#ahlfschfjdl

Indulgence. Something Sokol never allowed himself. They never made love, just fought or fucked. Sokol either breached or bent him over something like he had something to prove, anything to stroke an ego bruised from years of denial. It had been so obvious Sokol swung that way. Taste of metal or some bitter depravity held between the skin of his teeth, it had been purely physical and that’s what drew him in in the first place. Scarred brow, sharp nose, eyes rimmed with shadows, Miller looked like he knew a good time and Sokol had been too ready to get down to rock n’ roll. Enjoyed the risk and reward of it, the heady exhilaration as he swiped his mute coworker’s cassette tape and the violent debauchery that followed in the communal bathroom. 

And yet a change of pace's enough to declaw him. Stripped away coarse hide to show vulnerability within. Let him be the gentle, adoring boyfriend for once. Broken words and pet names spliced between moans, Sokol relishes the slow drag of friction shared between them, rapture rippling from root to tip. Now, there’s no hard-edged envy in his eyes. Just drinks in the way Miller takes him in so prettily, pliant as he meets every thrust, dimpled smile gently pulling him into a loving haze. God, he's actually in love with him. Brushes a tender hand across his cheek, small bit of affection offered as a reprieve. 

“ So tight...поиметь... Squeeze... ” There’s no shame in admitting what he likes now. Voice dripping with sin as he slanted over him, a tempestuous wave breaking onto a shore. Nothing but the hitch in his breath betrays his undoing as he covertly edged his way to his own release. Dick move, perhaps, but why disturb the water when he still had the clarity to savour Miller like this? Always playing the long game, baiting the enemy out to make the first move just so he can retaliate. And with measured, herculean restraint, Sokol spills inside him soundlessly. Rides out what remained of it without so much as batting an eyelash but hips stutter from the sheer intensity. Tries to mask his languishing state with a blistering, half-bitten smile but of course. Miller fucking knows the scratch in the record, can see his moment of weakness. Can sense it. 

Barely comes to the surface for air and he’s yanked underwater again -- Sokol bites back a clipped moan as Miller bodily flips them over, and since when was he like that? Some monster’s taken over him, straddling his hips, relentlessly grinding down against him, sharp edge of his jaw tipped to the light. It’s a good look on him. Sokol scoots back against the headboard, forces himself up into a sitting position -- and nearly has an aneurysm looking at the come dribbling out of him between his legs. Fuck. He’s getting hard again.