Chapter Text
A faint knock could be heard from Daniil’s bedroom door. Peter.
“You may come in.”
Daniil turns away from his book to face the man, who came shuffling in, toting a few bags on his shoulder and luggage on his back.
“Where are you headed? I'm a bit surprised to see you up and about this early in the day.”
Peter releases an annoyed sigh.
“Our professor wants the class to attend some sort of exhibition. Any other time I would elect to stay home, but he is making a note of who attends and who does not, and I have missed a bit of lectures. Admittedly, I am excited for the event, though," he murmurs.
Daniil begins to chuckle in response, flashing Peter a cheeky grin.
“A bit? That is an understatement, isn't it? I'm surprised he hasn’t suggested you drop his course yet.”
Beginning with an eye roll, Peter then says, “I believe the old bastard is maybe feeling generous. But I am not complaining. Either way, I am leaving today and won’t be returning until next Tuesday morning.”
Daniil gives him a surprised expression, thick, dark brows shooting up his forehead.
“Tuesday? My god, why so long?”
Peter shrugs. “More than anything I believe he wants to enjoy the time away from campus. The university has elected to cover travel expenses and provided an allowance to feed us as well as admission to the various exhibitions. It is most likely a networking opportunity more than anything else. I am looking forward to the locomotive ride; supposedly, we are riding in a private car. However, I’ll believe it when I see it for myself.”
Daniil nods in understanding. This would be good for Peter to venture away from campus and get some air away from his stuffy room. Or hovel. Daniil wasn’t exactly complaining either; he wanted more peace and quiet and an opportunity to work without distractions. Hmm...Distractions...
“Will Andrey be tagging along?”
“No, thankfully, this is not the class we share. Had he come, he would be bored out of his skull.” he pauses, “If you are asking if you have the apartment to yourself, I would assume so. Knowing old boy,, he probably already has some fun planned. Whatever that means. While I am away, I will bring back fruit for your stag.”
Daniil crosses his arms and whips his head to the side, feigning annoyance.
“She is not just a stag; her name is Pumpkin. But I would greatly appreciate it; she gets bored of dried plums, I'm sure.”
With that, he waves Peter goodbye and retreats to his work desk, reviewing his studies.
Andrey was not a bad housemate. Most of the time anyway. On the weekends, he would swing the front door open, inebriated, stumbling across the apartment to find his bedpost. Occasionally he would stomp around towards Daniil’s room, either passing out in his bed or bothering Daniil with his ramblings. It wasn’t so bad; Daniil found it entertaining. Mostly. What he did not like was being privy to what Peter referred to as Andrey’s sexcapades. Unfortunately, Andrey’s bedroom was parallel to his own, while Peter’s was across the apartment on the complete opposite side. The walls were thin. Very thin. It is to be expected from a unit of this age, but with what they were shelling out each month, it could have been much better. Men, women, sometimes even pairs—Andrey would bring someone home nearly every weekend in his freshman year. These days Andrey didn’t bring much of anyone home, but never had an difficulties finding a willing partner. Daniil couldn’t fathom even knowing so many people, let alone having sex with them. He wasn’t jealous or anything.
They were fortunate to be attending a university with such a robust hospital. Although Daniil considered Andrey’s behavior to be risky and promiscuous, he could appreciate the fact that Andrey went to the clinic regularly for checkups and arsphenamines. Medical advancements were being ushered to the public at an unprecedented rate. Recently, latex condoms had finally been imported from Germany, which Andrey kept an arsenal in his nightstand. Good to know he was being aware. Not that Daniil cared. He doesn’t care.
Obviously.
After a few hours of revising and reviewing samples, Daniil decided to finish up once his mind began to wander away from his material.
What should I make for dinner? Oh right, Peter made leftovers... Will Andrey want something to eat? … Oh, good lord, why do I care…He’s probably out tonight with some girl, making her swoon. He can feed himself…!
With that, Daniil rises from his chair and makes his way to the kitchenette, preparing leftovers on the gas stove. After finishing his meal and cleaning up, Daniil beelines his way back into his room. With Peter gone and Andrey out and about, this left him with a great deal of free time. Most of his trials had been completed, and the remaining bacteria slides wouldn’t be ready for another few days. What a boring weekend! Perfect Daniil thought to himself.
For a few hours, he had taken up organizing his desk space and cleaning his oil lamps, mostly piddling around. After a good while, Daniil looked up towards his window and noticed the sun beginning to set behind the other apartments. His hands were covered in soot and oil, staining his skin. He lifted himself up and strode towards the washroom, divesting himself to prepare for his bath. Slowly, he sank into the warm, silky water.
Daniil had always been meticulous about his hygiene routine. Not that Peter and Andrey weren’t. It’s just that Daniil’s was on another level, according to Andrey. Daniil realizes that, while yes, he does enjoy his prim and proper appearance, he is aware that this was instilled in him as a child by his mother.
“Danila, girls don’t walk like that. Danila! You are a young lady; act like it! My god, look at that hair. You are a mess. How are we supposed to find you a suitable husband when you walk around like some kind of…Man!”
Good god, he can hear her voice reverberate in his skull.
Andrey would sometimes tell him that if he stared in the mirror any longer, he would fall into his reflection and drown. But Andrey would be the same person who would complement his cologne, offer to iron his shirts, and even bring him into a back hug just to sneak a whiff of Daniil’s conditioner.
After soaking until the water begins to cool, he lifts himself out of the bath to continue his nighttime routine. He then slips into his drawers and sleep shirt, crawling into his bed beneath his blankets. Reaching for his nightstand, he lights his oil lamp and takes his pellets, following them with a swig of water. He takes up his bedside book and begins to read.
Dixit et eliso pertussis aere pennis inpiger umbrosa Parnasi constitit—
Dixit et eliso pertussis aere pennis inpiger…What?
Dixit et eliso pertussis aere pennis inpiger umbro..
Dixit et e-eliso pertussis aere pe-pen-Oh what the hell!
Daniil sighs in frustration and snaps his book shut, setting it next to him on the bed. He then reaches over, turning the oil lamp down, diminishing the orange glow illuminating the room, a cool, soft moonlight replacing it. He slinks back into his covers, throwing his arm over his eyes. Maybe I just need some rest…
He turns to his side and sets his cheek into his palm before turning over again, then finally just settling on his back, just as he did in the beginning. He releases a harsh stream of air out of his nose. This had been an exact reenactment of many nights before. His mind starts to swell with random, useless thoughts, some about the day and what he ought to do come morning. Maybe tomorrow Andrey will come to the library with him if he isn’t completely hung over.
Andrey…
This was another repeat of many nights that came before. Daniil would mull over his thoughts before landing on the subject of Andrey. Once that happened, Daniil would try his best to shift to something else. But it would always return to that. And each time it came back, a warm feeling would flood his cheeks, traveling down his chest, then finally settling itself deep in his belly. A rolling heat pools itself into his abdomen, creating a nagging pressure in his groin.
Daniil always feels guilty about fantasizing about his friend, or really masturbation in general. He knows it’s wrong and frankly disgusting. But the temptation typically wins him over. And it seems to be winning right now. Thoughts of Andrey in the nude, during sex, or anything really, start to flood his mind. Andrey sometimes waltzes around the unit in just a towel after bathing. Daniil would scoff and turn his back, mumbling something like, “Put on a damn shirt… Animal...”. In secret, however, Daniil would sneak a glimpse down his navel, his eyes leading him to his friend’s impressive bulge. He didn’t mean to look, really, but how could you not? Andrey’s body was fit but still soft, from drinking, most likely. Little scars and moles were scattered throughout his torso, some fresher than others. Water droplets fell from his fringe onto his chest, rolling down to circle a nipple. God, why do you do this to me? Torture…!
He moves his hand to his chest, lightly tweaking a hardening nipple. His other hand makes its way down the valley of his stomach, pausing at his waistband. Would Andrey be so gentle? So generous to give Daniil what he wants?
Daniil hears how Andrey pulls moans from his partners; he hears the rapping of the headboard on the wall; he hears how he makes them plead and sob. Daniil doesn’t hate hearing it because it’s disgusting, and frankly, it is. He hates it because he wishes to be the center of Andrey’s ministrations.
Would he touch me just the same? Would he whisper the same sweet nothings into the shell of Daniil’s ear?
Daniil finally dips his hand into his waistband, slotting his fingers on either side of his prick. His left hand tugs at his nipple, imagining Andrey doing it instead of himself. After a few minutes of this, he shucks down his drawers and brings his knees to his chest to slip them down, throwing them into his laundry hamper. He moves both hands below, one focusing on moving in tight circles around his dick and the other slipping a few fingers inside. Daniil does this for a few minutes, stifling his moans, enduring his own onslaught. He then slips out a groan and snaps his palm to cover his mouth. Wait. No one is home to hear me. He laughs softly to himself and continues his actions, allowing for that simmering heat to transform into a rolling boil, radiating across his body. His mind begins to conjure up fantasies, some involving Andrey being a caring aid and others letting Andrey play an intense, domineering role. He hopes to himself Andrey would be so rough with him.
Daniil is not ignorant of what goes on behind closed doors. As a young adolescent, he was much too focused on his studies to even consider accepting anyone’s advances. Plenty of young men had their eyes set on him, but Daniil knew none of them would wholly see him as he envisioned himself. He had only kissed one man, chastely at that. He hadn’t even known him too well—just somebody to kiss at the Kremlyovskiye chasy. He mostly chalked it up to liquid courage.
But sex was something that he had avoided. He didn’t feel like explaining himself or risking being discovered, then subsequently humiliated. He was happy to meet Peter when he did. Peter is a man like him, except he is more open about it. While Peter would stride across the house in a loose undershirt, Daniil couldn’t bear the thought of someone noticing the slope on his chest, even if it was small.
When Daniil started to take his synthesized pellets, his libido skyrocketed to a maddening level. He could typically will it away, but since sharing a place with not just Peter but now Andrey, it has been insufferable. At times, when Andrey would walk past him, that spicy clove scent filling his head, he would immediately swell with arousal. He was ashamed of it and would never admit it aloud. He’s never had anyone set him off like this since being on his medication. He thinks of that heady scent and moves his hand faster around his cock. His breath starts to catch in his throat, suppressing a pathetic cry. His body sings with pleasure, grateful for his own worship. He pictures Andrey looming over him, throwing him around like a child would a doll. Andrey was only slightly taller than Daniil but possessed a daunting strength. Close. Close. Close…!
He can feel the telltale squeezing, his body desperately gripping something that wasn’t there. Before he’s pushed over, he quickly retracts his hand, waiting for the thrumming of his pulse to wane. He lets out a breath he had not realized he was holding and relaxes his taught muscles. And then he repeats this game, chanting Andrey’s name in an almost desperate prayer, his voice going from a low murmur to a chain of pleading wails.
Andrey faces the door of the apartment, shuffling around in search of his keys in his coat pocket. It’s one thing to not have my parcel and tell me to go home, but to lie to my fucking face about it! Andrey had been waiting for a special order of drawing pencils for himself, along with Gamsol for Peter. He hoped to deliver it to him before he left that afternoon, but clearly, he didn’t. The week prior, the clerk informed Andrey that his order would arrive by this afternoon, so he figured he would wait after class to make his way there. Once he arrived, the clerk informed him it really wouldn’t be there another week. Oh, but of course. Typically, Andrey would have given him an earful, but after taking nearly an hour to get there, he didn’t have it in him. It wasn’t the shop's fault anyway. Finally, he takes his keys out of his pockets, turning them and pushing forward to give way to the door.
He toes off his shoes and turns towards the icebox, searching for anything to snack on. Andrey just grabs some of Pumpkin’s plums, sinking his teeth into the tender flesh without a second thought. Daniil would gripe about it later, but to Andrey, it didn’t make sense to buy all that fruit for some stag beetle Daniil found outside. He sucks the fruit off of the pit before spitting it out into the trash.
Andrey makes his way towards Daniil’s room to rant about the parcel debacle and ask him if he ate already. It wasn’t really all that late, so Daniil could placate Andrey for about an hour. Andrey, per usual, pushes the door to Daniil’s room without much care and doesn’t wait to start talking. He had just heard him say his name, so it wasn’t like he would be surprising him.
“Danya, I wish you were with me today; can you belie..”
Andrey lifts his head to witness the sight in front of him. And what a sight it was. Daniil’s legs spread out, with fingers buried inside him and one hand grabbing his breast. If Daniil wasn’t flushed before, he definitely is now. He meets Andrey’s shocked expression and snatches his blanket to cover himself.
“Uhm, s-sorry.. I..uh”
“Get out. Now.”
“I thought I heard my name, so I came in-“
“Leave Andrey!”
Andrey turns on his heels and makes his way out as fast as possible, slamming the door behind him. He runs into his room and begins to process what just happened. His face blazes in embarrassment, a flush rising to his cheeks. He sits on his bedside, placing his hands on his knees, and sighs, relaxing his shoulders. Fuck, why did I do that? I should apologize.. I can’t go in there now… The image of Daniil stuffing himself, wetting his thighs, and moaning freely won’t leave Andrey’s mind. Suddenly, the idea of Daniil stretched around his cock is at the forefront of his mind. Andrey feels the strain of it pushing up against his zipper. Goddamnit.
Andrey had a tender sentiment when it came to Daniil. He was an inspiration and probably one of the hardest-working people Andrey knew. A bit of a tight ass but could let loose once in a great while. Andrey would love to see him truly foolhardy, but he knew it was wishful thinking. Daniil’s no saint but is as straight as an arrow, always having his head in a book or running to an oration. On top of his smarts, he was a sight for sore eyes.
Andrey would be lying to himself if he said he’d never thought about Daniil in a more than friendly way. On multiple occasions. In fact, Daniil was the star of his nightly fantasies. Sure, the men and women Andrey would entertain were fun, but they were no Dankovsky. Would Daniil be noisy? Or too shy to utter a word? Does he take control or submit to Andrey’s stipulations?
By now, his dick was throbbing and full, no longer flaccid but flagged, pushing up against his confines. Good god... Andrey behave. Andrey concentrates to subdue his solid erection, allowing it to abate and soften. He lets out a shaky breath and reclines back in his bed, willing away any thoughts of Daniil. I could use a drink…
A few hours pass before Andrey decides to leave his room, taking what was probably the quickest bath of his life. He chastises himself for wasting that hot water. He walks to the kitchen to make some coffee to take back to his room. As he prepares the percolator, Daniil walks out of his room and shuffles towards Andrey, a blanket wrapped around himself and hair askew. Cute. Andrey thinks to himself.
…what the blue hell are you thinking?
“Can you make me some coffee too, please?”
"Yeah, sure, do you want it strong like normal?”
“Yes, please, if you wouldn’t mind… Thank you.”
The air was smothering. Andrey wishes he had attended that boring ass exhibition after all. He pours their coffee into two mugs and hands one to Daniil. Andrey starts up,
“Look-”
Daniil raises his hand to halt Andrey’s words.
“Just…Just please knock next time.”
“Of course.”
Daniil provides Andrey with a tender smile before taking a sip of his coffee. He reaches for the sugar cubes on the counter and adds two to his mug.
“You have such a sweet tooth! Peter is set to bring back sweets, no? If you eat too much of that stuff, that haughty smile of yours might rot…I’d miss it terribly.”
“Oh, please, I am fine; focus on that drinking habit of yours first,”
The two go on with their conversation, forgoing the previous debacle in favor of a more lighthearted conversation with simple teasing.
Both retreat back to their rooms permanently for the night. While Daniil had most likely been studying, Andrey couldn’t be bothered to. It was obvious that his heart just wasn’t set on medicine, not like Daniil was. So he opts to just slink into his covers. His mind runs wild. Normally, at a time like this, he’d walk over to Peter’s bedroom to converse with him about really anything that came to him—anything to distract him. He debates going back out into the night, drinking, and swinging by a friend for some blow. Alternatively, he could go into Daniil’s room to chat with him, but after earlier, he wasn’t even sure if he should step foot in the man’s room for a good while. Again, earlier’s scene flashes through his mind, with his memory providing a playback reel. The scene loops in his mind before he comes to a realization.
Didn’t Daniil call for me in the beginning?