This one is tumblr user painfully-queer's request!
Pairing Order: RusAme
Rating: M
Prompt: Alfred is sick and has a nice dream
Alfred perked just slightly out of his daze upon hearing his bedroom door creak open, the young man vaguely able to make out an entering figure through the blurriness of his clouded vision. "Matt—?" He called softly, coughing out the name and straining his dried out throat. The person paused, but then walked closer, approaching Alfred's bedside as the sick man groaned and tugged the blankets up higher over his chin. "Mattie… Did you bring my oatmeal? I wanted… Extra brown sugar on it…"
The figure let up a small chuckle, and then made Alfred groan pathetically as it mounted the bed, leaning over his legs and slowly crawling between them. Alfred squinted warily, his head throbbing in the background as he did his best to focus on his visitor. "Ivan…?" he slowly spoke, able to tell only by the smile and the dragging ends of the scarf that had slipped off of one shoulder. "What are…?"
The sheets rustled as they whipped down his front, exposing his sweat-sticky body to the cold air and making him gasp and arch. "Iv-" he started again and then mewled in the back of his throat, his voice a husky rasp of confusion when Ivan's warm hand gripped him through his boxers. Alfred bit his lower lip, craning his neck up as he watched Ivan's face slowly lower down. "Wha–!"
Ivan's moist tongue dragged against the fabric of his boxers, his hand still present and gratuitously fondling Alfred's balls, making the blond yelp up struggling pants of pleasure. Alfred's body bowed and snapped in a jerky, twitchy manner, stuck in a cycle of wanting to both expand and shrink in response to the oral stimulation. Ivan seemed to chuckle, closing his lips atop the large bulge in Alfred's boxers, suckling him through the soft cotton and leaving a rather noticeable damp spot. "A-ah! Ivan—! Ffffuh–!"
Alfred shot his hand down and grabbed at Ivan's ashen hair, winding his fingers through his silky locks and gripping him firmly, refusing to let him escape until he was completely spent and satisfied. His eyes rolled back into his head and he arched one more time, letting out another lilting exclamation as he eagerly soiled his shorts, screwing his eyes shut but still loving the visual of Ivan's face pressed close to his release.
"Alfred!" an all-too-familiar voice scolded him angrily, Alfred slowly opening his eyes to the smell of sugar and oats. He frowned, groaning and rubbing at his eyes before looking to his agitated brother.
"Wh… Matt?" he frowned, sitting up somewhat so he could look down at himself, finding his lower body abandoned with nothing but a stain to show for his momentary bliss. "Where's Ivan?"
"Excuse me?" Matthew scowled, averting his eyes from his brother's boxers before setting his dinner down on the night stand. "Alfie, I'm the only one home right now. You're sick, remember? Ew, you didn't just have a wet fever dream about that guy, did you?"
To which Alfred had no excuse nor response, and was glad the fever already had made his cheeks as flushed as they possibly could get.
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