"Alfred." Ivan's voice was cold, or, as cold as it should be, considering the situation. Surprise, arousal, a note of jealousy: black lace adorning evenly-tanned skin.
All or nothing, ride or die, Alfred supposed, as he traced a finger over his thigh, pausing briefly to tug at the lace at his hip.
"Yes, darling?" Alfred's voice was casual, and that just seemed to piss Ivan off even more.
"We're having company over in 20 minutes," Ivan said, practically growling through his teeth.
"Oh? Are we? Must have slipped my mind," Alfred grinned and rolled onto his stomach, "I guess I'll just change then." He gave a long, drawn-out, and overly dramatic sigh and Ivan, god bless him, didn't move a muscle.
"Yes. We have guests coming over, you should definitely change before they arrive." Ivan said. He was attempting to look very blasé, and was almost succeeding, with the only tell being a very small tremor in his fingers. Alfred sighed again, and propped up his head on one of his hands.
"God dammit, Ivan. Just fuck me already."
"We have guests—" Ivan gestured to the door, but was cut off by Alfred.
"Just. Fuck. Me. Already." Alfred was smiling, and Ivan couldn't help but return it.
"If you insist, darling."