Work Text:
Gogol's white skin was glistening in the midnight moonlight that shone through the window of the small house. Fyodor froze for a moment.
He was haunted by Gogol's beauty. A beautiful angel stood before him, bathed in moonlight. His snow white curls, loosed from their usual braid, decorated his body.
Fyodor had always thought this man was beautiful, but at this moment there was something different. There was something otherworldly about his appearance. His soft, beautiful red lips just begged for Fyodor's kiss.
It wasn't the first time Fyodor had seen Gogol without his clothes on. The constant hiding and changing of clothes for work often made them dress in front of each other, but now Fyodor felt something.
Fyodor walked over and, as if there was no tomorrow in the moonlit room, he pressed his lips to Gogol's.
He did not understand why he did it. Fyodor had never felt such desire for another living being and it frightened him.
All in his life he had never felt anything like love, pleasure, lust. They were all just words to him. But the moment he saw Gogol, it all made sense to him.
At first he began to kiss the white head roughly, but seeing his fragile posture, he became more gentle. Neither of them understood what it was all about.
Fyodor gently put one hand on Gogol's waist and the other in his pure white hair. It was a long, pleasurable kiss.
Fyodor took his head away and pulled away. He wondered if he was allowed to feel this. Gogoll then hugged him from behind. He assured him that everything was all right.
Fyodor turned and pushed him into the small bed in the room. He took off all his clothes off and hugged him tightly. They stayed like that for the night. For the first time in years, Fyodor and Gogol slept peacefully.
The morning was still far away, but in Fyodor's heart something was clear. He was in love with Nikolai Gogol.