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Artyom never liked being naked infront of other people, even himself really— actually especially himself, so this was definitely awkward.
He lay on his back under the covers, a duvet, plush (expensive), nose and finger tips poking out from under the top of it and oggling nervously the slightly-ajar bedroom door. The comforter was cool against his bare legs and um, unmentionables, and sent a shiver up his spine for the first minute or two of lying there (before it absorbed enough body heat to act the way it should), and made Artyom wish he had at least some shorts on, maybe some wool socks. A t-shirt, at the most. Maybe a pullover. Maybe. It couldn’t hurt. He could hear Pavel shuffling around in the living room just outside the bedroom, fiddling with something or other and mumbling to himself; undoubtedly he was preparing for the night of adult-themed, x-rated debauchery, but he was taking so long Artyom was almost afraid to think of what on earth he could be doing out there. The ceiling lost its appeal and his mind wandered to all the possibilities that awaited the both of them in the next few minutes, which would probably turn to hours. Was it something… risqué? Handcuffs— oh god— or rope? What if it was hot wax and hard clips? Artyom shuddered at the thought, but felt his stomach cinch in anticipation. Exciting! Sort of. What if they were leg bracers?
Through the door, Artyom heard a zipper quickly shoot up its length.
Alright not leg bracers— something with a zipper, a zipper… oh my god is Pavel into leather? Did he never tell me? Wait what if he wants to put me into the leathers— no then why would he zip it up… I mean maybe it’s not even… oooh boy… Artyom’s face was beet-red, and he’d now pulled the duvet up just under his eyes, and let his toes cross and fidget under the blanket. How long was Pavel planning to… do the do? Maybe it’s best not to think about it, he thought. He was absolutely excited to be doing this with Pavel, it’d been so long since they’d had any private time and even then it was a rather sadly dispassionate kiss shared for only a few short seconds. But this was uncharted territory, new cold waters, a whole new ball game. Better to just, let it happen? Yes, Artyom decided quite plainly. I think. Through the door, Pavel sounded to be more off to the left now, toward the kitchen, god knows what he was doing in there, and Artyom could only see his shadow pass through the doorway as he shuffled about, still somehow not yet ready. It only worsened the anticipation and let his mind run absolutely wild.
Artyom lowered the blanket a bit, and felt his chin and cheeks; did I shave recently enough? Is this clean? He wondered. Oh what if I hurt him, what if I’m all scratchy that’s no fun— well I mean, he is too, I guess… do the two cancel each other out? Useless thoughts piled on top of useless, frivolous thoughts and bogged Artyom down, way down into the mattress, until he was a sweaty little ball of worry and sexual tension. A light and aggravated moan came out of him, piercing the awkward silence he hadn’t noticed had fallen over the room. Pavel called in from outside:
“Ready, Artyomka? I’m coming in!”
“As I’ll ever be…” he said really more to himself, under his breath. He heard Pavel take a step towards the door, and saw it jiggle slightly; he was just outside. Artyom’s legs shook and he stopped breathing, resolved to keep absolutely silent and still until Pavel was with him. One foot came through the doo— … or, one um… not a foot, no.
“Pavel?”
A flat, grey paw-like…. thing pushed its way through the doorway and stood on the ground; Pavel then burst the rest of himself through the door, showily revealing what was…. well, what the hell was it, Artyom wondered. Clad in all grey, head to toe, with giant… ears? Ears on the side of a hood, and some sort of… extension type thing in front. Like a big grey onesie with inhuman proportions. Artyom sat up in bed, pulling the blanket with him to cover his bare chest.
“Pavel what the hell is that?” his mouth hung somewhat agape.
“Do you like it, Athos?” he spun around to reveal a little tail, and threw himself against the wall in the most sensual way he knew how, looking back at his partner with bedroom eyes.
“Do you know how hard it is to find an Elephant costume nowadays? What with the state of affairs in—” Artyom pegged him square in his snot-nosed little mug with a pillow, ready to show himself in the buff and fight him one-on-one— well, if he had some pants on.