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It’s only natural that a harrowing day of handshakes and policy debate would culminate in this, Felix thinks as Dimitri gently and wordlessly pushes him into his bed. Felix had barely removed his overcoat before Dimitri advanced upon him, though it was hardly a surprise; he could feel the man’s desperate gaze roaming over him as soon as he’d removed his gloves upon stepping into the threshold of the bedroom, could feel the way Dimitri watched him shrug out of his coat and fold it deliberately with an almost tangible burning intensity. Felix had expected Dimitri to close the distance between them at any moment, though he pretended like he hadn’t noticed.
He hadn’t, however, expected the expression he is now faced with to be so… fond.
It’s too much all at once. Both of Felix’s hands fly up to cover his face as he forcefully squeezes his eyes shut. Dimitri shifts closer to him on the bed, rustling the sheets as his soft breathing increases in volume. “Look at me, Felix,” Dimitri murmurs, his warm breath ghosting across Felix’s neck, and Felix swallows, shaking his head stubbornly. “Let me admire you… please.”
Dimitri’s searching fingers glide across Felix’s hips like a question before dipping under the hem of his shirt, and Felix inhales sharply as Dimitri begins to roam across the skin of his stomach, his calloused fingerprints lazily tracing the lines of Felix's many combat scars. A shrill noise escapes his throat, completely undignified, and the embarrassment pools an almost perversely pleasant shame in his gut. “How cute,” Dimitri whispers fondly, and Felix’s hips tense at the words alone.
“D-Dimitri,” Felix tries to growl, even as the stammer gives his voice the cadence of a whimpering puppy.
“Open your eyes, Felix,” Dimitri insists as his fingers continue their agonizing crawl down his chest, brushing delicately past ribs he had once bruised with those same hands. “Please, I want to see your face. To reassure me when I…”
He feels almost nauseous from nerves. “Ngh…” Dimitri’s body warmth is enveloping him, and he finds himself slipping into a daze. “Why… must I…”
“Please,” Dimitri repeats, and the gentle plea sets his pulse drumming. The thought of making eye contact with Dimitri as he touches him is mortifying, but to his own confused disgust a thrill runs down his spine with a shudder.
His back tensing against the bed frame, Felix lowers his arms hesitantly, blinking his eyes open to meet Dimitri’s yearning blue one. The smile that stretches across the king’s face, soft and sweet and full of a gentleness of their youth, alights a flushed fire in Felix’s cheeks. Dimitri reaches up to caress his jaw with a light, almost imperceptible touch, his expression so serious and earnest, piercing through Felix’s emotional armor with one directed blow. Reflexively Felix arches his back as the tendrils of sensation tingle through him, and Dimitri leans down, lips and teeth brushing against his neck. “Can I…?”
Each huff of air from Dimitri’s words dances across his skin. Felix’s own response is lodged in his throat and instead he nods silently, tilting back his neck as an offering.
“Don’t close your eyes,” Dimitri says hoarsely, further rousing the painful heat in Felix’s cheeks.
Felix watches with quivering, shallow breaths as Dimitri lowers his lips, and a muffled groan lodges in his throat at the flash of teeth moments before the sting of pain. He whimpers, the pathetic sound dizzying him as he watches Dimirri’s own expression grow hungrier. Felix finds himself once again caged with an unpredictable animal, shuddering at the thought of how much trust he is placing in this man’s wild fangs with the potential to bite through where he is most vulnerable. And yet knowing Dimitri won’t hurt him gives it all the thrill and fear of stepping towards the edge of a vast precipice with no barrier to prevent him from an endless fall.
Felix moans again, louder, as Dimitri’s teeth dig into his neck, and the other man lets up, swiping his tongue against the pulsing mark as his lips nurse the pain to a pleasurable ache. Dimitri’s hands, ghosting indecisively across his body, find their way to where Felix’s hands have dropped at his sides, and he links them together with a painful squeeze, the pads of his fingers clenching against Felix’s knuckles as he shifts the angle of his teeth on his neck and sinks them in again. Wildly Felix wonders whether this is supposed to hurt so much, and for that matter finds himself marveling at Dimitri’s newfound ability to multitask. The coherent thought lasts for half a second before the swell of pain sends sparks through his vision, and with a needy sound he tugs Dimitri down by his hands. He is enveloped by Dimitri’s wider chest pressing against his own, and Felix melts back into the nest of sheets, his vision consumed by Dimitri’s overwhelming silhouette.
Dimitri continues to nip at his skin, and Felix grows restless, aching for more, for Dimitri to touch him everywhere all at once. His carefully crafted shame has evacuated and for a frantic moment he almost lets a begging plea escape, his trembling lips struggling to form a single noise, much less coherent words. Dimitri pulls back then, meeting Felix’s nervous gaze with his own awestruck one, a line of blood trailing down Dimitri’s lip to his chin.
“How did you manage to bite yourself?” Felix wheezes with halfhearted disdain. He can feel Dimitri’s heartbeat against his own, melding together in one erratic rhythm of frenzy. “What a — what an idiot…”
Dimitri lets go of one hand and brushes away the blood with the back of one knuckle, a casual gesture that somehow paired with his slick bangs plastered to his forehead and feverishly flushed skin is utterly captivating. “I’ve never heard you sound like this,” Dimitri says, so earnest and exposing. “Will you… again…? For me?”
“No,” Felix snaps, and he knows he’s lost when Dimitri smirks knowingly, hearing the yes not so deep underneath the flimsy denial.
Dimitri’s hand briefly alights on his thigh, and Felix’s eyes flutter shut with an anxious exhalation. A disapproving sound rumbles from Dimitri which he tries to ignore. “Felix,” he whines, and Felix can see the pout in his mind’s eye. “Stay with me. Don’t stop — looking.”
“It’s —” He forces his eyes open again, gut twisting at Dimitri’s yearning expression hovering over him. “Embarrassing.”
“I like that,” Dimitri blurts, and it’s clear from his sudden pink cheeks that it surprises even himself. “Not — not specifically that you are embarrassed, but rather, ah — your demeanor, it is quite. Um. Endearing?” The king is beginning to flounder; he grips Felix’s fingers too tightly, and he grunts with displeasure. “Forget I said anything, you may close your eyes if you wish, Fel—”
“Oi—” He squeezes Dimitri’s hand in return, a reminder to be more careful. “You’re crushing my — sword hand,” he snaps, which sounds incredibly stupid the moment it leaves his lips. “If you want me to look at you,” he adds in a mumble, “at least… do something.”
Dimitri nods slowly, releasing Felix’s fingers and reaching his hand up and around the back of his head. Unsure what exactly Dimitri is up to, Felix narrows his eyes with a warning growl; then he feels a tug, and suddenly his hair is spilling from its tie around his shoulders. “Why,” Felix whines, shriller than intended. “That takes — that takes time, you know.”
“It’s beautiful,” Dimitri responds with all the wonder of a curious child, looping one lock around his finger and teasing the strands apart with his thumb. “Won’t you let me play with it?”
The sincerity makes Felix tremble. “You’re already doing it,” he mutters, the words thick and heavy. His gaze is drawn against his will to Dimitri’s features, the pink dusting of blush on the bridge of his delicate nose, the eyelashes casting shadows on his cheek, the partially parted lips swollen with blood. No matter how brutishly strong the man has become, it doesn’t change the fact that the bastard is still — “Fucking pretty,” Felix mumbles — and chokes. Of all the things to let slip — ! It must be the curse of directly looking at Dimitri for too long, the prolonged eye contact dulling his judgement and reflexes. Yes, this is Dimitri’s fault.
Dimitri’s eye widens, his hand pausing mid-caress of Felix’s hair. “M-me…?”
“Ah?” Felix squeaks back, as though he hadn’t heard the dreadful admission himself. “Uh. ...You what?”
“Felix!” Dimitri says, leaning back reflexively with exasperation and yanking his hair forward along with it.
Felix hisses as a flash of pain tingles from his scalp and down the back of his neck, melting into something… pleasant? “Shit,” he says, not out of discomfort but at the dreadful realization he is feeling quite the opposite. “Watch it, you —”
“You think I’m pretty...?” Dimitri asks again, expression momentarily blanking into something unreadable. Felix tries to look away, but clearly the other man can sense his intention and furrows his brow sternly, and the reflexive retreat dies before it can begin. “And you liked… that,” he adds, not even a question — just a statement of fact, which makes it so much worse.
“Did not,” Felix says petulantly, mortifying himself.
Dimitri huffs with laughter, giving Felix’s hair another tug with clear intent, and he whimpers. “Are you sure?”
“I — uh —” Is that supposed to be a challenge? Because Dimitri… is winning, actually. “Of course I don’t—” And the words are cut off as he inhales sharply, Dimitri’s fingers in his hair pulling back and tilting up his chin. “H-hey…”
Dimitri’s hand releases the tension in his hair and strokes it once instead, which startles Felix for another reason entirely. “Please tell me what you like,” he says, and if Felix had only heard Dimitri’s mild voice, as though he’s taking an order in the dining hall, he would have scoffed. But he’s being forced to look at Dimitri, and Felix watches him drag his tongue slowly across his lips after he speaks, eyes heavy-lidded and chest swelling with heavy breaths.
Goddess, have mercy on me.
“Just — do whatever,” Felix wheezes, because there’s no way he’s saying how should I know? “I’ll — you’ll know if it’s bad.”
Dimitri hums thoughtfully, ghosting his palm down the side of Felix’s hip before settling it on his thigh, dangerously close to his waist. Felix’s leg jerks involuntarily at the contact. “And how will I know if it’s good?” he asks, mischief glinting in his eye.
“You’ll know —” Felix grits out again, the sensation of Dimitri’s fingertips idly drawing circles on his inner thigh catching the words in his throat. “If — if it’s good. Unless you’re an idiot.”
“You’ve called me worse.” Dimitri’s hand brushes across Felix’s waist, then a bit lower, and — Felix jolts, his eyes squinting shut again at the sudden flush of sensation. “Felix,” Dimitri’s voice calls to him, and Felix sucks in a breath. “I want you to watch.”
“Why?” Felix croaks. “Dimitri, just — ugh, you’re teasing me. Just — do whatever you’re going to —”
A hard press of lips against his own snaps his eyes open out of shock, and Felix can now see that Dimitri is smirking against his mouth. He pulls back still grinning, and Felix realizes with creeping dread that as his own embarrassment grows, Dimitri too gains a newfound confidence.
In his current state, a fully confident Dimitri may actually quash what little dignity he has left for good.
“I don’t want you to hide from me,” Dimitri murmurs almost shyly, and Felix wants to hide behind the shutters of his eyelids more than ever.
The man’s hand is still splayed below his belt, and it now again comes to life, kneading him at an agonizingly slow pace. Felix’s hands curl into fists, nails biting into his own palms. “You’re just going to leave — my clothes —” His staggered words are interrupted by swells of sensation in and out like the tide as Dimitri touches him, irregular but concentrated. “...On?” he finally manages through clenched teeth.
Dimitri pauses in his motions, gaze locking with Felix’s as he purses his lips. “Would you have me wait?” Felix shakes his head too quickly, and Dimitri chuckles, fluttering his eyelashes as he blinks. “You’re eager,” he remarks, which gets Felix to bark out an incredulous laugh, not fully believing this side of himself. Dimitri just shakes his head with amusement and resumes his too-gentle, too-delicate strokes through the fabric of Felix’s clothes. For once, Felix would almost prefer for him to be his typical graceless self.
“Weak,” Felix spits out, and Dimitri’s arched eyebrow is an immediate indicator he understands.
Dimitri’s rhythm accelerates; Felix gasps, and shuts his eyes — and opens them again, recalling Dimitri’s request in a haze. The other’s expression is almost endearingly serious, brow furrowed with concentration and lips pressed together in a tight line. Dimitri looks up for a beat to meet his gaze and pauses, smiling gently, and warmth washes over Felix, a mixture of arousal and fondness that he wants to burn into his memory forever.
Perhaps keeping his eyes open had not been so terrible after all.
“Why —” Did you stop, Felix thinks but can’t choke out. But Dimitri’s moving again, and Felix wonders hysterically if he had actually paused at all, or if his own mind had slowed just to draw out Dimitri’s expression and torment him further.
It’s an unusually drawn out caress that does it, Dimitri’s fingers dragging almost reverently across him, and Felix gasps, one hand reaching up and hooking around Dimitri’s back to steady himself. His trembling nails dig into the fabric of Dimitri’s undershirt as sensation cascades through him, and this time he really does have to squeeze his eyes shut, one last desperate moan escaping past his defenses.
Dimitri leans forward, palm still pressed against him and lips skimming the side of his face as he speaks in a low murmur. “You were right. I did know when it was good.”
Felix blinks his eyes open upon hearing Dimitri’s voice, realizing with confusion that it has already become a reflex just with a bit of coaxing. “Well, good,” he mutters lamely. “And get that stupid grin off your face, you — you —”
That stupid grin is a soft smile of pure adoration, and Felix’s words die in his throat.
“Thank you for… looking,” Dimitri whispers, breath warm against Felix’s cheek. “So you know… how I feel.”
Embarrassment melts through him, but this time Felix doesn’t mind, tilting the angle of his neck so Dimitri’s mouth brushes against his own.
“This time,” Felix murmurs against his lips. “You better look at me.”
“Of course,” Dimitri says, and then again, softer. “Of course.”
And he does, of course.