Chapter Text
Ivan had learned to manage his expectations with Grindr.
It was pretty standard for the most part- people liked pictures that flattered them the most, wrote their hobbies as sports and hiking when their daily workout routine was the quick anxious sprint they made from their local Starbucks to their daily job, even though they were late anyways and the clock had shown 8:05 so no matter how impassioned their little run was, they wouldn't magically get there by 8:00 am, and their acquaintance with mountain shrubbery generally began and ended with Legend Of Zelda: Breath Of The Wild.
Ivan didn’t have it in him to mind too much on most days (Breath Of The Wild was a good game, after all) but then there were the men that used pictures from an auspicious, good-hair day back from 2003, the ones with the secret wife and kids that really only wanted some sad little wipe down in a distastefully expensive hotel and then there was the one time with the priest that had had ended… not so well.
So when this guy- ridiculously good looking in a weird way, pointy nose, deep-set eyes, cheeky smirk- all elvin features like he’d popped out of one of Shakespere’s more hilarious stories dressed in leaves, ready for a self-involved little monologue and espouse chaos for the noble couple- Ivan had assumed it was a fake.
He’d reverse searched the photo, frowned when he’d come up with nothing.
Then the first message came. Do you mind if I send you a quick survey?
Ivan had raised his eyebrow but typed quickly, ‘Sure.’
;) cool. Are you married or in an otherwise monogamous relationship?
No.
When was the last time you screened?
Last week.
Do you do drugs? (Weed doesn’t count unless its like a daily thing)
No.
Condoms?
It depends. Mostly yes.
There will be condoms. What is your favourite Taylor Swift song?
Ivan stared.
Evermore.
Ah, sad boi core. We can work with that. Dogs or cats?
Their conversations had evolved from there into something a lot more flirty and casual. Gilbert had a very elaborate meme library at his disposal and a very strange propensity for the most ugly stickers. Ivan had once ventured as far as to ask what’re you wearing? And Gilbert’s response had been lightening fast. Him in cat ears, dark grey hoodie, smiling into the camera, cute. Ivan had assumed that was it and was satisfied with that (he didn’t want to push too far, not with the one guy on Grindr whose conversations lasted longer than 45 minutes and didn’t consist of one word responses) but then Gilbert had sent another picture.
His red eyes lidded and looking seductively into the camera, three fingers crammed delicately in his mouth, sucking.
Oh.
They’d had an impromptu jack-off session, a heady, reckless erotic moment where the air seemed too hot and Ivan’s own fingers seemed woefully inadequate when he’d seen Gil’s own lips so prettily parted.
They’d decided on a date fast enough. Gilbert would host.
It’s just sex, Gilbert had added suddenly, I’m not here for like a relationship or anything. It says so on my profile. I already have a husband.
Ivan had felt punched in the gut. Any fantasy he’d harborbed of a suburban house, a honeymoon in Vienna and gratuitous blowjobs suddenly vanished.
Right.
A pause.
Do you want him to join? A threesome might be fun. I don’t want 2 pressure u tho. Totally good with 1 on 1.
Sure.
Ivan hadn’t thought much of it at the time- still reeling from the fact that a relationship with Gil was entirely off the table.
And when he’d knocked on the door, a bundle of strange nerves as he stood on the steps that cool autumn night. Of course Gilbert lived in a ridiculously rich neighbourhood with elaborate tier gardens and a fucking swimming pool. This was a man made of fairy-tale eccentricities.
He rubbed his hands together, more out of anxiety than because of the cold. What would Gil say when he saw him? Maybe this was the wrong address? A prank? An elaborate cosmic joke?
Then the door had opened and Not-Gilbert stood at the door. Ivan had to do a double take. The man standing before him- 6”2, chiseled jawline, pressed black suit- was a conservative wet dream. The man seemed to look him up and down wearily and Ivan suddenly felt very, very naked.
He opened his mouth to apologize, to explain that he’d gotten the house wrong and had actually come for completely heterosexual reasons but the man’s voice cut him off, “You’re Ivan?” He sounded utterly unimpressed, this man made of stone.
Ivan was too relieved to feel insulted, “y-yeah. That’s me-”
Ludwig opened the door for him, polite, “Come in. Gilbert’s feeling a bit under the weather today so we’re going to have to accommodate him I’m afraid.”
His voice was a silky, dark baritone, perfect for audiobooks and supreme court rulings.
Ivan wondered what he sounded like in b-
Gilbert was sitting on a couch, and the sight of him, earthly, real, in a silly woolen red sweater, was comforting. A siamese cat hissed up at Ivan from her vantage point in Gil’s lap, and Gil grinned sheepishly.
“Sorry, I know you picked dogs and so did I but my friend Eliza dropped her cats off for sitting purposes for a week and I just couldn’t say no- look at how perfect she is!”
Ludwig grabbed the cat before it could proceed to scratch up Gil’s face for overactive petting, “Gilbert, you’re allergic. How many times have we been over this? You can admire Fluffy from afar.”
“Some things are worth the sacrifice,” Gilbert insisted, as Ludwig gently released the cat onto a new carpet, where it proceeded to permanently leave white scars all over the mahogany brown couch legs. Gilbert ignored Ludwig’s pained face to look up at Ivan slyly, “Are you nervous?”
Ivan regarded Fluffy and her very sharp claws wearily, “Only slightly. I don’t do this often.”
Gilbert let out a bark of laughter and tugged Ludwig down to crawl into his lap. Ivan was slightly in awe that the gargantuan man obeyed. He looked like he’d walked straight out of a Downton Abbey shoot and that any wrinkling to his clothes would cause a stroke.
“It’s the house, isn’t it?” Gilbert hummed contemplatively, leaning his head on Lud’s shoulder, “It's intimidating. I keep telling Ludwig we should bulldoze the entire third floor. All houses with third floors are pretentious as fuck.”
“Last time I checked, bulldozers don’t operate on aerial levels,” Ludwig told him gently, rubbing his knuckles across the dip of Gil’s back.
They worked well together, in a strange congruent fashion. It made Ivan feel terribly lonely. But also ridiculously horny- he’d come here with a purpose, afterall. If he was going to be the third party at the end of it, it fit that the other two looked like they belonged in an expensive porno- or something more classy, maybe. An erotic french film about two men confronting their own sexuality, with phislophical quips in between the artiscally brutal 40 minute sex scenes and uncensored 6-inch-penises.
He wanted desperately to know what Gilbert looked like naked, his body twisting in all sorts of positions, and he wanted to know how Ludwig looked, twisting with him.
“We met at this upscale party. I stole an invite from one of my clients, of course-”
“I’m not sure advertising your pickpocketing skills is how you want to start this meeting, Gilbert.”
“Us proletarians have a language, okay. You wouldn’t understand, Ludwig. Anyways, don’t interrupt me, its bad manners- so I basically crashed the party but that doesn’t really matter, because it was a bunch of upscale snobs anyways and I bet half the dates there were paid to be there. I had two objectives in mind when I came; to fuck a rich, dilfy investor and to consume as much expensive cheese as my intestines could stand.”
“A valiant plan,” Ludwig commented, pinching Gil’s cheek as he squirmed in his grasp.
“Lutzzzzz, let me speak- anyways, Ludwig was neither an investor nor was he…. I mean, he had a dad-vibe even back then, I suppose. At first I thought he was a disgusting hetero-straight trying to make fun of me but then I ended up throwing up chardonnay in the bathroom, and he didn’t laugh or-or leave or anything, he took me home, in fact, after making sure I was okay and cleaning up after me and using his tissues- Ludwig has so many tissues all the time - and as he was tucking me in bed, I decided that I needed to fuck this guy. So I stole his phone.”
“Please do not take dating advice from this man.” Ludwig deadpanned in amused exasperation towards Ivan, “As you can see my dating standards are woefully bizarre.”
Ivan nodded through this. So maybe Gil was slightly weirder than he had initially let on- but Ivan had his own weird, problematic streaks (he didn’t want to begin to talk about that weird friends-with-benefits he’d had with Yao once) and to say that he wasn’t a little attracted to the chaos would be a lie.
“Ludwig said we should give you dinner,” Gil wrinkled his nose, “But I said considering what we were planning that dinner might be an occupational hazard.” Ludwig began coughing loudly, face red, “So we’ll do that after.”
Ivan considered curiously, “So Ludwig was the one who insisted on the survey.”
“Ridiculous, wasn’t it? I told Ludwig, if you send this to people on Grindr 3/4th will not respond and the 1/4th that will probably has an authoritarian kink. Which isn’t bad - by the way, I personally have absolutely no compunctions with you nutting in my mouth-ow, ow, ow, Lutzzzz.”
“We don’t need to add STD to our growing list of problems,” Ludwig said firmly, “No offense.”
Ivan raised an eyebrow: how was he supposed to not take offense to that? He rolled his eyes slightly at Ludwig as they led him to the bedroom. The rest of the house was the same as the foyer; rich looking. It wasn’t extravagant per se- and he could see clearly where Gil’s claims had been laid (a few colourful portraits of dancing mice and cats in hats and dogs in suits signed with Gilbert’s name, a handful of books Ivan couldn’t imagine Lud owning) in between the darkwood and waisincoating and gold tinted decor.
Ivan kept glancing at the two as they walked, Ludwig as rigid as a tree and Gil hanging off of him like a vine. Ivan couldn’t quite grasp their dynamic- they fit together so well, and Ivan didn’t miss the way Ludwig’s hand possessively settled on Gil’s hip as they walked; so why was Ivan here?
Something simmered under the surface, a miasma that permeated their otherwise picture-perfect relationship. Gil had been the one to ask him here, and despite Ludwig’s obdurate demeanor, Ivan could tell even now that all Gil really had to do was pout a bit for him to agree to most things.
None of these observations stifled the mounting excitement in his stomach, though. Every step was another step closer.
Their own room was big but casual. Gilbert clearly had more influence here.
The most eyecatching thing though, was the bed; larger than King Size which Ivan hadn’t even known was possible. There were scratches and hand prints on the wall above the headboard (and were those, Ivan wondered with an odd twist of the stomach, teeth marks?) and a place where the headboard had clearly bumped into the plater one too many times.
These guys. Fucked.
Ivan wondered how the marks had manifested- had Gil been cheeky and ridden Ludwig, sitting on his cock and biting into the hardwood to prevent himself from screaming out as he climaxed. Or had Ludwig pushed him against the headboard, taking him from behind and Gil had cllawed at it in desperation as he was fucked raw?
He’d find out soon, in any case.
Gilbert made his way to the bed, plopping down on it with a large, clumsy sigh.
Ivan watched. Ludwig watched.
Gil smiled up at them, as if he was being offered a buffet- or maybe Gil was the buffet-? He seemed to weigh the two of them like juicy apples. Which would he devour first? The denim jeans certainly looked enticing but there was that lovely familiarity of Ludwig’s pressed black trousers.
Gil crawled over to Luwig, long elegant fingers on Lud’s belt. Ivan’s stomach flipped a bit as Gil yanked down to reveal a hard, muscled ass and a cock that beat out any Ivan had seen in real life, and rivaled most of what he’d seen on his laptop screen. There was a pause then.
An amused, slightly arrogant smile played on Ludwig’s lips and Gil’s own mischievous eyes zeroing in on Ivan like he was meat. Ivan's heart raced.
Maybe Gil being married wasn't such an awful thing after all.