For Timebird84, who wanted an extension of "Just Between Us." This fic takes place sometime between the events of Mazadaran and when Erik meets Christine. You don't have to have read "Just Between Us" to understand this, and in fact, this fic doesn't really fit with that canon anyway.
Pharoga, hard M.
Sweet
Nadir Khan was drunk.
At least, he assumed that was what he could call this feeling. He had not allowed a taste of alcohol beyond his lips in a year. Not because he was a particularly religious man, no. He had not practiced anything even resembling piety since he'd been a teenager. However, when one had friends such as his, one needed to remain alert.
About an hour ago, Nadir Khan had decided that he didn't want to be alert anymore than he wanted to remain conscious. He had wrapped himself in his coat, hat, and scarf so that only his eyes were visible and taken a bus to a liquor store at a different part of town. Once there, he grabbed the first bottle that looked appetizing to his unrefined tastes, paid with cash, and scuffled back to his apartment.
Now, he had placed himself in front of the fire, his outwear discarded onto the floor because who cares, and he had been drinking straight from the bottle for a solid half an hour. His body was pleasantly heavy, draped across the rug as he was, and his lips were emitting a tiny bit of tingliness.
Okay, so Nadir Khan thought he was drunk. Most likely, he was only tipsy. But one thing was for certain: he was still depressed.
He raised his head enough to take another four swallows straight from the bottle, wiped his mouth with his shirt, and stared up at the dark ceiling.
He heard the rap of hard knuckles on the front door. He knew that knock.
Nadir thought he could muster up a "go away," but the thought never made it to his mouth. Instead, he simply waited, and the person in the hall let himself in. The door closed behind the man who entered his home uninvited, and Nadir caught sight of long, polished black shoes making their way over to him.
"Go away." There, he had managed after all.
The shoes stopped near his legs, and one lifted to prod at Nadir's calve. "You missed the concert this evening," said a smooth, velvet voice. "I came to see if you were dead. I would not want to miss the occasion."
"Sorry to disappoint."
The man was silent in response. In fact, he stood there for so long without replying that Nadir turned his head to squint up at him. Erik stared down at him from the top of the long length of his body, eyes containing much more emotion than his nonchalant voice had betrayed. His lips, however, were pressed in a thin line of disapproval.
Nadir slid his eyes back to the ceiling. "I don't want company tonight, Erik. Especially judgmental company."
"You have been drinking."
"I think that's obvious." Nadir raised his head and took a long swig. Then, he eyed the bottle; about a quarter had been drunk.
Erik crouched on the balls of his feet. "Tequila Rose, Daroga? The least you could have done was drink something with more dignity attached to it."
"Ah, no, I think it has just the right amount." To prove his point, Nadir tilted the bottle to drink again.
But Erik wrapped long fingers around the lip of the bottle, intending to remove it from his grasp. Nadir tightened his grip, and the two men grabbled for dominance.
"Shove off, Erik!" Nadir snapped, rising to one elbow to better wrestle back his booze.
The pink liquid within sloshed, dousing his shirt with stickiness. He yelped and jerked the bottle away, which only resulted in more strawberry cream-flavored tequila drowning the front of his pants.
Erik had leaned back to avoid getting messy. "Gods, Daroga, you smell sickingly sweet, like you have submerged yourself in melted ice cream." He swiped the bottle and set it far out of Nadir's reach.
Nadir leveled a glare – or at least, he attempted. His vision was starting to blur around the edges. "You've got until the count of five to remove yourself from my apartment, Erik, or so help me…"
He left his threat unspoken. Truth was, he had little ability to threaten his companion. Erik was faster than him, stronger than him, and often quicker-witted. Their four years spent in Mazadaran, at the base of the mountains, with little more than political intrigue to entertain Erik, had only proven all of these qualities to Nadir.
After the attempt on Erik's life, after they had both fled to Paris, Nadir had actually been rather surprised at the other man's begrudging acceptance of Nadir's offer of friendship. He had helped Erik build his musical empire within the opera house, a venture that had taken most of the past half a decade. How long had he known his masked acquaintance? Almost twelve years now? Which made ten since—
He shook his head against the thoughts that had led him to drink in the first place. His shirt clung unpleasantly to his skin.
What was he supposed to be doing? Counting?
More than five seconds had passed. Erik was still bent beside him, his eyes full of what was likely judgment. Sometimes Nadir envied his ability to hide most of his expressions from view. No doubt Nadir's own face was a mess of anger and guilt and despair.
Among other things.
Erik stood, and Nadir saw he had swiped the bottle and taken it with him. "Give that back!" he demanded as Erik headed toward the small kitchen.
Nadir heard the metallic splashing of liquid into the sink a moment later. His beloved means of escape was heading down the drain. He rolled over, pushed himself to his knees, and got his feet under him before his head began to swim. The room was tilting, his legs suddenly jelly.
A wiry arm tucked around his back, all corded muscle; a bony shoulder thrust under his own arm, supporting him before he fell. Nadir tried to wrench away, but Erik held fast, muttering "Idiot" under his breath.
"I heard that," Nadir grunted, trying to find a steady place on which to focus.
"You were supposed to," Erik replied. "Luckily, you did not drink enough to do yourself lasting harm. Your tolerance must be nonexistent."
"Let go."
In response, Erik began to tug him toward the single bedroom. "You need to get cleaned up before you pass out."
"I need you to go away." Despite his words, Nadir allowed himself to be maneuvered down the short hallway. At this point, passing out sounded blissful. He wanted to forget this day, this night, had ever happened. He wanted to forget those events of years ago. He simply wanted to forget.
He saw the bed and pitched himself in that direction, landing on his back with his legs hanging off the edge. It was close enough, and he dragged an arm over his eyes to cut out the harsh light in the room. "I'm off the floor – happy now?"
Silence returned to him. He could feel the other man standing motionless beside the bed. Then, softly, Erik asked, "What would she have said about this?"
She.
Nadir lunged off the bed, hurtling himself at Erik. Ten years since Reza had died – more than that since his wife had left this world. How dare Erik presume— how dare Erik seek to manipulate him in such a way by using the memory of her!
He connected with flesh and bone, his cheek slamming into the curve of a shoulder, his fists seeking contact with muscle but instead grabbing onto the black fabric encasing Erik's back. He had meant to hurt, to hit, but instead he found himself being enfolded by the younger man's arms. At once, he was reminded by the way he himself had cradled Reza as he watched Erik mercifully kill his son with a needle.
"Don't need your pity," he said, voice muffled against Erik's shoulder.
Erik's arms tightened, supporting him, holding him… almost. "How long has it been?"
"Ten years since he died." Oh, how it cost him to force those words from his throat. His mouth felt dry, coated as it was in the syrupy remains of the liquor.
"You have never reacted like this before," Erik said.
"You've never noticed," Nadir retorted.
Erik hummed low in his throat; Nadir felt the vibration beneath his cheek. He shifted backward a step, intending to relinquish his hold on Erik, but the other man held fast.
"How drunk are you, anyway?" Erik asked contemplatively.
Nadir shook his head, not a great move as it caused his vision to swim. "Not drunk enough." Erik allowed him to walk backward until his legs caught the side of the bed. "F-Forgive me, Erik. This is not me at my best. I simply wanted to forget, I wanted to be distracted, I wanted anything than sitting here remembering the events of all those years ago. If you would just go and leave me to my misery—"
The press of lips against his silenced him. Cold and unyielding, they sliced across his own as Erik began to press Nadir against the mattress. A knee came up to wedge between Nadir's thighs, causing pressure in places the Iranian had long since thought dormant. Long-fingered hands latched onto the top button of his shirt, and he was unbuttoned throat to naval before his alcohol-laden mind realized what was happening.
"E-Erik," he said, wrenching his mouth away. "What are you doing?"
Erik leaned in closer, and teeth scraped the tender skin below his ear. "Distracting you," he answered, voice a dulcet murmur that raced across his skin. Those teeth bit his earlobe, sharp and with a twinge of delicious pain.
Warmth spread through Nadir much like the booze had after the first few sips. His thoughts tumbled in his mind. He tried to sort them out, tried to grasp onto the last of his reason. This was Erik, this was his friend, this was the cold-hearted assassin who had once caused all of Mazadaran to tremble at the mention of him. And he was carving a path down Nadir's neck with teeth and lips, and all Nadir could do was tremble beneath him.
Erik's mask brushed his jaw as he moved further along Nadir's neck, reaching his collar bone. Nadir brought his hands up to touch what he could reach, but Erik batted his hands away, pressing his arms back down to the mattress. Nadir squirmed. It had been a long time since he had received any sort of… attention. The feel of another body against his caused him to shudder. He knew he was out of practice; he knew his muscles were now layered in softness around his middle, his tanned skin a stark contrast with Erik's paleness, black hair peppering his chest and spreading across his lower belly.
"Ow!" He hissed as wiry fingers found and twisted one of his nipples.
"You are thinking too much," Erik said, breath hot against Nadir's sternum. His fingertips smoothed over the offended nipple, then pinched again, this time more gently. A damp tongue settled over the other, and before he could stop it, a moan rose up within his throat.
"You don't… have to…" He threw back his head, eyes staring dizzily at the ceiling. The tequila was hitting him harder now, settling into his veins. His limbs felt heavy, his legs falling open around Erik's pressing knee.
"I never do anything I do not want to do," Erik said against his trembling skin. He ventured lower still, hands smoothing over the flesh he could reach while his mouth sucked and nipped across Nadir's abs. "Do you want me to stop, Daroga?" he asked, breath fanning just above Nadir's belt.
"Nnng." Nadir bit his bottom lip, arching into the touch that was barely skimming along the apex of his thighs. He wanted… he didn't know what he wanted except to be able to let go. He wanted to feel and not think, to be touched for the first time in a very long time, to ignore all the ways his life had gone wrong.
He drew back enough to look down at Erik, who hovered above his midsection, eyes aglow. "I… want to forget."
Perhaps he was taking advantage of Erik's own need for connection, of the circumstances surrounding this date that drove Erik to stick around tonight. Perhaps he was the one being taken advantage of in his inebriated state. But he didn't really care which way the pendulum swung, not at that moment, not with Erik's lithe fingers fanned across his ribs and Erik's breath upon his hip.
In response, Erik slithered up his body and quickly bound Nadir's eyes, blinding him to his next movements, which were to yank Nadir's arms above his head and use his own shirt to secure his wrists to each other and then to the headboard. Nadir let out a squeak in semi-protest at the rough treatment; he tested the bonds and they held unsurprisingly tight.
"E-Erik?"
He felt Erik's weight shift off the bed. "Your safe word is macaron," came the dulcet murmur somewhere across the room.
"W-What?"
"You heard me."
Nadir's mind swirled with confusion and booze and a nervous expectancy that he could not quell. What came next were hands upon his trousers, unfastening his belt, tugging down his zipper; his pants were off and flung away before he could register that his legs were bare. His shoes and socks followed. He was laid bare to the room, but instead of shivering, he felt set aflame.
Erik's hands were upon him again, touching and pressing, nails biting into the tender flesh of his abdomen. Nadir was aware that he was already half-hard, but his member lay ignored across one of his thighs. He tried to shift to at least catch the tender skin upon a surface and give him a little friction, but Erik held fast, giving his attention back to Nadir's belly, laying kisses across the brown surface.
Finally, he felt breath across the tip of his cock, the hot wave caressing him as he swelled in size. His body thrummed as he clenched his muscles in sudden tension. He groaned against the bonds that held his wrists, wishing he could encourage that mouth closer. At one point, he felt the flick of a wet tongue against the underside, a tentative taste that sent gooseflesh racing across his skin.
His muddled brain was aware of long fingers dipping into hidden places. Firm hands cupped his backside, lifting him to an awaiting mouth that found purchase on one of his hipbones. He squirmed at the intimate, possessive claiming, the edges of fingertips barely skimming along the crease of his ass.
He groaned. He wanted more of that mouth against him, around him. He wanted almost anything.
The click of a cap opening, and a thick liquid poured liberally onto his shaft. The coolness of it made him gasp; the smooth sensation that followed made him roil his hips upward, seeking contact, any contact. Hands settled on his hips, sliding in the now slippery surface of his skin until they intersected at the apex of his thighs.
He sobbed, begging for a scrap. Erik gave that and more, dragging his palms together to encase Nadir's fully hardened member. A drag upward until the slick hands slipped off his sensitive tip, causing him to choke at the sensation. A drag downward, stretching his skin from the slit and giving free range to the tongue that followed, dipping into that tiny space, probing the circular head as though mapping the surface.
The hands continued down the length of his cock until they reached his hips once again. Down they traveled to cup his ass, spreading his cheeks to their now-slickened perusal. He bucked at the intrusion, inadvertently thrusting himself into a waiting mouth.
"Erik!" he gasped as heat engulfed him, as fingers probed. He could not tell where they traveled, if they were surrounding him or dipping within him, or simply pressing that most intimate spot. He tensed against the invasion.
Firm lips drew back. "Open to me, Daroga," hissed a whisper against the head of his cock.
Nadir whimpered. He had never succumbed like this to anyone; he had never allowed himself to be claimed. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes. He wanted relief, to simply be allowed to spend and then spiral into unconsciousness. Erik's teasing had strung him tightly like the string of a bow.
He knew he could say his safe word – that silly nonsense word that was yet another jab at his character. He knew he could end this now and let the alcohol take him under. But what would that mean come tomorrow?
The bed bent around him under Erik's weight as the man leaned over him. One of Erik's hands wrapped around the hard length of him, slowing pumping up and down. It was not enough pressure to push Nadir over the edge, but it was enough to cause sweat to sheen across his skin, to make him arch against the other man, seeking more.
He felt teeth scrape one of his nipples and then the other. One of Erik's thighs caught under his own. He could resist or allow himself to be spread wide. He felt Erik's own erection against his hip; the evidence of his friend's arousal made him shudder. A hot tongue lashed a brown nub, then trailed up his sternum to lick across Nadir's quivering lips.
"You taste like strawberry cream," Erik murmured sweetly, his hand continuing its languid pull on his cock. "Look at you – strung up, begging to be touched. You asked for this, did you not? You begged the ghost to help you forget. Let us not forget who began this little adventure."
Nadir shook his head. "You k-kissed me."
"Did I? I can stop, then, if that is what you wish." The fingers tightened on the base, making him throb in need. Slowly, they slid up to allow the head to rub against a rough palm.
Nadir thought he might go mad. He could say the word to end it all, but he doubted Erik would ever venture into this rabbit hole again. He had never even seen Erik show interest in anything intimate before, and he felt like he was being allowed a glimpse into the man beneath the misshapen flesh, the person who existed beyond the ghost.
He didn't want to stop.
Erik traced the bottom curve of Nadir's lip with his tongue. Nadir felt those lips curl in triumph as he dug his heels into the mattress and lifted his thighs, spreading himself beneath the other man, at last succumbing.
"Beautiful." Erik pressed the word from his lips to Nadir's, and Nadir gasped, the parting of his lips allowing a tongue to slide across his own. As he moaned, Erik caught his shoulders against the back of Nadir's thighs, spreading him wider and giving him no way to wiggle free. The one hand continued to glide up and down, but he felt its parallel slide its way slickly downward to return to between his legs, seeking. Fingers timed their excursion to nudge the little cleft of his ass in rhythm, so much so that he was too dazed to notice that one long digit had slipped inside until he heard Erik sigh with satisfaction.
He felt bent in half, bony shoulders keeping him draped open. He pulled at the bonds at his wrist, which held fast, but he used the leverage to tilt his hips toward Erik, trying to increase the tightness of the hand around him. A chuckle, dark and smoldering, sounded in his ear. The finger within him slid deeper, the pressure foreign but not… unwelcome. What an odd sensation, to be skewered in such a way.
He was given little time to adjust until he felt the press of another finger. He shook his head, but the digit did not relent until it had conjoined alongside the other. The pair scissored, stretching him open with a burn, he squirmed against the fingers.
Erik clucked. "Ah, you have not done this?"
"A-And you have?"
Erik did not even pause to consider lying. "Never." The pop of the cap again, and more lubrication began to pool into all of Nadir's crevasses. As much as he wanted to struggle, he could not bring himself to resist the slippering sensation of Erik's hands upon him. The two fingers returned, pressing in at once, but the hand that attacked his cock distracted him.
This time, neither hand relented. The fist encircling him assaulted his swollen flesh in a brutal rhythm. The two fingers delved inside him to the second knuckle, stretching, seeking to rub inside of him until his toes curled and he strained against his bonds in blossoming madness. He felt consumed from the inside out.
"Release for me, Daroga," the honeyed voice rasped in his ear.
The fingers within him paused, and a third slithered to join them. Nadir cried out, but the steady pressure, the continuous in and out, up and down, made the burning quickly ease. He found himself roiling his hips to join with the tempo, driving himself upon Erik's fingers in wanton abandon of his own pride. Erik's breath beat against his neck, and he felt the man shift his own hips to angle them against Nadir's thigh.
Nadir came with a sob, his release pouring in hot spurts across Erik's hand. He felt himself clench around Erik's unrelenting fingers. He could do nothing but ride out the waves that assailed him, his limbs trembling, until he finally sagged into the mattress.
Erik didn't move for quite some time, allowing Nadir to fully come down from his high. Even as tears began to pour from the corners of Nadir's bound eyes, Erik said nothing of it. Nadir wept until he had nothing left inside him.
Even though he could feel that the other man was still hard, he felt Erik slip free of him and pad to the bathroom. The sound of water running, and Erik returned with a warm, damp towel. He spent a while washing Nadir's limbs with long drags of the soft cloth. The soothing motions of the warm towel relaxed Nadir into the beginnings of sleep. He was barely aware of being washed between his legs, barely aware of his wrists being released and the feeling being rubbed back into his hands with tender strokes of cool fingers.
"Erik…" he tried to begin. Even though the binding had been removed from his eyes, his lids were too heavy to open.
"Hush, old man," was the reply.
Blankets were pulled to his chin. Perhaps caressing fingers smoothed the hair from his forehead or perhaps not. Nadir was asleep before he could sense anything more.
He awoke to the sounds of Parisians on the street. The heavy drapes across his window prevented sunlight from streaming across his bed, thank Allah. His head felt as though it had been split open with an axe, but he was also sore in more ways than one. It was a good kind of soreness, the type that remained after the events of last night. He felt stretched, like pulled taffy, his tension having dissipated.
He rolled over and found himself alone in the bedroom. A wave of disappointment hit him that Erik had left while he was passed out. He wasn't sure what to make of the disappearance, but he really shouldn't have expected the man to stick around.
A full glass of water stood on his bedside table, along with two aspirin. That brought a smile tugging at his lips, and he eased himself upright in bed so that he could down it all.
He also found a note written in Erik's sloping scrawl:
I have managers to haunt this morning. In the event that you worry, no, I have no regrets… except in your choice of drink. Next time, I will select wine for us both, yes?
– E.
Next time. Nadir's face felt heated by flame at the thought. A cold shower was in order, and then he had his own errands to run. He tossed back the blankets and swung his feet to the floor.
Next time. This anniversary always came around again, didn't it? But Nadir's steps as he walked to the bathroom felt lighter than they had yesterday.
Next time, he wouldn't be alone.