Work Text:
Fedyor woke up buried under a strong body. An arm was draped across his chest and his lover’s breath tickled the crook of his neck. He was a bit uncomfortable, but he would glady die surrounded by that solid warmth rather than move.
He still couldn’t process what had happened.
He and Ivan.
Fedyor never thought it could happen. Ivan. Strong, aloof, serious Ivan, almost his opposite in every aspect of their personality but, at the same time, the one he had been attracted to since he realized he liked boys.
Ivan cultivated an attitude of detachment, but Fedyor knew there was much more in him than what the other man wanted to show to the others.
And, Oh Saints, the night they had just spent together proved it.
There had been a party to celebrate the wedding of two fellow Grisha. In those rare occasions, when it was only them and not the prying, judging eyes of the aristocracy and the prejudiced ozatskaya, Ivan let himself go a little.
That night his quiet smile, the softness of his eyes, the way of his dress kefta showed off his lithe and strong body were mesmerizing.
He had invited Ivan to dance and then, with the help of a bit of alcohol, Fedyor found the courage to kiss him.
He never thought in a million years that Ivan would reciprocate him, in the middle of the hallway where everybody could see them nonetheless, nor that he would be dragged in Ivan’s room.
He had been frenzy with lust and he had expected to have a quick, dirty, hot intercourse against a wall or bent over Ivan’s tidy desk.
But what he got was so much more that his heart was still aching because of it.
Ivan had been relentless and gentle at the same time, he used his hands, his lips and his cock to make him come again and again; he even took care to clean them. Then, when he finally collapsed against him, Fedyor couldn’t help but trap him with his legs and arms, not giving Ivan any chance to get away, before falling asleep tangled together.
He felt him move and Fedyor instinctively squeezed him tight, not wanting to let him go. And he was delighted in feeling his lover’s heartbeat speed up.
When Ivan lifted his head, in his eyes there was the same naked incredulity and wonder Fedyor felt when he woke up.
He didn’t wait for Ivan to open his mouth and pronounce words of justification or apology.
He pushed him on his back and kissed him thoroughly.
If that would be the only time they would spend together, Fedyor had every intention to take advantage of it fully.
To his greatest joy Ivan didn’t resist him and, when he felt his erection pressing against his tight, Fedyor slid down, smiling like the cat who caught the mouse.
It was his turn to make Ivan come apart.
Ivan prided himself on being a rational person, on being able to dominate his feelings and his emotions.
When he arrived at the Little Palace as a scrawny, semiliterate and half starving boy from a tiny town near the Fjerdan border, he had decided he would become the best heartrender he could be and that he would not grow attached to anyone.
If he and the other Grisha were destined to be soldiers, he didn’t want to relive the same pain he felt when he lost his papa, uncle and brothers.
He would fight for the Ravkan people along his comrades, because it was his duty, but he would keep them at arm’s length.
He had been content to be a rising star among the cadets, to be respected by them, to have meaningful relationship with the older Grisha who mentored him, even to have caught General Kirigan’s eye.
He felt proud of his accomplishments, he felt useful as a soldier, he felt his family’s death hadn’t been in vain. He felt lonely sometimes, but it was a price he was ready to pay, he had never been very sociable anyway.
Too bad Fedyor appeared and destroyed the carefully constructed postulates he based his life on.
The way he felt inexplicably attracted by the younger heartrender baffled him. Sure, Fedyor was beautiful, everybody could see that. But he was also amiable, outgoing, talented and ruthless if necessary.
Half of the Little Palace was in love with him. But Fedyor had decided to befriend him, to his utter panic and confusion he didn’t get discouraged by his cold attitude and he kept returning to him.
Fedyor, who could have had anyone he wanted, had spent the previous night with him.
Ivan still couldn’t wrap his head around it.
The evening before he had felt unusually sentimental. The bride looked lovely in with her kokoshnik adorned with ribbons and beads and the groom looked like he was walking on air. Grisha and oprichniki and even some ozatskaya relatives of the newlywed were enjoying the celebration.
Ivan found himself thinking that that was the reason they fought, bleed and died: to create a world where that would be a normal occurrence and not something they have to hide behind the high walls of the Little Palace.
Fedyor had invited Ivan to dance, and then kissed him and let him love him in every way Ivan wanted, leaving him only the morning after and only after a fairly spectacular blowjob.
Now Ivan was sitting at his usual spot at the breakfast table, his mind still reeling. He had Fedyor for one magnificent night, he could not logically expect the other man would want to repeat the experience. Yesterday they had been carried away by the joy and the excitement around them (and by a discrete amount of vodka); but the truth was that they simply were too different, and the world wasn’t the bubble of happiness and love it was yesterday.
They were comrades and even friends, but Ivan shouldn’t be greedy and expect from Fedyor something more, he was too serious, too busy climbing the ranks of the second Army and too …scared…of his own feelings, to be a good partner for him.
Fedyor could and should find someone better than him, it would be the best for everyone involved if this lovely, unsettlingly deep experience was one night stand and they would go on in their lives.
But then...
...why was Fedyor sitting in front to him instead of having breakfast with his friends? Why was he smiling at him with a blinding luminosity worth of the mythical Sun Summoner?
His traitorous heart skipped a beat and Fedyor’s smile became even more shining if it was possible to.
“Good morning Ivan,” he said, intertwining their fingers together.
“Hi,” Ivan blushed, instinctively tightening his hold.
All the reasonings he had agonizingly mulled over for the last hour evaporated from his head.
For once, he didn’t care everybody could see his composure slip.
The only things that mattered were Fedyor’s hand in his and the way he looked at him as if he was the most important thing in the world.