not edited, many of mistakes there are XD
"Ah, shit." Mikhail grumbled to himself as the morning breeze of St Petersburg brushed over his skin. The nights he actually stayed at home always led to this exact same morning in the summer.
It was revitalizing to wake up and watch the hustle and bustle of the city in the morning. The canals outside his apartment framed by their cobblestone streets, tourists up bright and early hoping to get a full day of sight seeing in, locals walking by and taking the city's beauty for granted.
The brick buildings, the colored domes of cathedrals with blues and whites, reds and golds – it was all something that emblazoned him with pride, Russia. He lived for this; and he'd probably die for it, too.
He wasn't cursing that though, he was cursing this evolved feeling of satisfaction, an unknown need had been sated, he didn't know what it was, maybe he was a lonely bastard after all, maybe he craved warmth more than he thought and he really was just a soft cock, but the feeling as he stood out on his balcony this time was definitely different. It was so cliché that even he was cringing at himself.
It was different because there was a dead to the world blonde sprawled in a mess of colorful limbs across the bed through the open doors behind him, breathing softly and mumbling in Japanese every so often. Akihito had been completely oblivious to Mikhail laying next to him for hours and tracing the scars on his skin with his fingers.
He'd looked over the marks he'd left on Akihito's body the night before, next to the scars, over the top of them, and he'd wanted to do it all over again.
But he'd restrained himself in favor for his usual routine, because in the end he'd really fucking let loose, knocked Akihito's challenge for six and fucked him face down against the mattress, made him keen, made him beg and plea, and filled every shred of the Russian's sadistic fibers with pleasure. He'd whispered sweet nothings in Akihito's ear, hurt and soothed him simultaneously as Mikhail drove his existence into Akihito's body.
Satisfaction on his part, on both their parts didn't even begin to cover it, they'd taken a shower and fallen back into bed in a tangle, and he was pretty sure Akihito was asleep before that adorable head had even hit the damn pillow. Mikhail knew for sure he'd be sore this morning; letting him sleep was the best thing to do.
Despite all that though, he wanted more of it, now.
He wanted Akihito to wake up.
Akihito woke to blaring light in his eyes, aches in his body and the feeling of being hit by a train.
Confusion and panic welled inside of him as he took in the unfamiliar surroundings, plush navy curtains gathered with silken ties revealed a set of open French doors and the blue sky scattered with wispy clouds beyond, carved wooden furniture right out of a 16th century palace, crisp white walls and a ceiling with golden scrollwork across its vaulted surface.
He felt like he'd woken up back in time, and was in some rich palace and this was definitely the master suite. What the actual fuck.
But as he slowed down and scanned the room again, registered the scattered clothing and pains in particular places, it all sunk back in to become reality, and that's when his eyes found the broad skin of Mikhail's bare back standing on the balcony looking over the city by himself.
Last night, the memory was enough to bring heat to his cheeks. He'd been utterly lost with Mikhail's touch, with all his previous partners it'd been more like a rush to finish for that one small burst of satisfaction to convince yourself of each other's affection. Last night though, Mikhail had blown all his past experiences out the window, call it cheesy, call it whatever the hell you want, but he never thought it was possible to feel that good. So much so that he'd even gone back for more.
He'd got more than he bargained for the second time around though, and that was a distracting thought he could do without right now.
Instead he chose to focus on this morning. He watched as a small gust tussled Mikhail's wavy blonde hair, rippled the pair of sweat pants that hung low around his hips, and found its way inside to send a chill through him as Akihito looked on. Next to him on the nightstand a napkin fluttered at the corner, flicking up to flash a glimpse of a leaden face just like the one that was looking over the city right now.
For some reason Akihito knew Mikhail did this often, stood out there on that balcony to look at St Petersburg as the sun rose, alone as the world woke up and carried on without a clue as to who was watching them. Controlling them, Akihito thought in the back of his head.
Alone. Akihito thought again. That was the only word that could come to mind, like when you named a piece of art, it was instinctual the label that you put on it. If the image before him right now was on canvas - and he had every intention to make it so - then that's what he'd call it. Those broad shoulders and that tall frame stood a beacon in the skyline framed by those doors, rough hands braced on the marble railing, a posture that stood solitary, and a resounding strength emanated that proved Mikhail was who he said he was.
Everything he needed to know was in the picture he could see right now, the instinct honed body with taut skin and carved muscle, the effortless stance, the real life battle scars on his back, and most of all that gold ring on Mikhail's finger that caught his eye in the morning sun.
Ugh. He still didn't want to think about it. All he wanted to do was carry on the way they were, the way they had been, and have some fun while it lasted. He'd left all his troubles in Japan with his parents and their stupid boss, Asami whatever his name was and fuck. Should he tell Mikhail about that?
Nah. It's not like he'd ever meet his parents to find out anyway. His luck was shit, but not that shit.
With more procrastinating non-choices made, he pushed it all away yet again as he decided to interrupt Mikhail's balcony musings.
"Oi! I'm hungry!" he barked to snap Mikhail out of it, because he was getting lonely too in his fucking massive bed.
The Russian turned with a smirk, "And good morning to you too, I've said it before, but you sleep like a damn corpse." In quick fluid strides Mikhail was at the bed, crawling down on it with a childish smile and trouble writ on his face.
"I can feed you."
"I'm not that sort of hungry." Akihito flushed, he was no good at that sort of thing.
"Fuck. You're too appealing right now." The Russian sighed.
"Hah?"
"Maybe I'm the one who's hungry." Just like so many times before, Mikhail stripped all his control as bare as his skin currently was with his mere presence, the way Mikhail's hands caged him in either side of his head, the way his body loomed above, both a shield and a trap at the same time. His eyes deep and dark roved up and down, taking in Akihito's morning wood that set the hunger in those ashen eyes alight. "Sorry… I told myself I'd hold back, but it seems I can't."
Kisses like fire trailed down Akihito's body then, and the only thing he really registered after Misha pulled his briefs down and exposed him to the cool morning air was pleasure. Oh, he heard himself gasping as he screwed his eyes shut and threw his head back against the pillows, he felt the crescents his nails dug into his palms even as he clung to the sheets, he felt the heat of Mikhail's tongue on him, working around the head and dipping into his slit before taking him all into that soft mouth.
Mikhail was relentless, giving him wave after wave of stimulation that had him sobbing because it felt so fucking good and he didn't know what to do, all he actually managed was to shudder and quake with quivering legs as he felt himself slipping.
"I'm gonna… ngh. Mishaa." And he was whining in Japanese without knowing, desperate for more, but at the same time not wanting to finish in the Russian's mouth.
A gentle tug on his hand reassuring him it was fine was all the notice he got as Mikhail swallowed him back once more, laving his tongue in firm circles around his length before hollowing his cheeks out with the most mind shattering drag of those skilled lips back up to the tip.
"Oh, g-god." The words spilled from his own mouth even as he spilled into Mikhail's with uncontrolled thrusts of his hips, the orgasm ripped through him and had his body rigid against the sheets as the Russian milked him, swallowing back each wave of his pleasure like it was his own, sucking every last ounce of feeling from him, until he was nothing but a boneless panting mess with Mikhail falling back on the bed beside him to look at his handy work.
"Hmm, not bad." Was the husky comment, the heat of Mikhail's skin on his arm roused him, bringing him back around to a blown pair of grey eyes searching his face, looking into him and prodding at all his vulnerabilities, it wasn't enough to feel naked in front of him, it was as if everything was laid bare, as if Misha could tell everything just from looking at him, and there was nothing he could hide even if he wanted to. Goosebumps raised his skin not because of the breeze that whispered through the still open doors, he wasn't cold; he was burning.
He willed himself to look elsewhere, to rip his eyes away from the ones captivating him, and appreciated the up close view of Mikhail's body in the morning light, and hot fucking damn, it was even better than last night. From here he could see the scars close up, see how raised and patterned they were across Mikhail's taut skin. Those definitely looked like they were from something bad, and he wondered how many times this man had come close to dying.
The feel of his muscles under his fingers was imprinted in his mind, just as the feel of a pencil or brush in his grip was, and as if seeking out the memory, he found himself reaching out again to start at Mikhail's collarbones. Akihito marveled as his tattooed hand traced down to that thick chest, his Japanese Chrysanthemum hovered over where Misha's heart was; the crimson intense and shocking against Mikhail's pale skin, and that sort of imagery was way too intimidating for him to even fucking contemplate right now.
Choosing to move on; Akihito then trailed down between the pectoral muscles and along each line of his ribs, he felt the firm ridges of each of his abdominals, and followed the line of his pelvic muscles until he hit Mikhail's waist band and oh…
"Keep going." Mikhail rasped, because there was another firm muscle bulging from his pants that needed attention, Akihito could see a dark grey patch of moisture stand out vividly compared to the light grey of Mikhail's sweats, his eyes shot up to the Russian's face and that's when he finally saw how heavy Mikhail was breathing, the steady inhale and exhale of hot breath as the older man fought to restrain himself.
Two gentle fingers tugged at his wrist lightly, bringing his hand flat against the rise in Mikhail's pants. "Touch me too, Akihito." Came the prompt.
With butterflies in his throat and his heart pounding in his ears, he slipped his fingers under the waistband and into the stickiness of Misha's briefs to wrap his hand around the sizeable length and squeeze gently.
It throbbed hot and heavy in his grasp, grew firmer with his touch as he felt the pulse in the thick vein on its underside. The Russian closed his eyes with a small roll of his hips into Akihito's palm and groaned quietly, and he made Mikhail make that noise, he was the one effecting him like this and that was much more fucking distressing than knowing Mikhail's occupation, much more terrifying than the fact that he let all his control into the hands of another – because it meant that this was real, and it wasn't just some summer fling while he was away on his trip, if Mikhail was willing to let go of control too, then he might need to think things through a little more and thinking was never his damn forte.
"Keep going just like that." The whisper traveled up his spine as if he was the one being touched and put a dampener on his wet tissue thoughts, that's right, thinking wasn't his strength, so he wouldn't do that, he'd cross any bridges when he fucking came to them.
So he tightened his grip and pulled the soft skin of Mikhail's dick down as he did so, slowly right down to the base before the glide right back up to the tip. The groan he got in response was louder now, and somehow he wanted to see Mikhail lose it too, he wanted to know how far he could pull this person under with him.
With his eyes glued to Mikhail's face and drinking in every reaction to his action, taking in the way those long blonde lashes clenched his eyes shut, listening to every sighed breath as Akihito kept his hand moving, kept slicking the Russian's length with his own precome.
It all made him want to do more, and soon he was pulling, twisting, and tugging in desperation for more of Mikhail's reactions, that strong jaw clenched with a hissed intake of breath, a calloused hand shot out to grip onto his forearm, the nails dug in, and Mikhail's hips started to roll to match his movements.
Anticipation made him go faster, his strokes surer, his breath held until Mikhail hummed deep and low in the back of his throat as he came in hot spurts into Akihito's hand, only then did the Russian's grip on his forearm slacked and his jaw unclench, and they both released their pent up breath together as the Russian rode it out with weak thrusts of his hips.
"Mm, not a bad way to get the day started if you ask me." Misha smiled lazily and opened one eye in a wink to look at him as Akihito pulled out from the mess he'd made of Mikhail's pants.
Now that it was over he couldn't believe it, a breathless Mikhail in the sheets had him flushing with embarrassment because he'd really been the one to fucking do that.
The grin split Mikhail's face further into something with notes of trouble and mischief, revealing perfect teeth and curling the corners of his eyes. "Oooh, you're cute in the mornings! Like a blushing bride."
"Fuck off, bride my ass. Oi! I'm not cute, don't cling, what are you doing?!" Akihito sputtered indignities and fought come covered hand and all as Mikhail began touching him all over, kissing his neck and tugging him closer, that was until Akihito worked out that Misha was really just being clingy in the most adorable selfish, child like way, and he couldn't help cracking up, because Mikhail was meant to be this tough gangster and right now he was anything but that.
"You're the cute one." he shot out without thinking, but Mikhail just groaned and flopped his head against Akihito's chest as he settled on top of him. "You're heavy…"
"Shut up. I can't help it. I'm new at this and you make me do all this sappy shit, it's your fault." And was Mikhail Arbatov actually pouting?
Akihito forgot all his aches and pains as he lost it with laughter, while Mikhail kept thinking to himself about it in his own quiet.
As he calmed, more bursts of wind swept through the doors to freshen their morning, and Akihito thought he'd probably never known relaxation such as this even with his sticky hand and sore ass.
"You know, I was nervous as shit to tell you last night." Came the eventual breaking of their silence, Mikhail didn't bother to shift, didn't bother to look at him, just admitted it like he was saying that grass was green, or better yet that blood was red.
"You seemed cool as a damn cucumber to me."
"That's cos I am cool."
"You're a goofball."
Mikhail looked at him with flat eyes then "That's a low blow coming from a napkin stalker."
"Hey! You…." Akihito tried to object as he sat up.
"Got nothing to say to that one do ya?" came the tease with a poke of Mikhail's tongue.
He gave up and fell back against the mattress. "No."
"Haha, I win."
More time passed, light caresses of skin and the occasional kiss was all they shared as they both lay there in the peace of each other's company – and once again Akihito found himself thinking he was in way too deep, way too invested in something when this was only meant to the first stop on his travels.
"Why?" Akihito spat out after a time to break his chain of thought.
Fingers traced circles on his hipbone, up and around in a mindless pattern as Mikhail thought about his answer, "… Well, it's not like it's this little thing, and then when you told me what your pare-"
The harsh sound of a ringing cellphone split through the room, infringing the stillness and bringing them back to the real world. Akihito knew it wasn't his, that wasn't his ring tone, but Mikhail made no move to get up and answer.
"You can answer it, oi." Akihito prompted with a punch of that firm shoulder, noting a particularly big scar that spanned his deltoid and that one screamed near death to Akihito, another reminder about who Mikhail really was.
"Fine, alright. Don't hurt me, you brawler." Mikhail winked as he got up and found his still blaring phone.
"Shut up, it was a few fights!" Akihito managed to shout before the man left the room. "Like you can talk." He finished to himself.
"What do you want?" Mikhail snapped at the phone without checking who was calling. It had better be good or someone was going to die slowly and painfully as an example for everyone else. He'd already sent word out this morning that he wasn't to be disturbed and it wasn't even half an hour fucking later, those useless shits.
"That is no way to talk to your mother, Misha." Came the motherly scold from the other end.
That was, he'd sent work to everyone but his parents. "Oh, morning Ma!" he found himself smiling, because he had some gloating to do and maybe the pleasantly fresh ache in his groin had something to do with it – not with standing the mess, "You will never guess who has a boyfriend?" came his singsong.
"No, not Yuri!?" His Mom feigned a gasp as she mocked him.
"Tsk! Haha, you are so funny, you Old Bat." He flat lined back. It would have been fucking hilarious any other time.
"Seriously though?"
"Yup!"
"That young man must be stupid if he decided to stay with you." That undertone of genuine happiness for him was still there even though his mom continued to goad him, "But, I am glad for you, Misha. Don't fuck it up."
"You have so much faith in me, don't you. You're worse than the Old Man."
"He's much too soft on you, that's why. How did it happen? Is he with you? How did he take the business news? Oh never mind, you can tell me all about it when get there."
Now that rang actual alarm bells, and alarms bells didn't often go off in Mikhail's head. "Oi. What are you talking about?" he fired back.
"That's why I called, I just got off the plane at the airport. Your father has business here so we thought we'd take a short break and visit our only son. Aren't you lucky?!" her overly cheerful voice oozed sarcasm and was the tell tale sound of a parent giving their kid a hard time.
"Ma, no." It was too early in the morning, too early for Akihito, too early for them both. He'd just got done explaining to Akihito that he was a crime boss, he didn't need add his no nonsense mother to the mix, or his politician of a father who advised the president and used to command an upper echelon of the KGB back in the Soviet days.
If people thought Mikhail was scary, they had another thing coming because his old man could be fucking terrifying when he chose to be – Mikhail had learnt from the best.
"It's too late my boy, the driver is already going in your direction." And her tone was final.
"Uggh, whyyy?" he huffed as he hung up, he missed hearing his mother's laughter on the other end saying she would see him soon.
Mikhail turned around to head back to his room, squeezing the phone so hard his knuckles lost all color, telling Akihito about his line of work suddenly seemed like a walk in the fucking park compared to telling him that he'd be meeting his parents in less than an hour.
Yeah, we kissed and fucked and feelings happened, now meet my bat shit crazy family the day after it all occurred and try to hide the limp I gave you from fucking you too hard while you smile and laugh at my mom's lame jokes.
The thought of sending him home was thrown away before it even fully crossed his mind because he hadn't set up proper security measures yet, and because it wasn't a fucking option. He wanted to lounge around his house all day with his goddamn boy friend and parents or not that's what he was going to do.