The day had been full of unexpected things, Mikhail had gained the biggest advantage over the French he'd had in years, with all weapons under his distribution now and the local authorities in his pocket, it would make his international trade even more prolific, and that was always a good thing, because why stop at the border when he could go above and beyond? Ambition always kept him on his toes. The day he got complacent would be the day he died, and fuck that, he was going to live forever.
Then there was the occasional message from Akihito, telling him to 'go away, I'm concentrating.' Whenever Mikhail had time to ask what he was doing. The hellish part of him hoped that whatever Akihito was concentrating on had something to do with him, and if it wasn't then he'd just have to work until that's all Akihito could concentrate on.
His level of distraction purely at having Akihito in the same damn city had been unexpected too, so it was a nice surprise when he got word that Akihito had used his surname to make it passed the doorman at the club, another selfish and greedy way to tie Akihito to him, it was self-indulgent, but Mikhail couldn't bring himself to care at this point. All he could fucking care about was that it was their last night in Paris and he didn't know what tomorrow would bring them when it was time to go back, so tonight he was going to court the shit out of Akihito in hopes that he'd like Mikhail more than he liked France, enough to want to come back with him rather than look at the city with this out of control wanderlust that Mikhail couldn't help but want to defeat and banish into the snowy depths of icy Serbia.
That's what he had planned until more unexpected shit happened anyway, until sounds of commotion bloomed as he walked down the elegantly lit hall in the back corridors of the club, the sound turning crisp and clear as men opened the door before him, and when he stepped through, Mikhail didn't know whether to laugh, to shoot someone in the fucking head, or both.
There fucking goes his well thought out evening. He should have figured things would never go this smooth with someone like Akihito, but that's what made it so damn exciting.
He had to give it to them, they were outnumbered but holding their own, Yuri was hard to best even for Mikhail, his fists close and his movements practiced with not a shred of fear after many a bar fight just like this one, and many more fights for his life that weren't a touch on something like this.
Smiling and Yuri never usually went in the same scene either, not that it was really a smile, more like this contented smirk as his usually dull eyes shone with menace, that bastard was enjoying this, enjoying a fucking bar fight with Akihito at his back. It was oddly satisfying; Yuri wouldn't back just anyone in a fight, that much Mikhail knew.
Then, there was Akihito himself, and just like so many fucking times before, he managed to steal all reasonable train of thought.
Akihito who'd been this sometimes shy, but mostly wickedly outgoing travel partner, a man who came from a family of laws and high expectations; right in the thick of it all. He didn't belong here in this underworld cesspit, but the thing was, in this moment with zesty fire in his eyes and a wild speed to his nimble body; he looked like he'd been here all along.
If Mikhail thought he was breath taking before, it was inexplicable now, he should hate it, hate himself for being the reason Akihito was fighting with those fists he'd worked so hard to keep clean, he should feel the lowest of the low.
The monstrous part of himself couldn't help feeling like this was exactly how it should be, while the compulsive side of him snarled inside as he saw Akihito take a nasty jab in the ribs, it wasn't so much a feeling of wanting to wrap him in cotton wool as it was wanting to be the one by his side in a fight.
His plans for the night were definitely ruined now, so with the thought of protecting those precious fists in his immediate thoughts because he really should take the moral high ground this once; into the fray he went.
It ended as fast as it began after that, a few more last chance punches from all sides until the big bosses joined the skirmish, Akihito felt Mikhail at his side instantly after he got a nauseating hit in the ribs, and shit, Mikhail was fucking crazy. Only then did Akihito stop to think that maybe he'd fucked this up after all.
Mikhail's very presence quelled the conflict with his icy demeanor and cold brutality as he stilled everyone with the sheer size of his fists and calculating movements, not one action wasted, he didn't even need to draw his gun to put them in their place.
There was that look again, one that Akihito couldn't read, and it terrified him more than anything as everyone stood, weary in their respective states of caution. The pools of light on the walls played on Mikhail's eyes, emotionless and glassy, blank as Mikhail stared everyone down, he spared no glance for Akihito, and that was the most worrying thing of all.
His voice, crisp and sharp with authority rang out in Russian as he spoke to Yuri, and then Yuri looked at Akihito with that shadow of a smirk on his face and shrugged, before answering back in the language that Akihito had been trying so hard to grasp over the past few days.
If he thought he was getting somewhere with it, he was dead set fucking wrong, all that built up in him as Mikhail's curt conversation with Yuri continued was the legitimate fear of dismissal, all he could do as their talk played out was stand there as put together as he could manage, his blood still humming with energy and the pains of blows to his person now kicking in.
Now his heart was hammering out of pure nervousness, and with each beat he could feel the control slipping in between his trembling fingers, he'd given Mikhail too much, that much was clear by the sheer queasy thought that after a stunt like this Mikhail would call it quits. Why wouldn't he?
All he could do was stand there and fucking breathe, one calming breath after another as the room cleared out, Yuri gave him this clap on the shoulder as he left, and any other time Akihito would have taken that as reassuring.
Then, he was left with no one but an unreadable Mikhail. He'd rather get into another fight than face his impassive expression. In the tumult a few bar stools had been knocked over, a couple of drinks spilled on the rich wooden surface of the counter, that was all there was to mark the previous disturbance that played out only moments earlier.
There was no looking away from the void in those eyes as Mikhail approached, no way of moving as he drew close to tower over Akihito with all his fucking ridiculous poise that Akihito would never not fail to notice.
"Let's go." Mikhail murmured, he didn't even look back as he made his way to the stairs, down he went, just like Akihito's fucking heart as it sank into his stomach as he followed.
The ride back to their suite was so fucking silent Akihito thought he might throw up just to break the tension, but it was mercifully short, like the traffic knew to stay out of their way, the lights knew to be green because probably everyone in a block's radius could feel the strain.
Up the lift they went to the top floor, down the short hall to their rooms on the end, where the door shut behind him with a click that raised the hairs on his neck even though he was the one that closed it.
Mikhail didn't go far, he walked to the open space in front of the bed before turning, his gaze a little different now, simmering with something indecipherable. "Yuri told me what happened." Came the open-ended statement.
"I..." he started to say something, but before he got any more words in Mikhail was there in two smooth strides, caging him in against the door with this viscous hunger turned on full heat emanating from his entire person. For an artist his powers of observation had been fucking shit, now he could see the open obsession Mikhail had been hiding before, one Akihito understood perfectly. Mikhail fucking Arbatov was shaking, shaking as he took each of Akihito's hands in his, calloused thumbs running over top his knuckles with a tenderness that hurt more than any fight ever would. He was still thinking about Akihito first, even though Akihito had just caused a damn shit storm of trouble.
"I shouldn't like that you got into a fight for me," Mikhail rasped, his thumbs still playing over Akihito's knuckles. "But fuck me, Akihito, I can't help it."
Akihito sagged at the words as the heat melted the icy tension that'd been freezing his gut, the words falling out of his mouth as relief turned into annoyance at himself. "You dick, you fucking scared me." He countered to hide his moment of weakness.
All he got was a taken aback Russian who'd stepped back to look at him in question.
"I thought…." Even the thought of saying the rest made him feel sick, even through this whole exchange there'd been no alarm bells in his head that'd told him to run, and that should be fucking sign enough in itself that this was different.
Maybe he'd spoken too soon though, because as Mikhail stood framed by the French doors behind him with the lights of Paris twinkling in the night sky through the glass, he got serious again. "You think I'd break up with you for something like this?" Mikhail rumbled, "You think I'd let you go after you attached yourself to my name like you did? I don't think you know what it means that I let you in on this side, Akihito. Fuck, even I don't know."
Akihito's next question came out before he had time to think the implications over, and oh how he fucking wished he could take it back the moment he'd said it, blurted before he could think about what he was actually asking, about what the answer truly meant. "Does it mean that you trust me?" it hit them both like a slap, because it should have been obvious by now, even though it hadn't been long at all.
And that was the blow that made Mikhail himself break, growling under his breath as he closed the gap once more to press Akihito against the door with a hot mouth against his neck. "What do you think?"
This probably wasn't what Mikhail had planned for their last night here, but he honestly couldn't give two shits about plans anymore.
Like the answer to his question, Mikhail let him have the control, he let Akihito force him down onto the plush bed and straddle his hips, and oh holy fucking shit he'd seen a lot of exquisite things in his life, but this one might take the cake.
Here was this absolute monster of a man underneath him, midway between disheveled and naked, his chest heaving underneath the unbuttoned shirt, muscles taut with tension and want, eyes pure fucking restraint and hunger as his hands clutched at Akihito's jeans.
In his dwindling comprehensible thoughts Akihito realized that Mikhail had just as much control in all this as he did, and the satisfaction of that realization was the fire that stripped away the last of his inhibitions.
Mikhail's breath grew ragged, punctuated with frustrated curses and the desperate upward grind of his hips against Akihito's thighs as he sucked at Mikhail's neck, at his ears and chest, his fumbling hands blindly working at the rest of his shirt, his belt and finally his pants.
"Akihito." came the feral growl in his ear, "I swear if you're not naked in 2 fucking seconds, I am going to destroy you."
The threat was enough, and it was probably like 2.5 seconds after that he was straddling Mikhail naked, desperation and urgency pushing him to the wanton as he fingered himself open, whimpering when Mikhail's heavy-handed fingers dug into his cheeks to pull them apart.
He was hardly prepped enough, but as he sunk himself down onto Mikhail's dick he decided he liked this pain, because with it came this ragged fucking shudder of a groan from the depths of Mikhail's chest that said Akihito was making him lose it too.
There was this moment of falling as he looked into the lust-addled darkness of Mikhail's eyes, caught in the immeasurable storm of this man who'd made Akihito find the beauty in monochrome. It was Akihito who'd done this to him, forced him onto the white sheets and stripped off his clothes, made his breathing heavy and his jaw rigid with impatience. "Move, Akihito." Came the half command, half plea.
So Akihito moved, he started with a testing wriggle, driving them both so insanity until he was hips rolling back and forward without thought, fast and hard just the way he knew Mikhail liked it. They both fell to pieces, Akihito moaning as his fingers raked across Mikhail's chest, and Mikhail, urging him on, faster, more, harder.
It wasn't enough, and all Akihito could do was growl as near release teased him over and over with each desperate stroke of his own cock.
Mikhail took the cue though, seized the moment with perfect timing as he flipped them both with a rough snarl, "You drive me fucking crazy, you know that?"
And then Mikhail was driving his hips; slamming home to the spot that had Akihito coming in euphoric whimpers, because he didn't know what to do when he felt this fucking good.
"Watch me, Akihito." Mikhail prompted amidst the soul splitting bliss, and through this pleasure hazed vision he saw Mikhail, felt the lightning up his spine as Mikhail bore his hips down one last time and let himself go.
Those grey eyes scrunched shut as Mikhail bit at his bottom lip to keep his own moans smothered, his breathing utterly fucking wrecked and stuttered, a picture of vulnerability and defenselessness right here in this moment. Trust.
And fuck it all; this really was a damn sight better than anything else they could have done tonight.