred's sight.
The Russian chuckled, nodding his head. "Da, then I shall stay this close, dorogoy."
Lips clashed again and this time Alfred felt the pressing urge from the other. Slowly, Ivan was losing his gentle side. Alfred hadn't been ready for this kiss actually, so he nearly choked from lack of air as it was stolen by the older man . . . God, just how old was Ivan?
When the backs of his knees hit something soft and he fell backwards with a yelp, Alfred had realized he had been moving, been subtly pushed and guided by Ivan back toward the bed. But no matter what, Alfred didn't fall onto his back, his arms reached back and planted themselves firmly on the mattress. His eyes wide and lips parted and swollen as he looked up at Ivan who stood near him, knees touching his own.
Alfred should have tried something, rolled to the side or jumped around Ivan to run for the door, but he just sat there berating himself for failed mental escape scenarios. Each one ended in him dead. He just couldn't risk his own safety . . . if he wasn't already by submitting to the wretched man.
So he sat there, eyes wide and observing Ivan reach up and unbutton his own long jacket. He wore a gray vest underneath and a white dress shirt. The ascot actually wasn't even an ascot, but some sort of scarf, the loose ends hung against his chest when his vest was disrobed.
When he began unbuttoning his dress shirt Alfred swallowed hard. Tattoos, more of them, all over Ivan's chest and arms. Alfred didn't doubt that they covered his back as well. Yeah, he was definitely right about him being in the Russian mob without Ivan outwardly saying it.
The American caught sight of weird markings on the Russian's neck when he unwrapped his scarf, folded it and set it aside. Alfred was squinting his eyes just to see what they were. He thought at first they were tattoos but he wasn't quite sure.
The jingle of a belt buckle had Alfred's eyes darting down toward Ivan's hands and their grip on the older man's belt that was too quickly undone and the fly unzipped. Alfred swallowed hard once more and found himself slowly scooting back on the bed, trying to inch away from the Russian as much as he could. Ivan seemed to have caught onto his movement however and reached out, looping his fingers into the boy's belt and pulling Alfred back by his hips.
An unmanly squeak left Alfred's mouth, he'll admit that. He hadn't expected Ivan to suddenly reach out and drag him back to the edge of the bed. His arms supporting him slipped from the movement and now Alfred felt vulnerable lying there on his back, looking up at Ivan as the older took to the task of unbuckling his pants.
The zipper hardly made a sound—was very nice pants—but that didn't mean it didn't ring in Alfred's ears like the sirens of an emergency vehicle. Alfred was shaking again. He could feel those large hands on his hips and when one slipped lower, fingers slipping into his opened fly to his boxers he gasped.
He should have swatted that hand away for touching him there. It was private and certainly not for someone like Ivan to touch. God, he was getting molested!
Alfred had thought he had let out a sigh, but the tone was too deep. His eyes flicked up to see Ivan had closed his own eyes, letting a sigh escape his lips. His hand did not move, but simply laid on Alfred's crotch perhaps just to feel the warmth.
The movement eventually came. It came when Ivan opened his eyes and stared into Alfred's own, a shade darker, more dangerous. Slowly he applied pressure before Alfred choked at the circular motions meant to stimulate him.
Only one other person's touched his dick before, and he knew that she would be the only one to make him melt at her touch. But, if that were true, then how . . .
Alfred's eyes widened when Ivan slipped his hand into his boxers and pulled him out. He couldn't believe it—he was hard! Or, at least getting there. Alfred's lips parted in disbelief and when his eyes darted back toward Ivan he watched a pleased—and, was that relief?—grin splay across his lips.
A few squeezes and pressure in spots Alfred hadn't even known to be that sensitive at and he was pulsing in Ivan's hand. It felt weird, because Ivan had such big hands and a strong grip. The tighter he gripped the more the pulsing pleasure surged electricity through his body and he shivered at the sensation.
His ex had such small hands, thin fingers as well. She was good and all, but when Ivan squeezed him . . . oh . . .
Alfred's head fell back, cranking at the way his skull hung and bumped against his shoulders. His lips parted and eyes dilated. Yes, oh, yes that felt fucking amazing!
To a horror that came too late Alfred pressed against that hand, wanting him to squeeze him tighter. Ivan did not, instead he released Alfred and the moan escaping his lips nearly turned into a whine of dismay hadn't Alfred caught himself. Dear Lord, what was he thinking acting like that?!
That strong hand of Ivan's that had been wrapped around Alfred's cock just a moment ago now cupped the boy's jaw, pulling him forward to press into a kiss. Alfred still refused to kiss back. Ivan never dejected to his refusal.
Sound of protest did come out of Alfred's mouth eventually, but it was muffled, swallowed up by the Russian who refused to let go of his mouth just as he slid his hands down back into Alfred's pants, and in their descent the article slipped with them. When Ivan pulled his mouth away he pulled himself away, pulling at the pants and undergarments all slipping down Alfred's thighs.
"No, please!" Alfred gasped out, quickly pulling himself away just as the pants were tugged from his ankles. He was shaking, already having wrapped his arms around his legs and pressed himself near the headboard of the bed. "Please, Mr. B-Braginsky."
Ivan sighed, pushing the pants aside and then reaching forward, pressing his fingers to Alfred's lips to silence him. "Call me Ivan. I will give you that luxury."
This was not happening, no, just couldn't be. Alfred's head began shaking, tears bubbling up in the corner of his eyes making his irises shine, fascinating the older male more by the second.
"No, please, I'm not . . . I'm not ready, I can't—"
"Of course you are or else I would not have invited you here," Ivan replied. But that didn't seem to calm Alfred one bit. A tear slipped down and his face dipped downward, pressing against the palms of his hands as his shoulders shook.
A startled gasp escaped Alfred's mouth when a calloused hand wrapped around the back of his neck and held the base of his skull like the head of a puppet, grasping, pushing and pulling. Ivan had tugged him back over to him, forcing him to look at him and see that frightening frown of his.
"Do not cry. Little children cry, and you are not, da?"
No matter what, Alfred trembled in Ivan's grasp. God, he should have tried to run for it. Ending up at the bottom of a ravine didn't sound so bad right about now.
The smile threw Alfred off, especially when fingers combed through his hair, petting his scalp and then rubbing his cheek, minding of his bruised one.
"This is your first time. It is understanding to be nervous." Strangely, Alfred felt that Ivan took to heart his unease. Maybe. When the Russian caressed his neck it did seem to have a small effect in relaxing him. "I will be gentle, ease yourself."
Alfred was most definitely not relaxed, however when Ivan held his gaze something strange happened. He couldn't look away. Their gazes melded and Alfred could feel the commands in those amethyst irises. He stopped crying when those demanding eyes so commanded, he eased his strained muscles when those demanding eyes so commanded. Now he was laying underneath Ivan, his hands pressing against those tattooed shoulders but not pressing away, their gazes still locked.
The strange hypnotic effect seemed to have distracted Alfred enough for Ivan to fully undress himself. They were pressed close to each other now, skin on skin, and Ivan's hand, lathered in warm oil was rubbing him again, squeezing just the way Alfred liked it. The pressure broke the gazing spell just as Alfred's eyes fluttered shut and a moan echoed deep in his throat.
When Ivan's fingers pinched and twisted the skin on Alfred's cockhead he threw his head back into the pillows underneath him and mewled. His hips already began to buck into that skilled hand and the shame for standing so erect for someone he shouldn't have was delayed. His legs spread in appreciation for the touch, an action which Ivan had been waiting for.
Alfred had pressed his own knuckles against his lips and shook with pleasure and shame. His eyes closed as tight as possible. He didn't want to see how Ivan looked at him. Alfred's never felt so ashamed in his life. He felt like some goddamn whore and inwardly cursed himself for wanting more.
When warm liquid poured down his torso Alfred's eyes opted to open. Ivan had pulled away from him slightly, holding a glass bottle in hand full of that warm oil. When enough of the substance was poured Ivan placed the bottle down on the lampstand next to the bed and pressed back down onto Alfred.
His arms framed Alfred's body, elbows pressing into the sheets to anchor him as he traced his lips down Alfred's chest and abdomen. Where his mouth kissed and sucked his hands were, rubbing, spreading the oil as if he were lathering Alfred like the polishing of a bronzed statue. The oil felt nice, and when combined with the almost loving kisses, well . . .
Alfred's had sex before, with his old girlfriend that is. Senior prom. It's just, their roles were reversed. He was the one over her, kissing her, rubbing her thighs. Everything Ivan was doing to him was just . . . it wasn't natural to him and he trembled. Trembled just like Lien had that night.
Sucking in, Alfred held his breath when Ivan's warm exhales teetered close to his thighs. Oil slicked hands rubbed the muscles there before inch by inch they began rubbing inside, applying just the slightest of pressure to spread easily. Ivan was good. He was a very experienced lover, his methods were near ingenious, but Alfred was still biting at all of his nerves if only for situation's sake.
He wondered if perhaps Ivan would have gotten to know him a little better the normal way—through talking—and then in time formally asked him out to a date, what would Alfred have done? He'd never been with a man, much less thought about being with one far older than him—he knew Ivan was probably in his late thirties, just had to be. If things would have progressed like that, would he had felt better, about all this, about Ivan—scratching that he was a mob boss—about his presence, his smiles, the way he touched him, about sex?
Well, Alfred would never know what an opportunity like that would be like. It was already a done deal now, not taking anything back . . . like Alfred could.
"Hhuh!" Alfred's neck went rigid and he forgot how to breathe for a moment when he felt a thick wet tongue drag itself up the underside of his cock. On instinct his legs spread further, giving way to Ivan's rubbing hands. Raising his head he looked down and saw just in time Ivan lick up the string of precum that caught on his tongue in its ascent up the phallus.
Alfred definitely didn't expect Ivan to suddenly dip his head and take in about half of him with one swallow. His hips bucked once before Ivan's firm pushing hands stilled his hips. The very same moment Ivan had taken him he had also pressed a finger against his hole. He rubbed to get Alfred used to the feel and the boy shivered from the touch.
Alfred's mind spun. He didn't know if he should be focusing on that warm slick mouth around his dick or the finger probing his puckered ring of muscle. His mind definitely shot to that thick finger when it pressed inside. The oil slicked it up enough for it to slip inside him up to the knuckle with ease.
His breath caught and his eyes opened wide. God, this was happening. He was going to get fucked.
A panic set inside Alfred. He could feel it eating away at his organs, turning them to chilled mush before the ooze began seeping out of his skin. His skin prickled and he shivered violently before the trembles took over. His right hand came down and grabbed a hold of Ivan's hand between his legs, grasping it, but not pulling it away like he had wanted so the finger would slip out of him.
Ivan's mouth left his throbbing cock when Alfred's hands grasped his own currently working finger inside the boy. He looked up at Alfred whose gaze trembled down at him. When he pulled his finger out of him Alfred let out a choked sigh.
Ivan pulled his hand away from Alfred's grasp and instead clasp their fingers together. He leaned up, returned to eye-level with Alfred and kissed him. Alfred was already trying to calm his breathing, so his mouth had already been open as if inviting Ivan's tongue to join his own.
The Russian simply dominated the kiss, sucking against his mouth, pressing his large tongue inside Alfred to where he had to open his mouth as wide as he could to accommodate it. When Alfred's hands rose and unsurely pressed against Ivan's shoulder blades the older man had returned his hand back between Alfred's legs. This time he pressed two fingers inside him.
"Mmph!" Alfred tried to pull away from Ivan but his lips demanded him, and his other hand held onto the back of his head, keeping him close. It wasn't until he was nearly blue in the face that Ivan released his lips. Coughing helped settle the ache in his lungs but when he inhaled they burned all over again, and the weight pressing down on his chest did not help. Mr. Braginsky was a heavy man.
Alfred's breath hitched again when Ivan let go of the base of his skull and reached down to take a firm grip of his ass. He hoisted him up, pushing his hips further onto his own. It helped the fingers press deeper inside, as well as let his cock and balls rub up against Ivan's.
Daaaaaaaamn, Ivan was HUGE!
Alfred gulped. He wanted to look down, but all at once he didn't. He had already broken out in a cold sweat a long time ago. Just the thought that Ivan was already aroused to erection without any touch unnerved Alfred—like many other things.
The scissoring motion of those fingers would have brought Alfred to pain again hadn't Ivan began finding sensitive spots on his neck and chest to suckle. Alfred's eyes fluttered shut at the sensations, his hands holding tightly onto the man's muscular shoulders as he descended down his frame, kissing, licking, and—!
Alfred's eyes shot open when Ivan sunk his teeth into the junction of his neck and shoulder. That hurt! He let out a cry to let Ivan know, but it seemed to make him bite harder and harder until Alfred swore the man meant to eat him.
Alfred bit his lip and closed his eyes shut to suppress the tears. A muffled groan caught in his throat when he felt those teeth leave him. The warmth where the bite had been let Alfred know he was bleeding. He trembled all the more when he felt kisses press against the bleeding wound, even more so when a tongue began lapping at the seeping liquid.
Alfred hated feeling so weak, whimpering like some pathetic victim, but it sure as hell was what he felt like at the moment. When his eyes opened the tears blurred everything more than his crappy vision, but when they slipped down his cheeks and clarified his surroundings in those few seconds he could see Ivan looking at him, his head hovering over his.
Ivan leaned down and kissed him again, the faint coppery taste tinged in his saliva. Alfred still never understood why Ivan tolerated his lack of response. He didn't kiss back, he didn't touch him in return or willingly spread his legs.
"Mm!" Alfred inhaled a gasp through his nostrils being how his mouth was occupied. Those moving digits inside him brushed against something, something that made him buck. It felt strange and made Alfred more than nervous of just what it was.
He could feel Ivan's lips curl against his own when those pressing fingers rubbed with determination. Alfred bucked again, another muffled moan was swallowed by the Russian. The hand resting on his ass moved in between their bodies and squeezed Alfred's arousal again, his pelvic thrusts intensified thus creating a roll in both their hips.
The hum rumbling through Ivan's throat let Alfred know of his pleased state. But it was still strange to rub against Ivan's cock, and when Ivan wrapped his hand around both Alfred could feel the steady pulse of the other's organ. It wasn't as strange as he thought it would be, but it was just all so intimidating. The size of Ivan, the way his hips thrust and guided his own with confidant experience; Alfred was dealing with a well-endowed and long understanding lover. It was right that he was so self-conscious and under confident.
The rubbing, the squeezing, the thrusting, the hips rolling into his, the way those fingers moved inside him; it was all too much. Alfred swelled, and Ivan squeezed. When he came he choked out a cough, his entire body heated with embarrassment.
The rolls died gently and when Ivan stopped thrusting against him he rubbed Alfred's now limp dick evenly. Releasing it he rose his hand and caressed Alfred, he accidently touched his bruised cheek which made Alfred flinch back, and there sounded to be some apology muttered under breath, but it made Alfred open his eyes and looked up at Ivan.
When their eyes met Ivan kissed him once more. Just a simple chaste kiss to the temple before he pushed himself down. Alfred closed his eyes, his embarrassment heightened. He had just cum from Mr. Braginsky's ministrations and he was sick with himself.
On the bright side Ivan removed his fingers from out of Alfred and gave the boy time to recuperate. Alfred could feel him take up one of the bed sheets and wipe his mess from his body—what did it matter? After he was cleaned of his splattered cum that warm oil was poured over him again, Ivan's large hands lathered him and even coated his cock with a few strokes that stimulated Alfred slightly. His body still tingled with the aftermath of the orgasmic shock and so when Ivan began kissing his thighs he moaned, and when Ivan dipped his head further and drew his tongue up his stretched hole Alfred nearly jumped off of the bed.
Ivan's arms wrapped around his thighs and held him still, letting the weight of his upper body keep the boy's hips planted on the mattress as he stuck his tongue inside him, pushing past the loosened ring of muscle and tasting him from the inside. Alfred let out a shrill cry from the unexpected action, his hands came up next to his head and gripped at the sheets underneath him. His thighs shook, wanting to come together to clamp down but Ivan's arms kept them parted for him to access his most private regions easier.
Breath hitching into hiccups Alfred's eyes opened with wide shock. His lips parted but after his first initial cry no more sound erupted. He didn't know what to think of this sudden new sensation rolling through his body, but, God, Ivan knew exactly what he was doing.
Pants passed trembling lips as Alfred rolled his head and closed his eyes. The feel of Ivan pressing his tongue deeper into him was just . . . he couldn't explain it. It felt even more strange when the tongue slipped out of him only for Ivan to suck at him, his lips moving, rubbing against his hole. When his teeth lightly scrapped against him Alfred felt himself hardening. His eyes opened and he looked down, watching his traitor of a cock rise to the erotic stimulation.
His breath left him and his head fell back onto the mattress underneath when Ivan's tongue entered again. Alfred wasn't sure if he wanted to moan. He thought he felt something come out of his throat, but he wasn't entirely sure.
When Ivan loosened his hold on Alfred's thighs just slightly to pull and then push, urging him to roll into him, it wasn't long before Alfred's hips acted on their own accord and did just as Ivan wished. Ivan let him do this until Alfred was standing fully erect, throbbing, begging to be touched. Alfred couldn't believe he was so hard and so easily brought back to life through something like that.
After Ivan deemed Alfred thoroughly eaten out he pulled away, kissing back up his right thigh before leaving a tender kiss to the side of Alfred's kneecap. Alfred's hips bucked off the bed once more when Ivan pressed in three fingers this time. He didn't even give the American time to adjust to the added digit, just pressed in as deep as they would go.
"Ah!" Alfred gasped out, his eyes popping open wide, more so when Ivan added yet another finger right away and stretched him out. Alfred's hips threatened to leave the mattress again, but Ivan pressed against his thighs, keeping him as still as possible. The fingers didn't stay in him as long as the first two had and all too soon Alfred was coughing as they left him.
His body locked when Ivan rose over him again, connecting their hips and letting his arousal rub against him, against his abused hole. The outer ring of muscle had already been teased and pried enough, but now as Ivan rubbed his cock against it Alfred could feel his tender flesh take in the feel of Ivan's hot swollen cock. The feeling wasn't unpleasant, just new.
Of course Alfred jumped when the rubbing stopped and instead that thick cock turned and pressed its head against his entrance. Blurry eyes looked up, his body trembling as Ivan looked down at him. A too gentle tattooed hand reached up and rubbed Alfred's untouched cheek, wiping over a fallen tear before releasing the boy's face.
Ivan took up the bottle of oil again and rubbed a generous amount on his cock. Lathered it until it was dripping with lubrication. Alfred watched it shine off the dimly lit lighted lamps in the room. He even watched as Ivan cupped the monster and guided it back to Alfred's hips, between his spread legs.
Alfred watched it disappear from his sight as Ivan pressed down against him, chest to chest, abdomen to abdomen, and hip to hip. Alfred felt it unnecessary, but Ivan grabbed a handful of his golden hair on the base of his skull anyways to hold him still for the penetration.
The head of the cock slipping into him wasn't so bad, but the wide length that followed it brought tears to Alfred eyes, tears that could not be held back, and whimpers past his lips. Teeth bared and eyes clenched shut, Alfred tossed his head to the side, ignoring the feel of Ivan's tightening fingers in his hair to keep him from moving his head too much.
There were kisses and sucks to his cheek, his ear, his jaw, and neck in the same timing of Ivan's entry into him. They didn't help, not at all. But, oddly enough, the soft mutters and whispers in Russian seemed to calm Alfred to an extent.
Alfred forgot how to breathe when Ivan was fully settled inside him. The boy's lips opened wide to take in breath but his lungs refused to work properly. Before it became dangerous Ivan had turned his head, back to him. He took in his state for a moment and offered Alfred a releasing kiss.
Alfred gasped and inhaled through the gaps of their lips. When his chest heaved enough air to fill both organs Ivan pressed down harder and kissed his senses away. Both large hands moved to the sides of Alfred's face, holding him and guiding him in the kiss.
Alfred's arms rose, his hands skimming up a wide ribcage until they moved over a broad back and held onto the Russian like that. Once Alfred had stilled Ivan pressed the last of himself inside. The moment his testicles rubbed against Alfred's ass he pulled away, his hips dragging his length out for a moment only to press back inside to repeat the process.
The first thrusts were slow and drawn out, leaving Alfred to catch his breath. Ivan pulled his lips away from him and littered his neck with kisses and sucks. One of his hands reached down and took hold of a thigh, pulling it close against his hip and holding it high in place.
Alfred had never felt so stretched in his life. When Ivan had first entered him completely and sat there for a moment Alfred felt he'd burst. The feel of it inside him, of something that big . . . dear God.
Still, every time Ivan pressed inside it felt as if he was pressing deeper, easing clenched virginal anal muscles open to accept him easier. The more he thrust inside the closer he pressed. Each descending push inside and Ivan would loom closer, his hips just about jabbing into Alfred's, and the younger was forced to spread his legs wider so not to cause any discomfort, and in time his hips were raised from the bed and legs wrapped around Ivan's waist to keep the man from pounding his pelvic bone into dust.
"Uh, uh!" Alfred gasped. He could feel Ivan deepening his thrusts, could feel him applying strength. Alfred had once prided himself with powerful thrusts when he conducted sex but this man, dear God, Ivan was looking to paralyze his partners.
The oil made it a little difficult to hold onto Ivan. It worked well with him moving inside Alfred but not so much with the grip. Alfred's ankles unhooked from the slickness and his legs found no ground to hold onto and so his legs fell down and Ivan slipped out a little more than he had wanted. He was quick to catch the stumble and moved his hips down with Alfred as they landed back on the mattress. He hadn't even been thrown off rhythm.
Instead Ivan reached down with both hands and parted Alfred's thighs apart to give him better access. Alfred groaned at being spread so wide, it's not like he could do the splits so what was Ivan expecting? The pleased grunts leaving Ivan's mouth let Alfred know that he was enjoying the experience. Alfred frowned at that, he wanted to be a horrible lay, maybe then Ivan would grow bored of him and toss him away—let him go.
That, apparently, wasn't going to happen however. Ivan thrust in hard and struck that place inside Alfred that made him uncomfortable. But as Ivan hit it dead on with such velocity Alfred threw his head back, shouted out a loud moan and bucked against him. Ivan seemed to have wanted that reaction because he did it again, and once more Alfred rolled his hips into him.
He couldn't stop himself, it felt so damn good. Blue eyes rolled into his head and his lips parted, letting out all sorts of embarrassing sounds that he was too caught up in pleasure to hear or comprehend. With his head tilted back and neck arched Ivan returned, scrapping his teeth down the length of the tanned skin before he leaned down further and took in a nipple. Alfred bucked harder against Ivan and to his horror his hands flew into those sandy locks, pushing him closer.
When Alfred's hands became restrictive and wouldn't allow Ivan to pull away and give the other nipple his undivided attention he let go of Alfred's hips and grabbed both of those wrists and pulled them away from his hair. He smiled up at Alfred's lust-ridden facial features and keeping eye-contact with those dark sapphires as he flicked his tongue out at the other nub that was calling to him, perking in anticipation for his wet hot moistening mouth. Ivan still held his eyes when he pursed his lips and took in that awaiting nipple.
Alfred's eyes fluttered but did not shut. His lips parted, sucking in stuttering breaths. He watched Ivan the entire time, licking, nibbling, pulling at his nipple. The jolts of the experience shot right down to Alfred's groin, it was now hot and red against Ivan's abdominal muscles, rubbing in time with Ivan's thrusts.
Ivan smirked when he let go of the lavishly abused bud. Alfred had not taken his eyes off him since he began suckling him. Reaching up, Ivan pressed his right hand against Alfred's cheek, once again mindful of his discoloring bruise left by one of his men who would pay for tarnishing Alfred's beautiful features. When Ivan gently pulled, urging Alfred to lean forward, the boy did and when their lips met and Ivan kissed him he was delighted to feel the small minor movement of the boy's lips against his own.
This encouraged Ivan to thrust harder, his rolling hips deepening and pressing firmer against Alfred to get the younger to gasp, to moan, to open his mouth so that Ivan may have access. It worked. Alfred was moaning louder, his mouth opening wide to let all of Ivan inside. When his lips moved against the older's Ivan smiled and awarded the boy with a squeezing hand.
Alfred's eyes popped again. "AH!" That large hand of Ivan's took hold of him just in time for the Russian's cock to jab against that savory place inside him. It felt amazing after the initial discomfort and now his hips rolled into Ivan's wanting more, silently pleading he press deeper and harder.
Ivan must have been really good at reading bodily pleas and the mood in another because he picked up the pace, grasping Alfred's hips, rising them again and shoving Alfred's back into the mattress. Alfred choked at the new position but with the help of gravity, Ivan's cock penetrated deeper and much faster and harder . . . just like Alfred secretly wanted.
It was Alfred spreading his legs wider, it was Alfred tossing his head to and fro in pure bliss, and it was the American crying out words he never thought he'd shout out — especially not in a dubious situation like this.
"Yes, yes, AH! Yes!" Alfred may have been too far gone to comprehend his cries of enjoyment but Ivan was not. He continually pressed in just the right way to get Alfred to keep saying such encouraging words. "Oh! Ah! Mr. Braginsky! Ivan, yes. Please, harder!"
Ivan paused after hearing his name pass out of Alfred's lips in such a way. In his pause Alfred's shaking head halted, his eyes opened and he looked up at Ivan with a confused and hazy gaze. He gasped when the Russian dropped his hips, allowing himself to slip out of him.
Alfred opened his lips, perhaps to whine at the loss of fulfilment. He felt utterly empty and gapping. His legs remained spread in hopes to encourage the older man to return and fill him again.
It wasn't long before Alfred's shameful wish came true. Instead of Ivan leaning down to cover him again his hands reached down and took hold of Alfred's waist. Twisting him he flipped Alfred around onto his belly and from their his hands slid down to his hips, pulling at them until his manhood nudged his cheeks apart and found his entrance to press inside again.
Alfred moaned, his eyes fluttering closed again. He hummed his pleasure when Ivan pressed closer, his chest rubbing against Alfred's back and his arms wrapping around him. Alfred's own arms reached up, wrapping around Ivan's neck, there he held onto him as he thrust into him.
When Alfred turned his head the feel of Ivan's breath cascaded over his lips and he inhaled every exhale. His hands wrapped around that thick rough neck reached up, tangled digits into his soft hair and pressed him down, their lips connected and Ivan's thrusts hardened.
Ivan leaned over Alfred's shoulder, one of his hands pressed against his collarbone to get the boy to twist more toward him. When Alfred was angled toward him enough Ivan let go of his collarbone and instead pressed his hand against the American's jaw, holding him against him as he sucked against his lips and snuck his tongue past his teeth. When Alfred pressed against him on his own, Ivan's hand moved down and began tugging at his nipple, pinching, pulling and rubbing.
Alfred moaned into Ivan's mouth, his hips grinding against Ivan's behind him. The feeling of Ivan's tongue inside his mouth when his moan vibrated out was interesting, especially when the thicker muscle arched up, rubbing against the back of Alfred's top teeth just to feel the vibrations of the sound. Alfred felt Ivan shiver behind him and when he leaned more into him Alfred felt himself fall flat onto the mattress, his legs parted with Ivan's knee to give him room to ram into him.
When Alfred pressed back against Ivan the older thrust back harder, in so rubbing Alfred's cock against the mattress and sheets underneath. Alfred moaned, his mouth opening wide and saliva dripping to stain the nice sheets beneath them. Never in his life had he ever thought about being stretched there or how shamelessly incredible it could feel.
So what if Alfred could barely breathe with Ivan's weight pressed down on top of him, the mind-numbing pleasure was already taking his breath away, and those moans slipping past his lips on their own accord made it harder for him to even attempt to take in a breath. He wanted it this way, with Ivan so close, because he felt that if Ivan leaned away and just fucked him with his hips in hand he'd feel like some cheap whore or useless animal. No, Ivan never left him, instead he pressed closer and closer, his thrusts already beginning to ache Alfred's hips.
Alfred's jaw was grasped again, turned and lips descended on his own. It was sloppy, something to be embarrassed about if Alfred was in the right set of mind. But he wasn't, instead his hands pulled at strands of hair, his hips pressed back into that penetrating cock and insides squeezed down on it, attempting to keep it inside him, attempting to sink it further inside. Alfred kissed back, he didn't remember when he began doing this but Ivan was one hell of a kisser and he couldn't stop his lips from seeking the skill.
One of Alfred's hands slipped out of Ivan's hair and rested on his shoulder just as soon as a powerful thrust knocked into him. Alfred sighed out a moan, his head turning, cheek pressing into the sheets underneath. Ivan reached up and pressed against his hand, holding it against his shoulder, and with that arm so close Alfred felt the large build of the Russian's muscles. He had no doubt that Ivan could crunch him in half if he wanted to.
All of this thinking made Alfred wonder if Ivan could indeed go faster and painstakingly harder. So Alfred's fingers gripped onto what they could, skin and hair, and he leaned his head back against Ivan's jaw, giving the Russian a reason to lean over his neck to seek another kiss. Alfred gave it to him, it was a softer kiss, but when his lips left Alfred's eyes took in Ivan's features, he looked worked, a light sweat already coating his skin, but he looked extremely well-paced. His lips had parted slightly to breathe in and out timed pants and his eyes were closed, probably to take in the feel of everything.
"Harder," Alfred breathed out. His vision seemed to have cleared in that moment. How well he could see Ivan either meant the Russian was that close to him or that sex possibly gave him his vision back—whichever it was, Alfred was looking at Ivan with wide darkened eyes that didn't want to be denied. "Ivan." The sound of his name turned the older male toward Alfred and their eyes met. "Ivan," Alfred said again, a moan tumbling out of his throat a moment after.
Alfred caught that smile and closed his eyes when Ivan leaned in close again only to feel a kiss just behind his ear. "Pozzhe," Alfred heard Ivan say. He didn't know what the word meant but Ivan did not oblige to his wishes, instead he kept his pace and slipped a hand down his body, between the sheets to . . .
"Oh!" Alfred gasped, his face reddening when Ivan grasped him, squeezed good and hard. His hips rose and now he was on his knees with his chin digging into the sheets. Alfred could feel kisses littering his shoulder blades and neck and when Ivan began going faster his heart raced because if he didn't let him go then he'd— "Ah, ah, AH!" Alfred's vision went white for a good five seconds after coming undone.
Ivan continued stroking him even as he shot his essence onto his hand and the sheets below. Alfred moaned at those roaming fingers, especially the ones touching the tip, rubbing around the slit as he orgasmed. When he had nothing more to give Ivan surprised Alfred by squeezing him hard one last time and bucking into him, burying himself deep and finishing inside him.
Alfred went rigid at the feel. It was hot and spreading. Alfred had already felt Ivan's girth was enough to make him feel overwhelmingly stretched but the essence shooting out of the older was unexpectedly more so. Alfred swore he felt his very stomach stretch to accommodate the substance, but that could just be his mind playing frightening tricks on him. Though he did know for a fact that Ivan had gripped his hips, held them up as he emptied himself inside him, as if he didn't want any part of him slipping out.
They stayed that way for a while. Alfred had already caught his breath and so just laid there, still, listening to the sound of Ivan's own breathing as it ragged out of him and the tell-tale signs of the Russian's sweat dripping down from him and onto Alfred's back and neck.
Alfred gulped when he felt Ivan thrust inside him. He had thought he was done. That one round seemed drawn out to Alfred, but he wasn't entirely sure seeing that his state of mind had been hazed.
But Ivan pulled out after that. Entirely the Russian pulled away from Alfred and when the American turned his head he watched Ivan stand, walk over to a wardrobe dresser and pull out a robe. Alfred furrowed his brow in confusion while he watched Ivan slip on the dark piece of clothing on, even tying the sash around his waist.
That was it? Ivan didn't look so much as fazed from what just happened aside from the slight out of breath he was suffering from. But of course the Russian seemed to want to fix that from the counter of drinks off to the side of the room where he poured himself some strong drink and gulped the entire cup down.
Alfred's never felt so used in his life. Bootycall; that's exactly what he felt like. Whatever, not important—it's not like Ivan took his virginity that night or anything!
Well, maybe it had worked, maybe Alfred was such a horrible lay he'd be released and Ivan would never mess with him again. Alfred thought about this when he attempted to sit up only to hiss at how roughly his hips shifted together, his bones crying out in agony to him. Perhaps when Alfred was "released" he'd be shot and dumped somewhere. Frankly, he hadn't cared in that moment, his shame tormented him inside and all he wanted to do was curl up and die.
A heated glare to the back was what Ivan received from Alfred that soon turned downward, his eyes falling to his abused body and all of the grime coating it. Alfred wanted to cry, he really did. He not only felt shamefully empty but internally conflicted over what had happened.
In honesty, that was the best goddamn sex Alfred's ever had.
"There's a bathing room to your right. Feel free to use it. There's a set of clothing in there for you. You may leave when you wish."
Alfred looked over toward Ivan who had turned toward him, his empty cup full again. When Ivan inhaled the other drink he turned around once more and began pouring himself another. The American frowned, God, it was like he was trying to drink to forget this ever happened. The bastard.
Ivan didn't even help Alfred over to the bathroom. No, he completely ignored his groaning, protesting body that struggled just to stand upright and make it to the room. In the shower is where Alfred felt the full-blown feeling of self-worthlessness.
He was a good person, did his job obediently, got decent grades, and respected everyone. So, why? Why did this happen to him? What'd he do wrong to tick off the wrong vibe?
He washed slowly, the water never went cold no matter how long he stayed in the shower. When he reached in between his legs he winced, his fingers rubbed at his asshole. With grimace he traced the stretched ring of muscle. God, he hoped that healed. He could easily slip three fingers into him right now.
Pulling his hand away Alfred about gagged at the sight of Ivan's cum on his fingers. He quickly washed it away and without care for his ache between his legs, quickly scrubbed his hole, dipping in slightly just to cleanse out the bastard's orgasm. Alfred didn't leave the shower until all of that shit was gone, nothing more dripping out of him.
Even when Alfred dried himself off and put on the clothing offered he felt he still smelled like him. Everything was too rich, too goddamn expensive for his taste. Alfred scrunched his nose at it all.
When he left the bathroom Ivan was waiting for him. He was already cleaned himself, dressed and primed. In his hand was Alfred's glasses. He held them out to the boy to signal for him to come and get them.
Alfred frowned. The distance between them wasn't that far, but with Alfred's current state just walking that far would prove tedious. But Ivan wouldn't move and so, with a huff of breath, Alfred walked over to the man the best he could without showing him how hurt he was.
Snatching the frames out of his hand Alfred turned and put them back on. He didn't even turn back to Ivan to thank him or anything. He didn't have anything to thank him for after all.
"I want to go home." That was all Alfred said. He tried to sound off in a tone that left no room for question, but his voice cracked near the end. Damn jittery emotions.
"Da, I will take you," came Ivan's reply.
And Mr. Braginsky did. The ride home was silent and Alfred didn't give a damn if he was sitting in a freaking limo. He sat his distance from Ivan, refusing to look at him.
When they stopped and Alfred recognized his dorms he made to open the door. Before his hand even reached the handle the driver had already opened it for him. Alfred frowned up at the curtesy gesture of the man and made to exit quickly.
A large hand grabbing his elbow halted him. It pulled him back inside and onto Ivan's lap. Lips descended on his own and the other hand rubbed his inner thigh, a little too close to his manhood.
Teeth pulled at his lips and Alfred's surprised gasp left his mouth open just enough for a familiar tongue to press inside. The kiss was as long as Ivan wanted it. When he pulled away he smiled at Alfred and rose the hand grasping his arm toward his face, tattooed ring-laden knuckles caressed Alfred's beautiful face.
"You are free next week on Sunday, da? I will pick you up then. Be ready for me, moi podsolnechnik."
That was it. Alfred was released and he stumbled out of the limo. His eyes wide when the dark entourage drove off out of sight. He didn't know how long he stood there on the sidewalk leading back to the dorms but he wouldn't be surprised if it was for a good couple of hours.
How he made it back to his dorm was beyond him. His roommate had morning classes and they were gone by the time he got inside. The sun was just poking its head into the sky and when Alfred looked over at his digital clock his eyes widened. Well, he'd been kept up all night.
The sudden weariness overwhelmed the American student and he slumped over to his bed. He collapsed and was about ready to cry himself to sleep when his phone went off. He poked his head up and looked at the cell on the desk. He completely forgot he had left it there before classes the previous night. Was a good thing too or else it'd end up lost forever along with his pack, hoodie, jeans, and favorite pair of Nikes. Ah, shit! His books!
With a groaning sigh, Alfred reached over and took up his phone. Taking a quick glance at the caller ID he decided on whether or not to answer. His heart skipped a beat at the number. On his own he answered the call and placed his phone next to his ear.
"Yeah?" He swallowed hard to keep his heart calm.
"Hey . . . Alfred."
God, it was so good to hear her voice. Alfred just melted at the sound, a smile brightening his grim features. He pushed himself to sit up on his bed only to hiss at the pain in his backside, an awful reminder of his current circumstance now.
His ex, Lien, she had called him just a few days ago wanting to get together for a cup of coffee. Alfred had been busy at work and hadn't answered it and so she left her number for him to respond. He hadn't gotten the chance due to cramming some behind studies he should have been caught up with. So, finally, she called him again.
"I've been thinking," she began in that accented voice of hers. Alfred smiled at the sound. He very much liked her Vietnamese speech. "I miss you, Alfred."
The American's heart skipped a beat. He sat up straighter, his sweating hand rubbing down on his pants. He looked down at them when he noticed the feel far from the usual rougher texture of his jeans—oh, that's right.
"How we ended it before wasn't right," she continued. "And I . . . I would like for us to get back together."
Alfred smiled big and wide. His ex, the one he felt he could love and probably bring home to mama, wanted him back. This was the best day of his life! This—
Wait.
No.
Shit.
A frown pulled down all of Alfred's happy features and the dull throb in his ass served as a reminder of just where his life had to be. He would have been fine had Ivan just kicked him out without a care, but he said . . . next Sunday . . . that he'd . . . oh God.
No, Alfred would not let Lien deal with that. It wasn't right, more so it wasn't safe. Hell, if he decided to see her again with Ivan constantly pulling him off and having his little "dinner fucks" why, he might hurt her—or his family. No, Alfred had to save them from that. And if he had to sacrifice his own happiness just so that they could be safe then he would. He was the hero after all, and heroes made . . . sacrifices.
"Actually," Alfred began after a pause. His frown ate at his breaking heart. "I'm . . . seeing someone else."
The silence on the other end already hurt Alfred more than his own rejecting words. "Oh." Lien sounded disappointed and just as sad as Alfred. God, if only she knew. "That's too bad."
Alfred choked out a sob that he muffled quickly so to not let her hear, but at least she couldn't see the tears falling down his face. "Yeah . . . it is, isn't it?"