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Hadrian doesn’t notice Alyosha in his kitchen for a good five minutes after he arrives home, tired and distracted. He heads straight for his and Rosana’s bedroom, shedding the light armor that he wears to work in the Church and replacing it with a light cotton shirt and pants. He sighs deeply, rubbing at a knot in his shoulder when he hears a voice alongside Rosana’s coming from the kitchen.
He stops in the doorway, disconcerted to find Alyosha chopping vegetables next to Rosana as if he belonged there.
“Exarch Alyosha?”
“Please,” says Alyosha, turning to look at him with a smile. “Just Alyosha will do. We’re not in the church, after all.”
“Ah.” Hadrian’s brain stalls for a moment. “Exar-… Alyosha, to what do we owe this pleasure?”
Before Alyosha can answer, Rosana turns, brushing her hands off on her apron.
“I invited Alyosha to have dinner with us when I ran into him earlier today,” she says, coming over to Hadrian and kissing him on the cheek, familiar and warm. “He graciously offered to help.”
“The least I could do,” laughs Alyosha. “Hadrian, your wife is as beautiful as she is generous.”
Hadrian blinks, caught temporarily speechless by the strangeness of the situation. He shakes his head, finds his tongue a moment later.
“That she is,” he replies, smiles weakly. “Where’s Benjamin?”
“With a friend,” Rosana replies. She hands him plates and forks and he goes to set the table, the sound of Rosana and Alyosha in the kitchen strangely comforting.
Dinner is uneventful but pleasant in an unexpected way. Rosana and Alyosha talk like they’ve known each other for years instead of weeks and the pair manage to steer the conversation away from the Church whenever it veers too close. Hadrian appreciates it – it’s the most peaceful he’s felt in the month or so since Prelate Lucius died. He knows he’s been distant, upheaval in the church and in his own heart keeping him from truly being present at home. It’s… nice, having Alyosha there with them, in a way he doesn’t examine too closely.
Alyosha tells them stories from his travels around the continent, the strange places he’s been in his service as Exarch, the people he met in his time in Rosemerrow. As they eat, Hadrian can’t help but notice the familiar way Rosana touches Alyosha’s hand when he says something that amuses her or how Alyosha leans in closer when she speaks. Hadrian thinks that he should be jealous or suspicious or angry, but instead he feels something heat low in his stomach, familiar and strange all at once.
It’s true that he and Alyosha have grown close in the weeks since the Exarch arrived in Velas, often working together in the Church. And though he is loath to admit it even to himself, he can’t help but notice the way that Alyosha’s hair seems to glow when struck by the light or the way that Alyosha’s laugh makes him feel warm inside or how his cheeks flush when Alyosha puts a hand on his shoulder.
So when Rosana clears their plates and leaves Alyosha and Hadrian alone at the table, he isn’t actually that surprised when Alyosha rests a hand on his own, though his cheeks still flush despite himself.
“Hadrian,” Alyosha begins, voice low and gentle. “Rosana has told me how she worries about you, as do I. You seem troubled.” Alyosha’s thumb strokes over the back of Hadrian’s hand, sending a shiver up his spine. Hadrian looks away, unable to meet the Exarch’s clear, light eyes.
“You know you can talk to me about anything, Hadrian.”
“I’m fine,” says Hadrian. “I’m just… tired.”
Hadrian startles when he feels Alyosha’s hand touch his cheek, gently turning his head so he meets Alyosha’s eyes, concerned and kind. Hadrian’s flush deepens under his dark skin, and Alyosha smiles.
“I want to help however I can, Hadrian,” he says, hand warm and dry on Hadrian’s cheek. “Rosana and I care about you deeply, and we want to see you happy.”
“I…”
Hadrian can’t find any words, all of them lost to Alyosha’s nearness.
“Hadrian,” murmurs Alyosha, leaning closer.
They’re near enough to be sharing breath now, and Hadrian can see the desire in Alyosha’s eyes alongside the concern. His breath hitches in his throat and he wets his lips with nervous anticipation.
“May I?” breathes Alyosha. Hadrian’s whispered, yes, is almost inaudible.
Alyosha kisses him softly, mouth dry and warm on Hadrian’s own. The kiss is chaste at first, just a meeting of lips, but Alyosha quickly deepens it, hungry and promising. Hadrian gasps into Alyosha’s mouth, eyes falling shut and hand coming up to cup Alyosha’s jaw. Hadrian hadn’t realized just how much he had wanted Alyosha until this moment, the heat of the kiss pooling deep in his stomach.
Alyosha breaks away grinning, hand still on Hadrian’s cheek. Hadrian opens his eyes slowly, trying not to break this moment, this trance that Alyosha has put him in. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Rosana watching them from the doorway and reality rushes back, cold panic clenching in Hadrian’s chest. He stands up quickly, almost knocking over his chair in his haste.
“Rosana, I can explain,” he begins, trying desperately to think up an excuse for why he had been kissing a church superior in their dining room. Instead, Rosana cuts him off with her own lips on his, hungry and wanting. Hadrian’s hands move unconsciously to her waist, gripping her tight as she practically devours him.
She pulls back, a light in her eyes that makes Hadrian’s mouth go dry. Suddenly, Alyosha presses in behind him, lips trailing along the back of his neck. Hadrian’s breath comes light and shallow, disoriented and confused but above all wanting.
“Let us take care of you,” murmurs Rosana, stroking soft fingers over his cheek, fingertips catching on his full lips and trailing down to his chest.
“You can say no,” Alyosha says, voice coming low and hot next to Hadrian’s ear. “I can leave and we never have to speak of this again.” He presses his lips to the corner of Hadrian’s jaw, just over his racing pulse.
Hadrian inhales and exhales slowly, trying to center himself – a nigh impossible task while trapped between two warm bodies, both still and waiting on his answer. He gathers his courage.
“Yes, I… yes.”
He can feel Alyosha grin against his neck, and Rosana kisses him again – it’s filthy, and there’s promise in the way she sinks her teeth into Hadrian’s bottom lip. Hadrian inhales sharply, knees suddenly weak. He leans back into Alyosha who grips his hips and kisses a line down his neck to his shoulder.
“As lovely as your dining room is,” says Alyosha between kisses, “I think a bed would make this more pleasant.”
“Bed,” manages Hadrian through stuttering breath, “sounds great.”
Rosana laughs and tugs Hadrian toward their bedroom, Alyosha following close behind.
Once inside, Alyosha and Rosana make quick work of his clothes. In their fervor, it’s hard to tell which hands belong to whom and whose teeth are nipping at his collarbone and whose fingers are biting bruises into his hips. Hadrian can only toss his head back and close his eyes, letting the waves of sensation wash over him. He’s too overwhelmed to reciprocate much, but he strokes his hands over any patch of skin within reach.
Alyosha pushes Hadrian onto the bed, and he lands on his back among the pillows, breathing heavily and trying to get his bearings. His breath leaves his body in a whoosh when he looks up to see Rosana and Alyosha tangled together, still standing beside the bed exchanging searing hot kisses. Rosana’s hands are making quick work of Alyosha’s shirt, and when they break apart so she can strip it off him, he dives in to kiss at her throat, making her gasp and stretch her head back to expose more skin. Hadrian gasps with her, the sight almost too much to bear.
At the noise, Rosana turns to Hadrian, cheeks flushed and eyes hazy with arousal.
“Watch us,” she rasps, her voice husky in a way that never fails to excite him. “And don’t touch yourself.”
So he watches, desire knotting in the pit of his stomach. Rosana threads her fingers through Alyosha’s hair, slowly but inexorably pushing him down so he kneels at her feet. Alyosha unlaces her skirt, pulls it down along with her underclothes so the fabric pools around her ankles. He kisses her knee, up her inner thigh, slow and careful. Hadrian can see Rosana’s breath coming heavier and faster the closer Alyosha’s mouth gets to the apex of her thighs. When he finally mouths over her arousal she cries out, hand clenching where it’s still tangled in his long blond hair. She hitches one leg over Alyosha’s shoulder to give him better access.
Hadrian groans long and low as he watches Alyosha devour his wife, hands gripping at her thighs as she grips his hair with both hands. She keens when Alyosha does something particularly good with his tongue, tension running along every line of her body. Alyosha seems to delight in it, blush spreading down his chest as he uses lips and teeth and tongue to take Rosana apart. They’re both so beautiful in their ways, Rosana with her tan skin and her thick limbs against Alyosha’s slight frame and pale face. They look like the very picture of temptation, put on Hieron simply to torture him with desire.
Rosana turns her head to look right at Hadrian, lips parted and shiny. She grins at him, breath heavy and quick.
“He’s so good with his mouth, Hadrian,” she says between pants. “I wish – ah! I wish you could feel this.”
Hadrian can certainly imagine being in her place, picturing Alyosha’s soft, pink lips wrapped around his cock, clever tongue and sharp eyes looking up at him to gauge his reactions the way he’s doing with Rosana. His cheeks burn and the wanting inside him spikes. Hadrian so desperately wants to touch himself, to give in and find some relief for the ache between his legs, but his desire to please outweighs everything else.
So Hadrian watches, rapt, as Rosana comes with a shout, grinding down against Alyosha’s mouth and shaking. Alyosha works her through it, doesn’t stop until she pushes his head away with a sigh. Hadrian catches sight of Alyosha’s mouth, shiny and slick, and can’t contain an embarrassingly desperate whine. Alyosha grins, standing and wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. Hadrian knows the taste on Alyosha’s lips intimately, has paid worship to Rosana countless times, and still he craves it more than air.
“What do you think,” says Rosana to Alyosha, looking at Hadrian. “Shall we indulge him?”
“He has been good so far,” says Alyosha, smile playing on his lips. “I suppose he deserves a reward.” The words make something clench deliciously in Hadrian’s chest and his cock twitches where it lies yet untouched on his stomach.
Rosana comes around the bed, lays down beside Hadrian and props her head up on one hand, raking her gaze down the length of his body. She crooks a finger at Alyosha, who gets up on the bed and straddles Hadrian in one graceful motion. He leans down and kisses Hadrian light and fast, playful in a way that makes Hadrian’s blood heat. He can feel his blush spreading from his face down to his chest, and Alyosha chases it with lips and teeth, nipping a trail down his neck and collarbone. He bites at one of Hadrian’s nipples, and Hadrian arches up into the pleasure-pain with a keening sound.
Rosana strokes his hair, his cheek, a gentle counterpoint to Alyosha’s lean sharpness. Her hand is soft, broad, and Hadrian lets his eyes slip closed, entrusting himself to the two of them.
“What do you want, Hadrian,” murmurs Rosana, lips close to Hadrian’s ear. Hadrian can’t think, can’t form words with Alyosha’s lips and Rosana’s hands on him. He can feel Alyosha’s wetness where he straddles Hadrian’s hips. Alyosha stops, lifts his mouth from where it had been teasing at Hadrian’s neck, biting a mark that his vestments won’t cover up tomorrow. Hadrian makes a breathy, desperate sound at the loss of contact.
“Tell me what you want,” says Alyosha. Hadrian can’t look away from his eyes, expectant and hungry, and he blurts the first thing that comes to mind.
“Let me taste you,” Hadrian rasps. Alyosha laughs, kisses Hadrian with a smile.
“Always so devout,” he says when he breaks away, moving to straddle Hadrian’s face. In a way, it does feel like worship – his desire to please overshadows all other desires.
Hadrian leans up, licks a broad stroke over Alyosha who sighs, grips the headboard. He rolls his hips down as Hadrian worships his cunt, laves his tongue messily around Alyosha’s clit and moans into him. Hadrian’s hands come up to Alyosha’s thin thighs to steady him as he steadily licks at Alyosha.
“Is he always this eager to please, Rosana?” Alyosha breathes, moaning low in his chest. Rosana laughs throatily, grazing her fingertips over Hadrian’s stomach.
“Always,” she replies. She tweaks one of Hadrian’s nipples between her fingers and Hadrian arches up, moan buzzing against Alyosha. He tastes salty and rich and good, and Hadrian can’t get enough of him, can’t get enough of their words and their praise.
“So good,” whispers Alyosha, rocking his hips. “So perfect for us.”
Alyosha comes then, bearing down on Hadrian and not letting up, sighing long and high. His thighs tense where Hadrian grips them and his body shudders all the way through the aftershocks.
Alyosha crawls down the bed enough to kiss Hadrian messily, still breathing heavy and fast. He licks into Hadrian’s mouth and Hadrian moans, desperate and wanting. He’s so close even without being touched, but it’s not enough.
As if he had heard Hadrian’s silent plea, Alyosha licks his way down Hadrian’s body. He reaches Hadrian’s cock just as Rosana leans in to kiss him, tasting Alyosha on his lips. Alyosha licks a line up the underside of his cock and he moans ragged into Rosana’s mouth, gripping the sheets tight in his fists.
Rosana whispers praise and filth in his ear as Alyosha sucks him off, quick and messy and so good. Alyosha’s tongue is clever and hot and he clearly knows what he’s doing. Rosana murmurs how well he’s doing, how she loves seeing him like this, taken apart, how good he’d look on his knees while Alyosha fucked him slow and thorough. It’s almost too much for him to handle.
Hadrian comes after just a few short minutes of this, spilling over his stomach and crying out as Rosana strokes his hair and Alyosha bites at his thighs. As he calms, Alyosha presses gentle kisses at his hips, over his stomach, and Hadrian can feel tears leak from the corners of his eyes, overstimulated and exhausted and happy. He can’t remember the last time he felt this content.
Rosana retrieves a cool, wet cloth to clean them up. She and Alyosha sandwich him between them, his back up against Rosana’s chest. He and Alyosha exchange gentle kisses as they breathe together, a moment of calm in these three lives that tend towards storm most of the time.
Eventually, Alyosha rises and collects his clothes from their scattered places around the room. Hadrian already misses his warmth, misses the security of being blanketed by bodies on either side.
“Won’t you stay?” asks Rosana. Alyosha smiles gently.
“Unfortunately, it’s not exactly proper for the Exarch to spend the night away from the church,” he says, buttoning up his shirt and smoothing it down. He returns to the bed to kiss each of them, lips gentle and warm. “I’ll return soon, if you’ll have me.”
“Anytime,” blurts Hadrian, a little too quickly, and Alyosha laughs brightly.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Brother Hadrian,” he says, a twist of mischief in his voice, and he shuts the door gently behind him.
Rosana sighs, pulling Hadrian tighter against her chest.
“Thanks,” says Hadrian quietly. Rosana doesn’t reply, just hums and kisses his shoulder as they drift off together.
It’s the best sleep Hadrian’s had in weeks.
--
When Hadrian sees Alyosha in church the next day, he can’t stop a burning flush from spreading immediately across his cheeks. He hopes no one will notice, but of course, Alyosha does.
“Brother Hadrian!” Alyosha walks over to Hadrian, knowing smile on his lips. “I trust you had a restful evening?”
“Of course,” Hadrian replies, praying to whoever will listen that his face doesn’t betray anything to the passers-by around them.
“Give Rosana my thanks,” Alyosha says, placing a hand on Hadrian’s arm. “For the lovely meal.”
Hadrian flashes back to the night, to Alyosha on his knees and Rosana’s slick on his lips and has to bite his lip to keep his expression neutral. There’s a knowing spark in Alyosha’s eyes, delighted and mischievous.
“O-of course, Exarch,” Hadrian manages. Alyosha pats his arm once, then continues on his way, leaving Hadrian red-faced in the church corridor.
Hadrian tries his best not to groan, exasperated. He’s suddenly glad that Samothes isn’t a god that demands chastity, for he knows that as long as Alyosha is in the church, he’ll never give Hadrian a minute of peace.
Somehow, he’s okay with that.