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Summary
Nikolai rested hands on both sides of his waist, leaned closer and traced kisses over jaw. “Don’t tell me someone’s being possessive”, whispered frivolously but Fyodor could tell edge of something far darker in tone.
“I wouldn't call it being possessive”, Fyodor corrected, reached for Nikolai’s tie. Toyed with it without sparing him a glance, nothing but reminder who’s pulling the strings here. “Just keeping track of what’s mine”, he added nonchalantly, stated like a fact.
Feral smirk crept up Nikolai’s lips, difficult to tell if lust was for blood or to tear him apart in much sweeter yet no less primal ways. “What’s yours?”, chuckled Nikolai, doubtlessly diverted. He gripped Fyodor’s chin and coaxed into looking directly into his eyes. Then whispered in octave lower.
“Oh Fyodor, I am yours as much as you are mine”
In which Fyodor and Nikolai attend party mission with atrocities on mind but things take the unexpected (horny) turn.