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“Would you just look at the state of my shoes,” Pagan says, his legs crossed primly. “Blood all over them, yet again. But this time, my boy, this time I put the blame for it squarely on you.” He tips Ajay’s chin up with the hard toe of one. “So you’re going to clean them for me.”
When his lip lifts in a snarl, Pagan slides it forward until the gleaming leather digs into his throat a little. Kneeling on the plush carpet in front of him with his hands behind his back, he can’t really move away, and his Adam’s apple bobs against that pressure when he swallows.
Ajay finds himself growing just the tiniest bit hard from this treatment, but Pagan doesn’t have to know that. He shifts around to hide it as best he can and stares up defiantly.
“Untie me then, shitbag,” he spits, and Pagan laughs.
“Oh no, not that way…you won’t be needing your hands. No, you’re going to do it right. With your pretty pink tongue. Let’s see it.”
“Fuck you, asshole.”
Pagan’s eyes are like chips of dark ice, even as his lips twist into a smirk. He reaches out and works a hand into his shaggy hair and slowly tightens his fist until it hurts.
“I said, let’s fucking see it. Don’t make me repeat myself.” Part of him sounds like he’s already bored with this, but another part reverberates with that same casual cruelty that Ajay remembers from that first day. Darpan and the fork.
That voice, along with the slight pain, rushes directly south. Warm and heavy. He growls like a wild animal when that hand tightens further and tugs at his head.
“Now now…do I need to put this on you?” Pagan makes a show of stroking the dog collar that lies on the couch beside him, and he shakes his head as much as he’s able to. “I thought not. Be a good boy for me and get them nice and clean.”
Ajay shuts his eyes when the hand exerts painful pressure, but he’s sure as shit not going to make it easy for him. He sets his jaw and twists his neck away hard, resisting that pull until he can feel Pagan’s arm start to shake minutely under the strain of the awkward angle.
But even while he might refuse to give in out of principle and pride and sheer fucking stubbornness, make Pagan resort to force…
…he also fully acknowledges the futility of that refusal. The futility of trying to deny Pagan pretty much anything that his dirty little heart desires.
With his eyes still tightly shut, Pagan drags his head inexorably down, not without another rush of mortifying heat to his groin. But just as his mouth is about to touch down on the glossy leather, the shoe is suddenly withdrawn. Pagan loosens his fingers and removes his hand altogether, leaving his scalp tingling in its wake.
This he wasn’t expecting. Ajay keeps his eyes closed, mildly curious to see what comes next.
Warm breath brushes at his ear, making him shiver.
“I can’t do this,” Pagan whispers. “I'm sorry…I just...”
“Hey, no…it’s okay,” Ajay says, opening his eyes. He reaches for him with hands that were never tied at all and slides them around his waist. Pagan nuzzles his nose against his ear, a gesture that feels like an apology.
“I hate to ruin your fun, I really do. But the look on your face reminded me of that day at Durgesh…like I’d utterly betrayed you.”
Ajay blinks. That’s been years ago now. Surprising that it would still bother him, especially when he didn’t realize it had ever bothered him in the first place. Pagan and Gary had been waiting for him with a jeep at the bottom of the mountain and had gotten him out of the snow before he fucking froze to death. Just as soon as he quit tripping balls for long enough to stumble his way down to them, that was. He doesn’t even remember a lot of that day, besides being convinced that Gary was a yeti.
“It’s okay,” he tells him again, trying to reassure. “Just a dumb game. Everything’s okay.”
“Come here,” Pagan murmurs, and tugs him up onto the couch with him. “Come and lie down with me for a moment.” The collar he pitches onto the nearby armchair. As they get settled together, Ajay can still see a hint of that distress in his eyes. He scoots down further so that Pagan can wrap his arms around his shoulders and tuck him in close against his chest the way he likes to.
“The only reason I wanted to try it in the first place was because I thought it might make this part even better, afterwards,” Ajay says, as he rubs his face against the warm v of skin where Pagan has his shirt unbuttoned low. “I didn’t realize it would hurt you.”
“It didn’t. More like disturbed, which I certainly wasn’t expecting. The idea did seem as if it might be fun, but something about seeing you that way…you’re far too good an actor.”
Weird, that Pagan would say that, because he usually accuses him of being ‘nauseatingly honest,’ and surely both of those statements can’t be true at the same time.
“I might have been laying it on a little thick, but just because I was about to get to the really good part.”
“Oh? Which is?” He can feel Pagan’s smile against his hair.
“I was just about to start pleading with you not to make me, and say something about there being better uses for my mouth or whatever, and then beg you to let me suck you off instead.”
The low, approving rumble that vibrates deep in Pagan’s chest is one of those sounds that he can never get enough of, and he nuzzles in appreciatively. “Mmmm, well now, that does sound lovely. By all means, feel free to skip right ahead to that par…no, hold on, scratch that,” he says, shifting from sultry to brightly cheerful with Pagan-typical whiplash speed. “I suddenly find myself with an even better idea! Why don’t we send the help home early tonight? I’ll make dinner, and…”
“Seriously, I wish you’d quit calling them that,” Ajay interjects. “You sound like some old white lady bitching about ‘the coloreds.’
Pagan snorts laughter above him. “Fine, fine…we’ll give the staff the evening off, get them out from underfoot. Because as soon as dinner’s served, you can pretend to kick the door in and act like you’ve come to shoot me! But then you change your mind about it. You can say something like ‘Pagan, you’re so evil that you’re not worthy of a quick death…but I know just the punishment!’ Or, some such thing. I leave it to your discretion. And then comes the good part: you’re definitely determined to have your way with me. So you shove me down on the table and fuck me hard and utterly ignore how I plead for mercy, while I beg you to stop!”
Pagan sounds so happy and excited about this little scenario, like he can’t wait to get started, but…now, now he knows exactly how Pagan felt by the end, like he’s had a glass of ice water thrown all over his insides. Sudden, sharp understanding fills him, along with a vague sense of nausea.
“I don’t think I can,” Ajay says slowly, forced to concede defeat. “I can’t do it…act like I was hurting you that way. Even just pretending, I…no.” He had thoroughly enjoyed having Pagan’s fist in his hair and the threat of being made to lick his shoes, but what was just a fun game for him had obviously freaked Pagan the fuck out. Although he at least had been able to get to the actually acting it out part, unlike himself…fuck, just the thought of pinning him down and acting like he was forcing him, even in play, makes his stomach roll over.
And besides, that particular day had fucking sucked.
Pagan heaves a sigh. “Listen to us, we’re pathetic. We’re both lacking in the proper kinky spirit.”
“Eh, that roleplay shit’s overrated. But I like the other part you said, the cooking dinner idea. Just us, and we can light the candles and stuff… you still want to?”
Ajay lifts his head to gaze into Pagan’s face and notes that any lingering trace of that distress in his eyes has been supplanted by a speculative and slightly horny gleam. Happily lies there half-draped over him and just watches as Pagan pretends to think it over.
“You drive a hard bargain, Mister Ghale. Very…hard, indeed,” and Ajay rolls his eyes and chokes back a laugh. Undeterred and unruffled, Pagan continues. “And what shall I receive in return for all of my culinary efforts, hmm?” He seems to like this teasing game much, much better, but Ajay realizes a little late that he didn’t actually have an answer ready. Hadn’t thought that far ahead yet.
“…yeah, I…I mean…” Searches frantically for something not completely stupid to say…only for his mind to go blank and to end up trailing off like a dumbass.
“Oh, don’t you worry, dear boy, I’m sure you’ll be able to come up with something.” And he throws him a little wink.
A dinner eaten in heavy silence, the tension between them so thick and palpable that feels to Ajay as if he might be able to reach out and slice into it with his steak knife.
Finally, Pagan sets his fork down with a sharp clack of metal against porcelain, maybe harder than he intended; the sound rings and echoes loudly in that hush, more so than it might otherwise.
He glances up from the meat he hasn’t been hungry for and has been pushing around his plate for some minutes now. Long minutes. While he has no interest in reliving that day he’s managed to more or less stop thinking about every time he comes in here, he had looked at Pagan seating himself at the head of the table, and at his own usual seat directly to his left…and slid into the one at the foot instead. Did it without even recognizing what instinct had prompted him to.
Just a feeling. He lays his own fork down much more quietly, resting it against the edge of his plate.
Pagan clears his throat before resting his chin on his hand, and just gazes at him.
“Boy, go ahead and put that gun down,” he says softly, soft and warm as old velvet, and a little answering thrill runs up his spine. “We both know you’re not going to use it.”
“You sure about that?” With a quiet to equal his. And unlike what they did before, this time he finds himself able to respond without even a trace of awkwardness. He slides into his role just as he did this particular seat, and this time, joins the game as easily as breathing.
“Oh yes, I’m quite sure. I can see it in your eyes…such familiar eyes. Such a familiar look as well, one I could never forget. No, it isn’t killing me that you’ve had on your mind.”
God. As he stares, Pagan slowly rises from his place at the table and moves toward him like something stalking its prey. No, like something that already has its prey cornered and knows it isn’t going anywhere: a smooth, graceful prowl, patient and unhurried. He makes a show of touching the top of each pushed-in chair as he passes it, of running his hand over it with a little teasing caress before moving on to the next.
By all accounts, what Pagan’s doing should look fucking ridiculous. It’s so stupidly over the top that it should be laughable, like actually silly.
But it isn’t. It really, really isn’t.
“It’s not the desire to see me dead that keeps you awake at night, is it? In your dreams, it’s not my blood you wish to spill.” As he glides closer, Ajay stands abruptly. And then, quick as a striking viper, he shoots a hand out to seize him. Wads his fist into Pagan’s collar and gets himself a good, firm grip.
“Like mother, like son,” Pagan whispers, his eyes full of heat.
It’s true.
A shudder runs through him…and then he jerks Pagan up onto his toes.
“You said you were giving me Kyrat,” he says, low and rough. “That mean you come with it?”
Pagan smiles, but it’s all tight, with a lot of teeth showing. Like a challenge.
“My boy…as with the rest of this country, it’s merely a matter of claiming what’s already yours.”
Their gazes lock, and as Ajay stares directly into his wicked, knowing eyes, he slams a forearm down onto the table and rakes the dishes out of their way.
And then immediately winces at the ensuing noise, as at least half of them end up careening off the side and onto the floorboards. Plates and serving platters and their wineglasses all go sliding way farther than he meant them to, and they might’ve been able to hear the resulting crash of busted porcelain and dented metal all the way down at the guard’s shack.
“Oh shit…seriously? Gotta be fuckin’ kidding me,” he mutters, accidentally breaking character too. A lot of them weren’t exactly empty either, god. Pagan starts laughing while he’s surveying the damage, but since he’s still on his toes with Ajay’s other fist clenched under his chin, he does his best to keep the game going by faking a coughing spell instead.
Well, at least there’s room now, he thinks, and then finds it remarkably easy to get back into what they were doing when he yanks Pagan around to shove him up against the edge of the table. Gets in real close and pushy, crowding up into his space so that the backs of his thighs are crushed into it.
“Oh, look at you, kicking down doors and swaggering in here,” Pagan taunts him, mean and cutting and with that same hard little smile. “The bloody savior of the Golden Path. But tell me, what would your little friends say if they could see you now, hmm? Watching as you spare their mortal enemy for no better reason than your own filthy desires. Out of mere lust. What would they think of their big hero then?”
“But they’re not here. Nobody is. So it doesn’t matter. There’s no one to watch what I’m doing right now,” as he pushes him back, back onto the tabletop. “Besides you. Right now, there’s just you…and me.”
“Pfft, big talk to go with that big gun and that big strut. I don’t believe a word of it,” but even as Pagan says it, he spreads his legs to make room for him. “I happen to think you’re afraid. Even now, you’re afraid of what it is you really want. Of how much you want it.” His lip curls with derision. “Deep down, you’re too scared to do anything about it.”
“Oh yeah? Is that what you think?” He twists his hand more firmly into the fabric at his throat and climbs up with him, settling his knees between his open thighs.
“It is. Unless you care to prove otherwise. You’re more than welcome to try. By all means, feel free! ” Pagan’s eyes bore into his. “So go on then. Do it. Prove me wrong.” He snorts in contempt. “But what you and I both know, boy, is that you won’t do a damn thing. Too much of a coward, I wager.”
“Hope you didn’t bet much,” he growls, and presses Pagan’s heavier body into the wood with his own. Grinds down against him so he can feel how hard he is already, obvious even through the thick layer of his jeans. He pins him there with his full weight, and while he slides his other hand down to Pagan’s belt and jerks it open, he uses the fist at his throat to slowly force his head back. Exerts pressure, until his chin is tipped up to the ceiling.
Pagan shivers under him, hard enough to feel it.
“Too much of a coward to even kiss me,” he whispers.
With his head at that angle, it keeps him from being able to see the fond smile that spreads across Ajay’s face. He has to take a moment to get it under control and rearranged back into a scowl. And then lets go of his shirt collar to cradle the back of his head.
“Depends…will it get you to shut the hell up?” he snarls, and lowers his own head.
In sharp contrast, Ajay’s lips are so much more gentle than his harsh words, as he slides his other arm around him to kiss him soft and sweet. Unable to resist holding him close, if only for a moment or two; a moment in which he drops the game and meets Pagan’s mouth with a velvety little nudge of his own. And Pagan runs his fingers into his hair and kisses him back the same tender way: with so much love in it.
Just a brief moment in order to share a little reassurance, a small reminder that all of this really is only a fun little game. Only done in play. It would’ve been smart to have stopped and thought about this kind of stuff beforehand, but unfortunately being impulsive as fuck is a trait they both share. They should’ve done this much earlier, way before it ever got to the point of either of them getting kind of freaked out.
But that’s hindsight for you. At least they’re learning as they go.
Pagan cradles his face in his hands and gives him one last soft little rub with his mouth before he breaks away. But not very far; just enough to nuzzle his nose against his with his eyes all bright. He loves that look, could never get enough of seeing it there. Whenever Pagan’s happy, he radiates it like sunshine. Like now, as Pagan gazes into his eyes and takes his hand and guides it down between them to the waistband of his trousers.
“Let’s continue, shall we? I believe this is about where we left off,” he murmurs, face flushed and eyes sparkling. Ajay grins at him and leans in to brush his lips softly over his cheekbone…and then pops the button and yanks them down his thighs in one motion.
“What, you think I’m scared of you or some shit?” Ajay announces loudly, getting back in character. “That I’m gonna freak out over the idea of kissing a guy, or even fucking one? Fucking you? Think again, Pagan. Think again,” as he delves into his jeans for one of the packets of lube he stashed there earlier, tucking it into his palm.
The way Pagan squirms under him and only pretends not to cooperate with his efforts to get his underwear stripped off and flung after his pants; the way that nasty little smirk curling his lips doesn’t match the warmth in his eyes tells Ajay everything needs to know.
That it’s time to give in and give them what they both want.
A little later, while they’re still cuddled up together on top of the table and completely fucked out, Pagan breaks the post-coital silence.
“I love it when you do that.”
He makes a sound of drowsy inquiry, Pagan’s fingers carding through his hair relaxing enough to have him nearly drifting off. Well, that and having just come his brains out.
“When you’re so concerned for my pleasure that before you’ve even taken a moment to get your breath back, you’re seeing to me,” he clarifies, and Ajay can hear the satisfied smile in his voice.
It was true, he’d still been breathing a little hard when he’d pulled out and squirmed down far enough to butt Pagan’s stroking hand out of the way so he could take him in his mouth. He considers how to respond.
“Not as ‘truistic as you make it sound,” he finally murmurs. Which Pagan laughs at, low and rusty and warm, felt under his cheek as much as heard. “But nex’ time’s my turn, alright? Only fair.”
Nice as it is being cradled in Pagan’s arms with his head on his chest, he really needs to get off him soon. Lying on the hard table for too long will make him stiff for sure. And not in the fun way.
“Of course,” a soft murmur into his hair as Pagan pulls him closer, gently squeezing.
Maybe...just a few more seconds.
End
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