Unbeta'd because I didn't want to pester my beta during the festive season.
Happy New Year! Hopefully will get back to all my other works in 2015
Grey Caresses:
"Here."
Akihito snapped back to his surroundings when he saw the white, bottom of a paper cup hover above his face. Mr Russia, no, Mikhail, offered it to him from where he stood beside Akihito's head, and Akihito took it in thanks.
From here, all Akihito could see was patches of blue, with ever changing quilt work of white vapors billowing across the sky, along with the looming figure of the man he'd drawn on a napkin outside a random café that very morning.
The world turned slowly, an azure tie-dye backdrop moving inch by inch behind the concrete centerpiece that was Mikhail. He was immobilized by that same sentiment he'd had on the plane last night as he looked down at the city - something special in St Petersburg.
That uneasy anticipation gripped him, his instincts told him to run, his pride told him to stand firm and fight this unknown feeling, he hated running, he'd been running from fights for too long, however this presence before him was too big to endure, but it was also the reason he was having this concoction of feelings in the first place.
What even was this? He didn't know this dude from a bar of soap.
Stupid fucking feelings. Piss off.
Despite all that, he couldn't take his eyes off him, he felt heat blemish his cheeks as the man stared back from his aerial vantage point.
"Take a picture, it'll last longer." Mikhail smirked at him, and Akihito took that moment to cover his face with the back of his other hand, because fuck it, he wouldn't mind taking a picture. That handsome bastard was making fun of him, and he was fucking powerless. Shame.
With his face covered, but his eyes open staring at the deep crimson on the back of his hand, he heard the grass chatter as Mikhail sat down next to him, close. Akihito groaned, this man with his suave leather jacket, flash Hummer, handsome face and eyes that told a million stories would be the actual death of him.
In answer, he got a throaty chuckle, that genuine kind given freely, as if laughing at his own little joke. It was a nice sound, the breeze rolling over his body was nice too, and the sweet smell of hazelnut and sugar that came with it.
Food. Sweet food. Akihito sat up and looked in the direction of the aroma.
Mikhail, who was sitting next to him now, was smirking as he held out a paper plate with something that looked descended from heaven on it. A rolled pancake sort of thing, thin and soft looking, sat on the plate with a plastic fork next to it. In the folds of this delicious looking food was a rich chocolate colored sauce, which had to be the source of that heaven sent smell.
The wind chose that exact moment to confirm his theory and blow another waft of sugary, hazel nutty goodness up his nose.
"Are you gonna stare at it, or are you gonna eat it?" Mikhail taunted, a grey twinkle in his eye and a laugh on his lips.
This was food they were talking about here, Akihito's stomach was famous, and he would never be embarrassed about food in front of anyone, not even this upper-class Russian. He took the paper plate.
"I don't know how much Russian fare you've had yet, but this is one of my favorites." Mikhail commented as his own plastic fork tore into the center of the goodness on his plate, more of the sauce oozed out, and Akihito's mouth might have been watering a little.
He managed to stave off shoving it all in his mouth in one go though, instead to ask "I haven't had any Russian food yet, thanks. What's it called?"
"Oh, nice, I'll take you through many Russian firsts then," Mikhail winked at him, "This is Blini. Oi, don't just stare, eat while it's warm." Akihito didn't need any further prompting.
Buying Akihito Blini from the local coffee stand was another one of Mikhail's good ideas for the day. He fucking wolfed that shit down, finished Mikhail's as well, and then he had to go and get the punk another plate. A tattooed fucking bottomless pit was what he was, one that made some pretty interesting noises when the first glob of hazelnut spread hit his tongue. Dude really liked food.
Mikhail would feed him Blini all day to hear a couple more of those noises, though.
They didn't exchange many words while eating, and they had their second coffee of the day as the sun moved higher overhead, marking the passage of time that Mikhail currently wasn't feeling the press of.
When they were both done, rubbish in a nearby bin, Akihito flopped back down on the grass, his wispy blonde hair entwining with green blades of grass in a striation of colors, like his eyes.
His tight black shirt pulled up with the motion as he sat back too, revealing a thin expanse of pastel skin at the hip, flawless and silken. He could see the V where his pelvic muscles dipped below his jeans, oh, Mikhail was tempted just to lean down and blow a big sloppy raspberry on that skin to see if he was ticklish, but…. Even for him that would be a little creepy. He didn't actually want to scare him off. No matter if he did, he knew his hotel and room number now.
Akihito was a little more relaxed with a full stomach though, and the Russian couldn't decide if he wanted to feed him more, or if he wanted him to starve. So Akihito laid there, his hazel eyes squinting whenever the sun burst through parted clouds to blind him, and Mikhail sat next to him with his hands back in the grass that was soft, but probably not as soft as the blonde hair of the person next to him, and they both let their food settle. If he were honest with himself; the Mafioso would admit that this right here, was probably one of the most fucking random things he'd ever done in his life. Sitting in front of a cathedral with a stranger (a cute one though) and just, sitting and not feeling once fucking ounce of unease.
Mikhail wasn't actually keeping track of the time, but it'd been about half an hour when the Japanese man next to him suddenly shot up from the ground to a sitting position. The Mafioso tensed, as was natural when someone moved that quickly, but relaxed again and watched as Akihito started rustling through his satchel to bring out a sketchbook and a pencil, he saw Akihito's eyes faze out in a different way to when he looked at the sky as he lay on his stomach with the book in front of him, his hand twitching over the stark white page in mock drawing, planning.
Then, a small hiss announced the first pencil line, and the next, and the next. Mikhail watched the tattoo on the back of Akihito's hand shift as the tendons flexed underneath his skin, he watched the way his other hand held the book down so gently, to keep the wind from flitting up the image he was currently working on.
Mikhail couldn't quite make sense of what he was seeing at first, it seemed to be simple doodling until the very sky he was sitting under started to take shape.
The delicate flicks of his wrist shaded soft gentle vapors through the center, light and open, a near open sky, white.
But then Akihito started working his pencil outwards, to the edges of the page, and things only got darker from there, his pencil pressed harder, the grey got thicker, more ominous; until in the end there was this harsh, slate storm gathering around this one pocket of soft auras in the center.
No, Mikhail couldn't tell if this ashen storm was closing in, or being pushed away by this…. Silver lining in the middle, because once again it all depended on one thing. The sun. When the sun shone on its makeshift home on this bit of paper, it turned that small haven in the middle into a blinding white light that completely overwhelmed the imposing overcast surrounding it.
Take that sun away though, put it behind a cloud and let your eyes adjust, and the grey reclaimed its rightful power over that small pocket of purity in the center.
What was the sun, and where could he find that pocket of tranquility in the middle, maybe he couldn't, maybe he was the shadow on the outside.
Mikhail was still busy questioning himself when Akihito sighed, dropped his pencil and slapped a blood colored hand right in the middle of his work, where that clear patch of sky was. And fuck, he wasn't blind to that sort of imagery, a chrysanthemum - Japan's emblem – took its place in the middle and made itself the high light of the image, a crisp contrast from the white and leaden shades surrounding it.
Only he must have noticed though, because the smaller blonde let out another nervous laugh, "Sorry, just felt like I had to get that one off my chest right then for some reason." That shy smile and unsure tone had the Russian snapping out of his dumbfounded state and his world came off the page and went back to normal. That was fucking weird.
Now though, time to have some fun!
"You done being all artsy fartsy for a bit then?" he threw in a hair ruffle, maybe to see how soft those blonde locks were, but definitely for the way Akihito started to sputter another honest apology.
"Naaah, don't mind it." Mikhail got up, and Akihito followed after he'd packed his things. "Now lets actually go into the cathedral and look instead of sitting outside, huh?" he suggested.
Mikhail pushed him along before he could raise another question, crowding him with his chest and getting close not for the last time that day to raise that rose tint on his cheeks.
The smaller blonde got the picture that the Russian in fact didn't mind at all, and they set out towards the entrance of the cathedral next to each other.
Okay, this guy was definitely playing with him, Akihito concluded as the day went on, through the cathedral he would stare at an expansive wall with its intricate art only to feel a hot breath on his neck and a question asking if he liked it, then for the man to step back, chuckle and move onto the next feature by himself.
The Japanese couldn't actually comprehend what was going on, like, yesterday he got on a plane to Russia, the location that he picked only because it was the first flight out.
He thought he'd just get a coffee on the first morning, see some things half assed while he staved off jet lag, plan the rest of his Russian itinerary, go back to the hotel and hopefully fall into a normal sleep schedule so he could hit St Petersburg with everything he had the day after.
He managed the coffee part, and then this happened. He drew a dude on a napkin, the napkin flew away, said dude picked up the napkin, mocked him and then insisted on showing him around, all the while making mock passes at him and laughing whenever he felt the heat rush to his cheeks.
Akihito didn't know how to deal with someone like this; someone with such overwhelming confidence, an aura that made him the fucking centerpiece instead of the historical art on the walls.
Akihito was a candle with his little flame, outshone and melting under the suns heated rays.
He'd have to come back by himself to appreciate the cathedral to its full spectrum he decided as they left, it was hard to concentrate with someone like Mikhail in the same vicinity.
They walked the streets instead of taking the Hummer anywhere else, Mikhail asked questions that Akihito answered, things about his art studies and things he especially wanted to see while in Russia, since Akihito didn't have an itinerary yet he couldn't answer those ones.
Nothing personal came up, which was good, because Akihito didn't really have anything personal to share that was good.
Yeah, you know, I used to brawl and I have a horrible temper and I hated everything and everyone when I was younger, my parents are hardly worthy of that title and me being here is just a way to rid themselves of a problem.
That about summed him up pretty good, he didn't even share that sort of dismal shit with Kou and Takato, let alone this guy.
He couldn't bring himself to ask Mikhail questions, he was to… anxious to find out just how much above his league he was, that would just be fucking depressing, because he noticed how people looked at him in the street, some people with awe, some with trepidation, which was no surprise given his charisma, and some with open longing because yeah, this guy was sex walking…. on long muscled legs in jeans that hugged his sculpted ass in all the right places. Akihito was turning into a perv.
And here he was, with a shirt he'd fallen asleep in that was a little too small, black jeans and casual shoes next to this fucking guy that was the embodiment of a Greek god.
The brief touches that left lingering heat and goose bumps up his spine were starting to come more often too - more bold - especially that one time Mikhail squeezed his ass in front of an art exhibit at a gallery they so happened to be standing right at the front of – meaning everyone behind them saw exactly what fucking happened.
Akihito would call it sexual harassment it if wasn't so blatantly obvious that Mikhail was just playing, he was embarrassed sure, but for some reason it never chartered into creepy territory, he had a feeling the man would stop if it got to that.
Plus, he'd be lying through his teeth if he said the touches weren't nice, more than nice, expertly placed; the perfect amount of pressure and the best place, every time. His warm brush of air on his neck, a tickle on his hip, a firm hand on his back. The guy knew exactly what he was doing, of course.
They were on their way out of the gallery where the butt touch occurred, when a large incoming group of tourists with cameras around their necks and fanny packs about their waists took up the entrance space, forcing Akihito back into Mikhail's chest and oh, the collision made Mr Russia's cologne fan out and he smelt so good, sandalwood mixed with his natural musk was such a heady combination, an aphrodisiac that made his head spin.
A large pair of hands found their place atop his shoulders, kneading until they caressed their way down his arms, rough callouses scratched his tattooed skin on the way to his wrists. He had goose bumps all over again.
"Watch out." Mikhail chuckled behind him as the hands dropped away, his chest was still cradling Akihito's shoulder blades though, a perfect fit standing by that door, even though the people crowding it were gone.
"Chop chop!" Mikhaill actually smacked his ass this time, eliciting an audible slap and ripping Akihito almost painfully back to reality, and then he was speaking before thinking as he usually fucking did.
"If you want to touch my dick just fucking do it." The smaller blonde sassed out, unabashed, because sarcasm was his best weapon and he could give as good as he got, he prided himself on that at least.
"Oh?" came the heated words as he turned, and even though the color gray wasn't capable of a warm hue, Akihito could see the fire start and he was proven wrong; those gray eyes could express anything.
He was pushed against the white wall next to the door, the cold surface sinking through his shirt and dousing him in acute awareness. Everyone was looking at the art thank god, and not at the spectacle in the corner.
A thick leg planted itself in between his, and the muscled thigh had Akihito's heels coming off the ground as it lifted him partially off the ground by his crotch.
He was close, so close, he caged Akihito in with one forearm on the wall above his head and the other palm flat against the wall next to his face.
The breath left his lungs, sucked away by the near heat of Mikhail's chest, this close he could see the defined lines of his neck that dipped below his collared shirt with a few buttons popped at the top. The smooth stretch of skin down of his chest with muscled power and definition was staring him in the face as Mikhail moved closer.
He felt his adam's apple roll up and then back down his throat as he swallowed, he dared look up into those grey eyes, and that was a mistake. There was no playfulness there now, just all encompassing want, power, possession. He shuddered against the wall. Fuck.
Mr Russia was going to fucking kiss him! His mind raged from fight to flight, when in his gut; he didn't want to do either of those things. Another group of tourists walked through the door next to them, chattering away between themselves and those lips moved closer still, it took an eternity until he felt hot breath hover over his mouth.
"You should be careful what you wish for." That thick accent whispered, lips brushing against his with the motion, and great, now he had a thing for accents too. Even though it was probably just Mikhail's, his low, rasped accent.
Gone, he was fucking gone. The little candle moved too close to the sun and was now a puddle of wax on the floor.
Suddenly though, all too suddenly, the heat vanished and Mikhail stepped back, transformed back into the playful charmer he was with a smirk tugging at his lip, leaving Akihito bereft against the wall. He struggled to catch his breath and cool down, and he could feel Mikhail's eyes all over him, because he knew he must look totally spaced out right now. Mikhail 1: Akihito 0.
Mikhail surveyed his handiwork, and he was pretty chuffed with the result, Akihito was out of breath with glazed eyes and an adorable pout on his lips that were so soft it was fucking criminal.
Of course he couldn't resist the challenge with what the cheeky little punk said, he would have loved to stay close, but Akihito still smelt like sugar and hazelnuts, totally edible, and Mikhail's self control had never been that good.
He wasn't touching him now to be mischievous, it was more like a gravitational pull; something he couldn't help, he still like the result every time he heard the smaller man's breath catch though, or the way he tried to brush it off as if he didn't like it. They both liked it.
That was enough teasing the both of them for one day though, it was reaching evening, and Mikhail still had plenty of work to do, Yuri had been texting him all day, that sour faced bastard.
"You coming, Akihito?" he called as he stepped towards the door, he relished the fact that the tattooed artist stepped away from the wall to follow him without a second thought, following the Mikhail depicted on the napkin, not the dark Mafioso that had a 9mm pistol in his jacket pocket.
"Don't do that." Akihito chided as they stepped onto the street, his chin raised and his arms crossed over his chest. So cute.
"You liked it." He shot back, and then promptly burst into laughter that drew all eyes on the street when Akihito snapped his mouth shut and blushed furiously.
"Shut uuup." Came the whine as they drew near the Hummer.
"You can try make me, if you want." He taunted as he got his keys out, the steel of his gun brushed his knuckles and the ring on his finger with a clink; a harsh reminder of who he actually was.
All he got to that was a groan when Akihito buried his face in his hands.
"Haha, alright, alright. I'll stop now, you're just too easy!" they got in the car.
"Well, you're just too.. too…"
"Handsome?!" he chirped back with a wink as the engine started, they both knew it was true.
Akihito just sighed, and then it turned into a full-blown yawn with his eyes scrunched shut and a tired stretch to go with it, he knew it was time to take him back to his hotel then.
He was a lot less fidgety on the drive back, he sat back in the seat with ease and kicked his legs out, nearly falling asleep as the car pulled up to the drop off bay at the front of the building.
"Hey, Akihito." He roused him awake with a jostle on his shoulder, watching his eyes flutter open and fix on him in awareness.
"Shit… sorry." Came the mumble. "Um.. thanks for today. I think." Akihito said as he gathered his satchel from the foot well of the car.
"Tomorrow too." Mikhail decided on the spot. Yuri could suck a genital he found unpleasant, meaning dick. Mikhail hadn't taken a break in a while.
"Wha?" blonde hair swished as it turned to face him, a scarred hand that told stories Mikhail wanted to know gripped the center console. Akihito hadn't asked him anything, and Mikhail didn't ask enough, tomorrow would do.
"Tomorrow too, meet me at the same coffee shop. You said you didn't know what you were going to see here, right? I'll show you." He offered, he didn't say it to rouse a reaction this time.
"But… don't you have work to do? I'm sure your busy." Now he was shifting in his seat again, his eyes wide in disbelief. Mikhail didn't like that.
"I'm on break." He was his own boss, he could fucking take a break if he wanted, or he'd just get more shit done during the nights.
"Can I think about it?" came the tentative question, a shy hand scratched the back of Akihito's neck, and Mikhail watched the dragons scales on his arm ripple with the movement, he still very much wanted to find out where that dragon's head was, even more so now.
He wasn't a complete ass though, Mikhail knew he was overbearing at times, "No pressure." He smiled when Akihito gave him a relieved grin.
"I actually am going to kiss you now though, Akihito." Mikhail really did want to see him tomorrow; a kiss would seal the deal, surely.
He ignored the flush this time as he leant over the center console, raised his hand to flutter along a soft jaw that thankfully didn't pull back, and listened to Akihito's breath hitch as their lips touched.
It started off as a peck, because he really didn't want Akihito to freak out, he would have felt like an absolute dick then, but then the Japanese sighed into his mouth and that was his cue to press his lips firmer, and hold that jaw a little more in his hand. The thrum of the young man's pulse under his fingers matched his own; he didn't even notice when his own heart started racing, but shit, it left him breathless too.
With a quick swipe on his bottom lip with his tongue for good measure, he pulled back just enough to look him in the eye, meeting utterly confused irises that were desperately trying to figure him out. Yeah, even he could admit this situation was fucking odd, but he'd said it before; Mikhail liked odd.
"See you tomorrow, I hope."