Fandom: Original Roleplay (Dash)
Pairing: Nikolas Salander/Benjamin Morrissey
Word Count: 1,888
Summary: Today, it’s different.
Niko’s stopped sleeping a long time ago, but today there’s a good reason for him to lie in bed.
Warmth touches his arm, swathing him in a sort of delightful aura. Usually he wakes up alone, but today’s something different.
The rain pitter-patters outside, making the world cold, but underneath sheets that give off the scent of deeds frowned upon by God, and with his arms wrapped tight around the waist of another human, Niko’s never felt warmer. His lips move, very slowly, and he presses a line of kisses down the back of his companion’s neck.
Benjamin Morrissey is asleep.
He usually isn’t very affectionate, hiding beneath the guise of a territorial man. Niko’s eyes manage to center in on marks created by last night’s encounter—sometimes he counts the purple on porcelain skin—and he kisses the color that’s on the junction between neck and shoulder. The man in his arms stirs, but does not wake; though Niko catches the ghost of a smile on his face that makes him feel considerably twitterpated.
God, he’s thinking like a character out of a Nicholas Sparks novel.
The fingers gently touching Benny’s stomach flicker, making spider-like motions along the abdomen, as Niko kisses a spot on the back of his neck. Certainly, there would be issues about bringing hickeys to work, but Niko’s never really bothered with modesty. On that note, he should be getting up right now, should be getting up and putting on finer clothes, but he pulled the cord to his phone the night before and he couldn’t be bothered to plug it back in. The man in his arms is warm, sending heat all the way to Niko’s toes, and giving humans the chance to call him would mean Niko had to leave Benny alone.
He’s done it before. He’s written hasty notes on whatever scrap of paper he could find and leave them in an easy-to-notice place before leaving the apartment entirely—and then, at work while the boys are dancing and the lights are flashing, step behind Benny and curl their fingers together while his mouth dragged open-mouthed kisses on the exposed part of his neck. Niko’s never apologized for leaving in the early mornings, but it seems Benny always understood. The younger’s never quite known Niko’s reasons for escape, but he’d always known the gravity of it.
Today, however, Niko decides not to leave.
And on this day, when Benny shifts in brief waking, Niko moves his upper body a little so he can kiss the corner of his mouth.
“Morning,” he whispers against those lips, one arm uncurling itself from its comfortable position to drag the fingers at the end down the outer line of his thigh.
Something like a sleepy chortle comes out of his companion. “Morning kisses? You don’t seem the type, Nikoshka.”
Niko decides to let the Russian nickname slide as he fully removes himself from Benny’s body, hands gently maneuvering him so that his back is against the mattress. “Schizophrenia,” he says, leaning downward as his hands seek purchase on the younger’s hips, mouth touching the skin of Benny’s forehead. “Or some other psychological bullshit.” The pads of his thumbs vaguely roll the flesh beneath, rubbing against hipbones that fascinate. Benny laughs.
“Should I be worrying over your mental health?”
Niko presses their foreheads together, tips of their noses brushing as his left hand slides from Benny’s hips, lifting his right leg slightly while he kisses him on the mouth. He feels arms wrap around his neck, feels the tilt of Benny’s head as their lips slide to fit, and when Niko sucks a tad on Benny’s lower lip, he hears the tiny moan and grins. Then his tongue licks in, rubs against the roof of Benny’s mouth, before rubbing against Benny’s own tongue. A soft ‘mmn’, though Niko’s not sure if it’s from him or from his lover, and then he sucks on the soft muscle that isn’t his own.
As they part, Benny’s lips are pink, and they shine with proof of Niko’s purchase.
“Not when half the time it’s you who drives me mad,” he answers. His companion’s answering smile is more than worth the confession.
The pads of Niko’s index, middle, ring and pinky finger drag themselves smoothly along the underside of Benny’s thigh, while his thumb does the same on the upper. They curl around his tibia, and Niko pulls back completely as he lifts Benny’s right leg.
He presses an open-mouthed kiss to the other’s ankle.
“Affectionate, aren’t we?” the man asks, his hands over his head and his elbows bent; fingers curled for the nails to softly touch their corresponding palms. When Niko looks down at him, spark of amusement in his cinnamon eyes, he moves to suck at the joint. “I haven’t marked you here yet,” he mouths against Benny’s skin, and at this point moves his lips over his teeth to scrape the edges down slowly. He feels the shivers, and those scrapes turn into hard sucks that turn otherwise-perfect skin into fields for blooming purple color. Benny’s other foot lifts as if to kick him, but Niko easily catches his ankle and keeps the blow from reaching.
He allows a brow to raise in vague interest. “I’m sorry?” he inquires, though he turns his head to give Benny a view of his profile as he slides his lips down the length of his limb; eyes watching all reactions intently. The hand that held the ankle moves its palm down the underside of Benny’s left thigh.
The younger man pouts, wiggles his hips.
“If you’re going to arouse me and then leave a note on the fridge again, I’m going to hurt you.”
Niko grins as he kisses the small notch of skin in-between Benny’s leg and groin. “You’re welcome to try.” And then the kiss is transferred to the base of Benny’s cock.
This one gives a better response, making Benny squirm and lick his lips. “Really, Nikolas?” he asks, quite possibly knowing perfectly well how that name makes Niko shiver. “It’s early,” Benny observes, and Niko gently lowers the man’s legs before moving in-between them and kissing him on the mouth once more. Niko bites the lower lip softly, and he pulls back once more to speak a single, one-syllable word.
Then he urges onward, mouth exploring the expanse of Benny’s body. He never spends more time on one area than another, and each square inch is touched with the warmth of an outwardly cold man. By the time Niko’s sucked on Benny’s navel, he wants so desperately to slam home.
But he doesn’t, because today, he has time.
Somehow Niko manages to fumble into the wooden drawer at his bedside, taking out a small jar that wasn’t used the night before. He notices Benny’s eyes on it, perhaps in curiosity, perhaps in wariness, and as he unscrews the lid and dips a finger in it, Niko’s lips curve into a grin.
“Singaporean,” he purrs.
Slowly, the pad of his index finger moves down, and it presses very soft around the edges of Benny’s entrance. Niko feels it, then—the sensation of cold on his finger before it’s suddenly too warm. At this point, he knows that the physicality of it will be reflected on the skin he’s touched.
When Benny gasps and Niko interestedly sees the twitch of his entrance, he lets out a low hum of appreciation.
“Singaporean!” the younger exclaims.
And then Niko inserts the finger fully in.
“Oh—” The syllable is cut short as Niko presses comforting kisses to the man’s neck, the flat of his tongue giving a lick. Benny’s legs wrap around his waist, and his hands tangle in Niko’s hair. Niko’s hand retreats only to coat his middle finger with lubricant, and then he pushes again past the tight ring of muscle, allows himself a groan when he feels the pressure against both fingers. “Khristos,” he utters against the skin of Benny’s neck, scissoring the man’s opening. “Khristos, Benny, tak krepko…” Niko pushes them further, and revels in the broken sort of exhalation that Benny gives in return.
“It’s hot,” Benny whispers, tugging on Niko’s hair. “Nikolas, it’s hot—”
He curls his fingers inward and feels a sense of worship when Benny’s back arches as he cries out.
If only Benjamin was a religion.
He stretches him further—slicks a third finger and pushes it in—and the contradiction of the cool cream is stimulating when coupled with the heat of Benny’s channel. Niko shudders, and while one hand firmly holds Benny down, the other continues to move, stretching and exploring; urging the younger on. Again, he repeats the earlier motion, his fingers curving as they folded, and when Benny’s hands pulled on Niko’s hair hard enough to tear, he let out a little purr.
“You’re bleeding slow today,” Benny pants out, but Niko silences him with a kiss, pulling his fingers out and slicking himself up this time. “And you’re fucking demanding,” he whispers, before slowly pushing in.
There’s the stiffening; Niko’s hands curl around Benny’s hips and he grits his teeth as he feels everything around him. Christ, the temperature’s cold, but in a few seconds it’s suddenly too warm, and somewhere in the back of Niko’s mind he thinks—Singapore—while he slides home. Their mouths open at the same time, Niko’s with a slight widening of his eyes, Benny’s with the closing. The pressure on his hair makes Niko shiver, but not more than how the feel of Benny’s body against his does. He ends up stopping, pressing his forehead to the younger man’s neck, waiting for the go signal, and when Benny tightens himself, Niko groans.
“Move,” Benny exhales, breath shaky.
In a situation like this, Niko has no choice but to comply.
For once, it isn’t hard and fast. His hands keep Benny safe against him as he moves, his lips drizzling the man’s chest with soft kisses. When one of Benny’s hands move to his back, and when nails dig into his skin, Niko’s mouth opens, and his teeth scrape against a nipple. “Aah—” He hears the younger gasp, can feel the thrust of hips. “—Niko, please.”
So he pleases.
The shift is immediate and smooth, because Niko’s tilted Benny’s hips up and pulled out before thrusting back in completely. The fingernails scrabble, leave crescent-moon shapes in the pale flesh of Niko’s scarred skin, and the Russian mutters an expletive as he began to slam in. Then there’s noise—shouts and moans and secretive whispers of names—and it sends tingles down to the base of Niko’s spine as he moves and moves and moves—
Tight. It’s tighttightsoverytight, and then warmth splashes on his stomach and the heat overwhelms.
He shouts Benjamin’s name: three syllables, eight letters; and somewhere in-between he’s whispered some forgotten confession that neither of them manage to hear. Niko somehow drifts back down, manages to shift his body so he falls beside Benny instead of on top of him, but this is useless as he feels a slender frame curl up against his own.
A kiss to Benny’s nose. Something like a laugh from either of them.
“It’s early,” Benny murmurs into Niko’s collarbone, giving it a soft kiss.
There’s a shrug from the older.
“Maybe we should start our morning routine with a shower.”