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Alfred sobers up the minute a manicured hand slips onto his shoulder.
His eyes are torn from his boyfriend to the girl at his side as she smiles, glossed lips curling upwards as she muffledly tells him how cute he is. The club feels warmer all of a sudden, the colored lights more blinding, and Alfred’s suddenly all too aware of a certain tightness around his neck, resting just beneath his Adam’s apple. He hopes for a moment that the hand will go away. It doesn’t. The mystery girl calls him cute again. Alfred laughs very awkwardly and turns back to Ivan, whose brows are furrowed.
“What does she want?” Ivan asks, too apathetically for Alfred’s liking, nodding to the girl who’s now latched herself fully onto Alfred’s arm as her friends giggle on their phones, and flash from their drunken photography. He can’t read Ivan’s expression.
“Um, it’s nothing. What were you uh, saying before?”
Ivan purses his lips, corners turned down as his eyebrows raise. “Really? Nothing? Because it looks like she wants you.”
“Oh my god, Ivan,” Alfred scoffs, rolling his eyes, “Shut up,” he laughs bashfully.
Ivan smiles now and sips his tall glass of vodka, eyes trained on Alfred. When he sets the glass down, his expression softens. “I mean, I don’t blame her.”
Alfred laughs again, still awkward, and tries to slip his arm out of the girl’s grip. As soon as he’s free, she leans further onto him. Phones keep flashing. Alfred’s fingers tighten around his beer bottle. It’s not even cold anymore. He tries to keep his eyes on Ivan, whose black sleeves fall just below his elbow, and his forearms look so muscular, and the way Ivan’s fingers are wrapped around his glass make Alfred want to throw himself all over him. But, the girl’s leaning her head on him now. Alfred’s eyes widen as he mouths a ‘help me,’ to Ivan who smiles again, and slowly rises from his stool, shaking his head.
“No, she’s cute. You should get to know her,” chides Ivan, “I’ll be over there. Find me after.” With a nod, he motions to the other side of the bar. Alfred’s entire expression falls. The only thing that could make him feel more uncomfortable would be Ivan’s absence.
“Wait—”
“You’ll be fine,” Ivan quips, and leans in close to Alfred’s ear, “You know who owns you.” he taps two fingers just above Alfred’s shirt collar, “Don’t let her see it.”
The blond’s entire face flushes, but before he can argue back, Ivan’s turned and disappeared into the bustling Friday night crowd. Alfred downs the rest of his beer and orders another one. Then, he adjusts the collar of his button up to sit higher on his neck so it covers his—
“Was that your friend?” asks the girl. Alfred holds in a groan. He turns to face her.
“Yeah. Well, he was. But he just ditched me, so… You know.”
“He’s cute too. But you’re cuter.” says the girl, slipping her hand now under his short sleeve to grip his bicep, “I’m Sakura. Who are you?”
“Alfred. Well, everyone just calls me Al.”
“Oh, okay,” giggles Sakura, “Do you go to NYU?”
“Yeah, how’d you guess?” Alfred asks, a grin spreading across his face.
“Well… It’s not really a guess. My friend Feli has a seminar with you. She thinks you’re cute. Do you even know her?” she asks with a laugh.
“Oh. no, I don’t. But uh, it’s a big class. That’s funny though. So are you in polsci too? Why have I never seen you?”
“I’m not smart enough for polsci!” Sakura snorts, head falling back as some of her drink spills to the side. “Ah! Crap.” She brings it up to her lips, plush and pink, and sips. Across the bar now, Alfred spots Ivan, violet eyes locked onto him. He feels his chest tighten. Ivan’s expecting a performance, and Alfred’s only been stalling.
He looks at Sakura again. She’s a pretty girl, flush across her cheeks, and bangs curled just above her wide eyes. Her top is low enough for Alfred to see her chest.
He hasn’t been with a girl since before Ivan. When he and Ivan were freshmen. They’re juniors now.
“No, I’m sure you’re smart. I mean, everyone at NYU is.” Alfred takes a generous swig of his beer and slips a hand onto Sakura’s waist, a thumb sliding under the hem of her top. She moves closer.
“Yeah, but like, not me. I’m in business. And it sucks.”
“I’ve heard. Someone pretty like you shouldn’t be in something so boring.” Alfred tilts his head, and watches Sakura’s face light up, and her eyes crinkle as she smiles.
“You think I’m pretty? You’re so cute. Did I say that already?” she laughs, sways, and spills more of her drink. She chugs the rest of it and sets it on the bartop.
She slides her arms over Alfred’s shoulders now, pulling herself closer to him. She looks up at him, doe eyed, unsure of how to move. Alfred knows that look, so he turns and searches for Ivan’s eyes to grant him permission, only to find them waiting expectantly. Alfred blinks, and finishes his beer. He feels a rush of warmth to his head, feels his entire body get lighter, and then his other hand falls around Sakura’s waist too. The other slides under her shirt completely, and Alfred’s the one who closes the gap.
Sakura’s lip gloss tastes sweet. It’s too sweet, but the bitter remnants of vodka from her drink cut right through it. Just like Ivan. Alfred tries to imagine mint gum and cigarettes, but Sakura’s taste, in all its sweetness, doesn’t hold a candle to Ivan’s. Her lips are soft like Ivan’s, but they don’t fit quite right. Her hands fist at Alfred’s hair, and he slides his hand further up her shirt to cup her chest. Sakura gasps, and then returns the favor, sliding both her hands under Alfred’s shirt and gripping his sides, palms warm against him, nails digging into his skin. She pulls away, lips wet, and falls against Alfred’s chest into a hug, saying something he can’t hear over the loud music. He looks for Ivan, and he’s nodding at Alfred– but he can’t look long, because Sakura’s kissing him again.
It’s lighter this time. She nibbles on Alfred’s lips and he smiles, because it’s cute. His hands fall to her hips, and they stay planted there lightly. Like he’s afraid to touch her more. After all, he’s only doing this for Ivan. It’s what’s fair.
He feels her hips move against his own. He grinds back, but there’s no familiar friction from Ivan’s dick, so it’s half-hearted. But Ivan’s watching him, so he grips her hip and pulls it against his as their kiss deepens. He feels one of her nails slipping into his shirt collar, and he nearly freezes, grabbing her arm and redirecting it to his back. Alfred knows that across the bar, Ivan’s probably laughing. But they only separate from the sound of girls laughing, and the flash of a camera. Suddenly, there’s a girl gripping Sakura by the arm, smiling, and pulling her back, and another girl on Alfred’s arm. That’s Feli, he assumes, because she’s asking him if he recognizes her. He says yes, as to not hurt her feelings.
“She’s so drunk! Sorry Alfred!”
“Qiuyan!” Sakura laughs, and jokingly pushes her, Qiuyan’s drink spilling onto both of them, but she laughs.
“Oh my god, come on. You’ve been making out with him like, all night!”
“Nooo,” protests Sakura, and she stumbles into her friend’s grip, but manages to wave at Alfred, face bright with laughter. “Bye, Alfred… I miss you! Bye!”
“Miss you too,” he laughs, waves, and waits until the girls are out of sight before he turns around to see Ivan smiling at him from across the bar. The grin that spreads across his own face surprises him, and when he looks back up, he’s confused.
Ivan’s disappeared now, across the bar. Hopefully he’s coming back to Alfred and– There’s another hand on his shoulder. He doesn’t even have a minute to gather himself. The hand is less delicate than Sakura’s. He turns to see a boy his age, except he’s taller. It’s strange– his hair is even lighter than Ivan’s, his skin even paler. Around his eyes is a dramatic amount of eyeliner. Alfred can see through the boy’s muscle tank that he’s much lankier than Ivan. This boy is attractive, but not quite Alfred’s type. Still, Alfred’s chest jumps. He searches for Ivan in the crowd but can’t find him.
“You here by yourself?” asks the boy, “Can I buy you a drink?”
Ivan wants a show, right? Alfred assumes his boyfriend is still watching him from wherever he is.
“What makes you think I’m even interested?” He smirks, and leans on the bar. The boy laughs.
“Just hoping. I’m Gil.”
“Alfred.”
“Alfred,” Gil lets the name roll off his tongue, stepping closer, and boxing Alfred in, “So… what are you drinking?
“Just get me your favorite beer.”
“Will do.”
When Gil leans over to talk to the bartender, he slides his hand under the back of Alfred’s shirt. His hand is cool against his hot skin. He still can’t find Ivan, but Alfred leans closer into Gil, who rubs circles on him as they wait. When the bartender finally slides two beers across the wooden counter, Gil waits for Alfred to sip it first. He nods slowly, and smiles so as not to offend. Looking at the label, it’s something foreign, and Alfred much prefers the lighter taste of his American beers. Regardless, Gil clinks their bottles together and in one swig, finishes half of his. Alfred only takes small sips.
“Good, right? Saw you drinking some bullshit American thing. Had to help out. You’re too cute to be drinking that crap.”
“Oh, really? That’s why you came over?”
“Yeah. Looks like you needed me,” Gil steps closer so that their chests are pressed together, and cups Alfred’s jaw with a smirk. “You wanna uhh, go to the bathroom?”
“Hmm, I don’t know. Why should I?” he links an arm over Gil’s shoulder and sets his beer down behind his back.
“I can uhh, give you a few reasons.” Gil smiles, finishes his drink, and then grips Alfred’s waist and pulls him even closer.
“Yeah?” challenges Alfred. He hopes Ivan’s watching, wherever he is.
“Yeah.”
And Gil closes the distance between them, gently holding Alfred’s jaw in place while he kisses him, deeply. Alfred rocks back against him, and when Gil’s tongue slips past his lips, Alfred doesn’t get a chance to return the favor because,
“What do you think you’re doing?”
There’s a large hand pushing Gil away from Alfred, who’s surprised to see Ivan so… angry? Wasn’t this his whole scheme…?
“The fuck?!” Exclaims Gil, “Who the fuck are you?”
“His boyfriend. Who are you?”
“Boyfriend?” Scoffs Gil, “He said he came here by himself. Nice fucking try.”
“Oh, did he? How funny.”
Alfred’s heart is pounding. He tries tugging at Ivan’s sleeve, but Ivan doesn’t turn around. He just steps back and puts a hand on his shoulder. For the second time tonight, Alfred can’t get a read on Ivan.
“Yeah. He did.” Gil steps up closer to Ivan, who doesn’t back away. “So why don’t you let us get back to it?”
Ivan laughs. “Get back to what? He doesn’t belong to you.” Before Alfred can protest, Ivan swiftly pulls the collar of his shirt down for Gil to see a thin, black, leather collar. Inscribed on the circular nameplate, is Sasha. Alfred flushes, and swats Ivan’s hand away to cover it. What if someone from his classes see? But Ivan pushes them away, and lets Gil get a good look.
“Ivan– Okay, hey, stop–”
“Holy shit. You’re fucking crazy!” exclaims Gil, “Okay! So fucking– Take it up with your little bitch, then! How was I supposed to know?”
For that, Ivan shoves him with two hands, calls him something obscene, and steers Alfred through the crowd with Gil yelling behind them. Alfred clasps both of his hands over the collar until they’re outside, and immediately dips out of Ivan’s hold when they make it into the cool air of the spring night. Alfred furiously buttons his shirt back up, and Ivan procures a cigarette from his pocket, waving Alfred to follow him to the subway. As they fall into step at each other's side, Ivan opens his mouth to say something, but Alfred cuts him off.
“What the fuck, Ivan? What was that about?!”
“Why were you fucking letting him touch you like that?”
“Like what?!” argues Alfred, “You’re the one who fucking ditched me and told me to fucking– flirt with that girl!”
“Right. I didn’t tell you to flirt with a man though, did I?”
“Why does it fucking– Why does it make a difference?! I like girls too! You know that!” He exclaims, “I thought I was fucking doing whatever weird fucking thing you wanted! Why does it fucking matter?”
Ivan stops walking, and Alfred turns around to face him. Ivan scoffs, and shakes his head, cigarette smoke pooling in between them.
“You can talk to as many girls as you want, Alfred. Girls can’t fuck you. That moron could’ve. I didn’t ask you to whore yourself out.”
“Oh my god,” Alfred laughs in disbelief, “You can’t be fucking serious. I– Why would I let him fuck me? Are you joking? Don’t fucking call me that!”
“Well, his tongue was down your throat. And by the way,” Ivan digs his fingers into Alfred’s collar and tugs it forward, “Bold of you to talk back to me when you’re wearing that.”
The blond’s mouth falls open, and he watches Ivan stride forward. Furiously, he unclasps it, and throws it at Ivan’s back. Ivan stops, and turns around.
“I never should’ve fucking agreed to wearing that bullshit. Fuck you, Ivan. Fuck off. You can’t talk to me like that.” And the blond storms past him. Ivan sighs, picks up the collar, and pockets it. For later.
The subway ride back up to their apartment in the Village is tense. Normally, they’d be drunk and happy, surrounded by tired interns and partygoers, and Alfred would be sitting on Ivan’s lap and they’d be laughing. This time, they just stand in silence.
The elevator ride is worse. Up seven floors, and it’s so busted that it takes forever. By the time Ivan’s unlocking their door, Alfred’s ready to just pass out on the couch. Except–
“Alfred,” Ivan says, too softly, as the door locks behind them, “Come here.”
He sounds gentler. Alfred turns around, hoping for an apology. He’s met with Ivan’s arms beckoning him in. Alfred obliges, and lets Ivan embrace him. After all, he loves how tight his boyfriend’s hugs are. Like Alfred’s the most precious thing in the world.
“I’m sorry,” offers Ivan, “I liked watching you. I just hate thinking about anyone else fucking you.”
Alfred chuckles, and buries his face into Ivan’s neck.
“It’s fine. It wouldn’t ever happen, anyway. I mean,” He pulls away, “You remember how long it took to convince me to let you do it. I’m not exactly open for more.”
“Good,” Ivan laughs, and reaches into his pocket to grip the collar, “because I’m going to fuck you now.”
“Wait,” Alfred’s breath hitches, “I’m so tired, can we… not… tonight… Oh.”
Ivan swiftly secures the collar around Alfred’s neck again, and he swallows deeply.
“Can we not what?” teases Ivan.
“Um. N- nothing. Nothing.”
“Right,” Ivan smiles, “I need you to help me. Get on your knees.”
Alfred nods, slowly, and sinks to the floor. He knows what Ivan wants. He moves to unbuckle his belt, but Ivan tuts at him.
“Your shirt, Sasha. Off.”
“Oh. Sorry. Yeah.” Alfred obliges, unbuttons it, and slides it off.
“Your manners?”
Alfred swallows, face heating up. “Um. Yeah. Yes.”
“Yes…?”
“Yes sir.” Answers Alfred, eyes lowered to Ivan’s bulge. He waits patiently for Ivan to unbuckle his belt, and Alfred gently tugs down his underwear and slips his cock out of it. For a moment, he looks at it wide eyed, and then,
“Good boy. Поехали. Yes?” Ivan grips Alfred’s hair gently, and Alfred sinks his lips onto Ivan’s dick. The taste is so familiar, and it feels so natural in his mouth. He bobs his head, and lets his eyes fall shut. Already, Alfred can feel it hardening against his tongue. One hand cups Ivan’s balls, and the other clings to the fabric of his pants. Ivan hums with approval, and tugs carefully on Alfred’s hair. “Sasha, eyes up here, hm? Ah, thank you…”
Momentarily, Ivan’s head falls back against the door. But he can’t get enough of the way Alfred’s blue eyes are trained on him, mouth full of Ivan. He rocks into Alfred’s mouth gently, and Alfred’s throat opens for his dick. At this point, it’s muscle memory to him. His eyes water with Ivan’s cockhead at the back of his throat, but he holds Ivan’s eye contact. Without thinking, Alfred’s cock is searching for friction, and he ruts slowly against Ivan’s boot. Ivan laughs lightly, and rubs the back of Alfred’s hair gently.
“You need to touch yourself?”
“Mhh,” nods Alfred, whining around Ivan’s dick.
“Alright. Since you’re– ah, doing so good. Give me your hand.”
The praise goes right through Alfred, and his left hand claws at the back of Ivan’s leg, while he offers his right up to him, and Ivan lends Alfred his spit for the latter to slip beneath the waistband of his shorts and underwear to take his own cock into his hand. He pumps in tune with each bob of his head around Ivan’s cock, and Ivan’s hands hold his hair so gently, and Alfred feels like he’s made for this. If he could suck Ivan’s dick forever, he would.
When Ivan finally comes, Alfred swallows. The blond keeps his boyfriend’s dick in his mouth until he’s coming into the palm of his own hand. He breathes heavy through his nose until Ivan tenderly pulls Alfred off of his dick, half hard again. Alfred’s face is red, and his hair is tousled from Ivan’s hold on it. Best of all, his lips are puffy and his eyes are looking for Ivan’s instructions.
“Солнышко, very cute. Up.” Ivan orders, voice soft. He pulls his shirt over his head and slides his pants and boxers the rest of the way off. Alfred obeys, and stands, watching Ivan’s movements until he smiles back at him, and follows Ivan to their bedroom. Alfred dips into their bathroom to rinse off his hand, and when he turns around, Ivan’s leaning in the doorway.
“It’ll just get dirty again, Sasha.”
“Yeah, I know, but…”
Ivan steps closer, boxing Alfred in against the counter. Alfred runs his hands over Ivan’s collarbones and over his shoulders, and Ivan lifts him so that he’s sitting on the bathroom counter, Ivan standing between his legs. The Russian looks down at Alfred’s collar and flicks it.
“I think it looks good on you. You look so pretty right now.”
“I mean, I hope so,” Alfred smiles as Ivan presses a chaste kiss to his lips before pressing their foreheads together.
“It does. And I liked watching you squirm every time that girl got close to it.”
Alfred scoffs, “I’m glad you’re getting off on this.”
Ivan nods slowly, still smiling. “What, like you’re not?”
“I’m not.”
“Right, you’re not. That’s why you sucked my dick like that.”
Alfred rolls his eyes, but he’s still smiling. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You like that I own you,” Ivan kisses him again, “It’ll be easier for both of us if you admit that.”
“Make me.”
Ivan captures his lips in a kiss, deep and long. One arm keeps Alfred in place on the counter, and with the other one, he loops a finger through the collar and tugs it forward, keeping Alfred in place. Alfred’s hands grip at Ivan’s back, and once they find a rhythm, moves his head to the side, and slides his hands back and forth over Ivan’s skin. Alfred can feel his dick hardening again, and assumes Ivan’s having the same problem, because he pulls away and lowers both hands to Alfred’s thigh, kneads them for a moment, and then slaps them twice.
“Let’s go. I’ll get you to admit it.”
“Okay.”
“Okay…?”
“Yes sir.”
“See? You know.” He kisses Alfred’s temple before walking out, and Alfred follows him. “Sasha, why are your shorts still on?”
“Oh. Sorry,” says Alfred, and adds a “Sir.” once he sees the way Ivan’s brows raise again. He sheds the last of his clothing and moves to press up against Ivan, who grips Alfred by the waist and spins them around, before abruptly shoving Alfred on the bed and crawling atop him, pinning both of his wrists down as Ivan kisses his jawline down to his shoulder. He releases Alfred’s wrists, and crawls off of him to grab their bottle of lube (which was running quite low) off of the floor where they’d tossed it last time. Alfred turns on his side to admire Ivan, and the way the dim light accentuates all of his features so perfectly.
“I need you to last for me,” Ivan states, “Should I use the ring…?”
“Um, no…” Alfred answers bashfully, before adding “please.”
“Alright,” Ivan crawls back atop him, grabbing the lube and lathering it onto his fingers, “open.”
And so Alfred does, shakily spreading his legs open until Ivan has enough room to slide in one finger. He’s not tight, so the second digit slips in quickly and Alfred gasps, reaching forward to get a hold of Ivan’s hair as he presses a kiss to the base of his cock before spreading his fingers out inside of his boyfriend. Alfred’s legs tense, and he whines, grabbing a fistful of their bedsheets when Ivan’s third finger enters him. Ivan’s free hand moves from his leg up to Alfred’s pec, and he grips it tightly, pressing firm until Alfred gives him a moan, and his head falls back against the pillow. Ivan offers a final kiss to the tip of Alfred’s dick before he retracts his fingers and grabs him by the waist. Ivan kisses him, and then taps his cheek gently.
“Моя любовь, are you good?”
Alfred nods, before mustering a “Yes sir,” which earns a smile from Ivan.
“You’re being so good. I’m almost willing to forget about earlier.”
“Ivan, come on,” pleads Alfred in a haze, who feels too hot and stretched to not be filled right now, “hurry up.”
“Patience is a virtue, Sasha.” Ivan laughs, kissing his forehead quickly before flipping Alfred over and lathering his dick in lube. Alfred cranes his head back to watch before Ivan climbs over his back, cock prodding at his hole, which feels entirely too open. “Tell me what you want.”
“I…” Alfred’s face flushes, “Please, I need you to fuck me.”
“Ah. Good boy,” coos Ivan, and he presses a kiss between Alfred’s shoulderblades before he fills him, and Alfred instinctively rocks his hips back up against Ivan. Ivan tugs at the collar, and Alfred purrs, looking back with his blue eyes glazed over.
Ivan thrusts, and Alfred’s head falls against the pillow. He crosses his arms to cushion his head, burying his face in them as Ivan pounds into him, entire body shaking. It feels so fucking good. With every thrust, he feels the nameplate of his collar jingle against his skin– Ivan fucking owns him. Alfred whines.
“Ah- mh, Ivan…”
“Hm?”
“Mhh, m– ah, more… Please…”
“Hm.” Ivan nods, freeing one of Alfred’s arms from in front of his head and linking his fingers with Alfred’s from behind. Ivan keeps pumping into him, until he slows, and Alfred’s brought out of his haze, because,
“Wh… don’t– don’t stop.”
“Oh, Sasha, I’m not done with you,” Ivan laughs breathily, “Go on your back.”
“...’Kay,” Alfred obliges, and Ivan grips both of his legs and pushes them back, folding Alfred almost in half, tossing his legs up and over Ivan’s shoulders before he thrusts into him again, and Alfred’s dick falls hard against his stomach. He reaches to touch it, but–
“Not yet. Wait for me,” pants Ivan, “Can you do that?”
“Mhm,” Alfred nods wordlessly.
“Arms up here,” instructs Ivan, motioning with one hand to his shoulders. Alfred obeys, and wraps them around Ivan’s neck, pulling his partner’s head closer. He can feel Ivan’s bangs brush against his forehead, and with every thrust, feel his breath against his lips. Ivan releases one of Alfred’s legs, pressing a thumb past his lips, and Alfred closes his lips around it as Ivan presses against his tongue. Soon enough, Ivan lowers his arms to cage in Alfred’s head, his calves falling against Ivan’s back rhythmically.
Alfred’s nails dig into Ivan’s back, and Ivan lets his head fall to rest on Alfred’s shoulder. In turn, the blond buries his face in Ivan’s hair.
“Ivannn,” calls Alfred, “I– ngh, I can’t… Help…”
“Mhh,” grunts Ivan, picking up the pace, making Alfred grip him tighter, “Not… Mmh. Not yet. Tell me who… ah, who owns you.”
“You– ahh, you do…!”
“Good boy.”
That sends the blond over the edge.
“Please,” Alfred’s voice cracks, “Need to come. Please…”
Ivan obliges, slipping his hand beneath him to stroke Alfred’s burning cock only once for him to come between both of their chests. Alfred pants, falls limp, and Ivan grips his hips and lifts them up to his until he comes too, filling Alfred until he’s dripping onto their sheets. Ivan holds himself over Alfred, catching his breath as he takes in the view. Alfred looks a mess– Ivan’s done a good job. He tugs on his collar again, and Alfred’s eyes, glazed over, meet Ivan’s again.
“What do we say, Sasha?”
“Mhh,” Alfred whines, “thank you.”
And Ivan finally slides himself out, Alfred still dripping, and falls to his side, pulling his boyfriend in tightly. Alfred weakly wraps his arms around Ivan’s back, and manages another weak ‘thank you,’ so Ivan kisses him. He cups Alfred’s jaw in one hand, and holds his face in place to look him in the eyes.
“You’re so beautiful. All night, you looked so pretty…” Ivan drops his face and wraps his arms tightly around Alfred again. “I love you.”
“Love you. Thank you.”
Alfred falls asleep at some point. It’s not until he feels the mattress dip that he wakes, seeing Ivan sit upright on the bed. Alfred frowns.
“Ivan…?”
“I didn’t mean to wake you. Sorry, cолнышко,” Ivan reaches a hand back to gently smooth over Alfred’s hair, “Go back to sleep.”
“Where… Don’t go.” Alfred reaches out to grab at his arm, and Ivan chuckles.
“I was just going to shower. You’re welcome to come.”
“Mhh.” Alfred nods groggily, and rubs the sleep out of his eyes before propping himself up and scooting closer to Ivan, resting his head on his shoulder. Ivan lets his head fall against Alfred’s, and a hand fall onto his waist, thumb tracing up and down. “Okay.”
Alfred’s nameplate is shining in the moonlight. Perhaps they’ve both forgotten it was there— It makes Ivan’s heart ache nonetheless. “Sasha, let me… Hold on.”
“Hm?”
Carefully, and begrudgingly, Ivan unclasps Alfred’s collar and sets it on the bed. Alfred smiles sleepily, and hides his face in the crook of Ivan’s neck.
“I like it,” Alfred murmurs and Ivan reaches up to pet the back of Alfred’s hair, letting out a happy sigh.
“I knew you would.”