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| You swear you can hear the coliseum roaring in your chest. |
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Post by DMITRI ALEXANDROV on Jan 15, 2014 19:05:49 GMT
He doesn't even seem to notice as his fingers tap along the rosary, the one hanging from his neck. It was his fathers, old and true. Silver. It was essentially drunk on prayers, on such holy prominence (self prominence, that your prayers were worthy.) "Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner." he repeats this a few more times as his fingers tick down the rosary. At the end of the count he lets it hang back down, fingers digging in his pocket for a cigarette. Would you be forgiven for this sin, he asked himself the entire walk.
How many times had you done this now, he asked a different question. Breathing out the smoke, he thought back to the rosary. As if it was some holy shield. As if it promised to avert God's eyes to your sinful nature; as long as you prayed. As long as you were faithful; as long as you're a good boy his father's voice said. He huffed at the very notion, but he strived for it. Even though he wouldn't admit it, he wanted to be a good boy. Tail wagging, a big smile; be proud of me, his body would quiver at the thought.
But every single time he'd seem to lose his words. When Angel was pressed up against them, they'd be gone. Sacrilegiously, Angel would become just that. An angel, though not in it's true form. You bite your prayers into his skin he berated himself, a sinner, nothing more. Father would disown you, and mother? She'd look down in shame, in self pity, for she'd be losing a second child. As if he had ever truly been a model child. But that was up for debate, wasn't it? With a sigh he leaned up against the familiar corner store glass and waited.
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demigod
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| we were raised kings of nowhere |
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Post by ANGEL ALESSI on Jan 15, 2014 20:09:51 GMT
Technically, they're dating - Angel accepts Nevada's credit cards and compliments, but he wriggles into his haute couture and spritzes himself with fancy perfumes to go out with other men. It isn't cheating - not if Nevada knows about it, though he might not acknowledge it. It wasn't cheating as he crossed the street in his kitten heels with swinging hips and a sultry smile.
He picked Dmitri out of the crowd easily - tall, dark and still against the passing people. Angel came up beside him, standing on his toes to reach up and pluck the cigarette from his lips. "Privet." He purred, helping himself to a drag, blowing smoke through painted lips.
DMITRI ALEXANDROV
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mortal
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| You swear you can hear the coliseum roaring in your chest. |
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Post by DMITRI ALEXANDROV on Jan 15, 2014 20:33:54 GMT
He couldn't help but smile at the greeting, at the small fact that the blonde had been paying attention when he tried teaching him a phrase here or there. Even though his cigarette had been plucked from his lips. "Privet," he replied, eyes already drifting over Angel's outfit. He moved in front of Angel, his hands resting on his sides now; just looking down at him as he smoked. Boys weren't suppose to be beautiful, or so he'd been raised to believe so. But he did, and at the same time, he didn't.
Towering over him was nice, he thought. That feeling of power, just the fact he could engulf him so easily. Forgive me father for I have sinned. Silently he just ran his hands up and down Angel's sides before grabbing him and hauling up by his thighs. "My place or yours?" he asked before giving Angel a quick kiss; his accent was thick now, as it usually was when he spoke such ways to Angel. Those who sinned took in their sins heavily, it would seem. The people passing by didn't even bat an eye, most people on the island had heard of Angel. This was nothing new.
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demigod
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| we were raised kings of nowhere |
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Post by ANGEL ALESSI on Jan 15, 2014 20:58:58 GMT
Angel gave a satisfied grin, feeling Dmitri's eyes drifting over his body. He was only getting dressed up to be undressed later, but it seemed worth it when Dmitri drank him in and ran his hands down his sides.
Russian sounded like a harsh language to Angel, and even English words were hewn a rougher shape in the accent. It was different from Nevada's gentle tone and sweet words - it was more what Angel was used to.
He let out a little shriek when Dmitri picked him up, as easily as if he were a doll. The cigarette fell from between his fingers with the surprise, and instead he linked his hands behind Dmitri's neck, leaning in for the kiss. "Yours." He replied. Nevada was home. Angel let a hand drift up, feeling the hairs at the nape of his neck as he leaned in, chin practically resting on Dmitri's shoulder to whisper his secrets. "You should see what I got on underneath."
DMITRI ALEXANDROV
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mortal
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| You swear you can hear the coliseum roaring in your chest. |
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Post by DMITRI ALEXANDROV on Jan 15, 2014 22:26:08 GMT
That little shriek made his smile even wider as he kissed him, the grip on him tightening as his hands.. Oh his lovely hands draped around his neck. Right now, he was your little Angel, Dmitri thought. He was what you prayed to in the night, soft whispers of God's name. Right now he didn't even want to move. He wanted to just stay right here with Angel held against him, the taste of smoke on his lips. (He looked like a starving animal, ready to tear out Angel's throat. He was so hungry.)
Angel always had been a tease, crude, just like him. Dmitri leaned in and nipped his ear gently, "Don't tempt me, you know I'll fuck you right here, in front of all these people." he said, his words were a warning and sounded a bit harsh; but they were meant with the best of intentions. Biting his lower lip, he placed Angel back on the ground, but not before squeezing his ass. "Ангел мой" he said, grabbing Angel's hand as he began to walk down the street. Towards his tiny apartment, back to his bed. Though at this point, he knew all too well Angel would be stripped before the front door.
Hallowed be thy name, his fingers twitched. He had to stop himself from grabbing the rosary around his neck again.
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demigod
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| we were raised kings of nowhere |
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Post by ANGEL ALESSI on Jan 16, 2014 0:45:13 GMT
Angel could almost picture it, Dmitri's threat, and the husky whisper sent shivers down his spine in the best possible way, and he wriggled in his hold.
Maybe he'd get bored of him eventually, move on to somebody else, but for now Dmitri was novel and electrifying, and Angel didn't protest when he was set back onto his feet, giggling and swatting playfully at the hand on his ass before they linked their fingers together and started walking.
Angel glanced over at Dmitri, who towered over him, made him feel delicate beside him. He gave a coy grin, shrugging off a sleeve of his dress to reveal a pale shoulder, the contour of his clavicle.
He watched the rosary around Dmitri's neck swaying slightly, and on impulse he reached out to catch it in the palm of his hand, examine the crucifix, fingering the beads. Angel would have never taken him for religious, not after what they did, but then again - what did Angel know about god? He was just a whore, he was going to hell. All he knew was it was pretty. It looked expensive.
DMITRI ALEXANDROV
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mortal
with 58 posts
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| You swear you can hear the coliseum roaring in your chest. |
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Post by DMITRI ALEXANDROV on Jan 17, 2014 1:51:45 GMT
It was strange holding Angel's hand, smiling down at the blonde. It unraveled all of his childhood teachings, and it made him happy. In an instant his eyes caught the sleeve slip down.. His skin was always lovely, lovely. "Such a tease." he growled. A word not to be used for other men, nor beautiful. But here he stood, holding his hand, smiling. Smiling was probably the worst part of this whole thing. It gave away that, God, he felt in the right place.
He need to stop this habit. This habit of repeating prayers in his head until he felt sick. It was tiresome he thought, but his eyes never left Angel. Without a thought his hand had grabbed Angel's wrist, a lot harder then he'd meant to, but it didn't matter. They'd stopped walking for a few seconds and his eyes narrowed, his smile dropped. "No one touches this, you understand?" he said angrily. It was a warning more than anything.
Only his soiled hands were allowed to touch. That's how it had always been, always would be.
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demigod
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| we were raised kings of nowhere |
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Post by ANGEL ALESSI on Jan 17, 2014 2:35:39 GMT
Dmitri was strong, imposing - intimidating when they'd first met, but now there was a certain comfort in it, a feeling of security with Angel's hand clasped in his. It was surprising how quickly he could go from feeling protected to threatened.
He didn't even have the time to point out that he wasn't a tease if he was putting out - there was a hand on his wrist, painfully tight. Angel wasn't easily frightened, but he stared up at Dmitri with wide eyes, caught off guard by the unexpected reaction - he'd only wanted to admire it.
Brow furrowed, he tried to twist his arm free, nodding fervently in hopes that he would let go. "Okay, okay." Angel whimpered, still not sure what exactly he'd done. "You're hurting me."
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mortal
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| You swear you can hear the coliseum roaring in your chest. |
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Post by DMITRI ALEXANDROV on Jan 17, 2014 11:38:19 GMT
Against him, Angel was just a deer in the headlights - looking up at him with frightened eyes. For a second, he felt bad, even a little ashamed of himself. It was unusual for him, but there it was. You're hurting me. Dmitri instantly looked ashamed as he let go on Angel's wrist. He knew he'd grabbed him just a bit too hard, but he always thought just a bit. I'm sorry I hit you so hard. he thought, this wasn't anything new. Maybe if you didn't piss me off. was what usually followed after. But that was with anyone else, not Angel. Not at the moment anyway.
He held Angel's hand once more and continued walking. "...Sorry." he said. It sounded empty, flat, even though he meant it. This time, at least. Next time he probably wouldn't, or the time after that. It always went on this way; he'd yet to hit Angel.
What is he to you? was a fair question. Dmitri didn't have the answer. He didn't want to be able to answer, himself, to God. In turn, answer to his father's expectations with a red mark.
Maybe he'd explain the rosary to Angel, and he'd understand. Maybe.
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demigod
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| we were raised kings of nowhere |
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Post by ANGEL ALESSI on Jan 17, 2014 23:24:26 GMT
Angel pulled his hand back as soon as Dmitri let go, letting the rosary drop and inspecting his wrist - no real damage had been done, except for perhaps to his mood.
Not that he wasn't used to being treated harshly. It was the only way he listened, Angel who liked to simper and flirt his way out of everything. Though as of late the worst he got was a stern word from Nevada, who he didn't listen to anyways. Nevada never got that look in his eyes though - the dangerous one that flashed in Dmitri's eyes before he seemed sorry.
Angel took Dmitri's hand again, but averted his eyes. Pouted and sulked because it was the way he did things - melodramatically, so Dmitri knew he had to make it up to him now.
DMITRI ALEXANDROV
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mortal
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| You swear you can hear the coliseum roaring in your chest. |
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Post by DMITRI ALEXANDROV on Jan 19, 2014 22:17:52 GMT
Dmitri huffed at Angel's pouting, he should've known that didn't work with him. It never really had. He might as well indulge him, Dmitri thought. With no warning he'd swept Angel up off the sidewalk and into his arms, bridal style. Offering Angel his sincerest smile he just looked down at him while he continued walking. Remember, Angel, I'm bigger than you. He couldn't help but think it, it was how he was; controlling.
It was the main reason he'd scooped Angel up. Without effort, don't pull shit with him. It wouldn't go well. But right now he was sincere, even with those secondary thoughts. "Going to keep pouting like a little kotenok?" he asked, his grip on Angel tightening. He cared about Angel, sure enough, but he wouldn't admit it. He cared. For now.
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demigod
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| we were raised kings of nowhere |
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Post by ANGEL ALESSI on Jan 20, 2014 0:00:49 GMT
He watched Dmitri from the corner of his eye, pretending like he wasn't. He was still caught by surprise, crying out again in that moment his feet left the ground, kicking his legs a little before he felt the solidity of Dmitri's arms beneath him.
If he should have felt threatened, he didn't. He felt like a princess being carried off by prince charming, though even that thought occurred to him as a sardonic parody. He was a princess being carried off by prince charming to fuck like animals in his royal castle. He bit his lip to keep back the grin that threatened to ruin his pouting facade.
He draped an arm over Dmitri's shoulders, and rolled his eyes. "Maybe." Angel said, though the smile was beginning to break through, and he leaned in for a kiss before Dmitri could notice it.
DMITRI ALEXANDROV
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mortal
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| You swear you can hear the coliseum roaring in your chest. |
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Post by DMITRI ALEXANDROV on Jan 20, 2014 4:43:23 GMT
It was hard not to notice that in some ways, the tiniest little ways, Angel was just that. Sometimes looking down on him, Dmitri forgot of the sin that he drowned in; that he himself took drink of. He leaned into the kiss, and he licked Angel's lips gently before pulling away. "I saw that." he grinned, speaking of the little smile Angel had tried to hide so desperately. Dmitri liked to think he knew Angel, that he knew what was really beneath that dress, his skin.
In truth he liked to think that Angel cared about him, too. The boy who made him forsake his rosary's prayers and lie to his parents. With regret, of course, but regret he could so easily shove away when Angel was right there.
His apartment building was only a few feet away now, and he shifted Angel in his arms, now holding him on one arm against him as he fumbled open the door to the stairwell. Shortly after that he had Angel against the wall, biting at his neck; always gently at first.
Gentle for a hungry animal.
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demigod
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| we were raised kings of nowhere |
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Post by ANGEL ALESSI on Jan 20, 2014 5:54:27 GMT
Angel wasn't really mad, or hurt, but he played up the frail and sweet being Dmitri pretended he was. They kissed, and the missteps didn't matter. It was all just good fun. As far as Angel was concerned.
He didn't usually keep up his affairs this long. He didn't even think it would be fair to call them that - Nevada knew perfectly well the things Angel did when he dressed up and went out, where all the hickeys came from - it wasn't a secret. But he liked Dmitri, who kissed him like he could never get enough and carried him around like he was something precious.
Even if Dmitri knew he was smiling, it was alright because he was smiling too. He didn't even put Angel down as they got to his place - Angel wrapped his legs around Dmitri's waist, held his shoulders for balance, feeling secure in his arms. Angel's back was against the wall, giving him enough room to roll his hips against Dmitri. He loved it, being unrestrained and savage, digging his nails into muscle and letting out something caught between a gasp and a giggle. The zipper of his dress dug into his back, and he felt all too aware of how dressed he was, they both were.
DMITRI ALEXANDROV
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mortal
with 58 posts
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| You swear you can hear the coliseum roaring in your chest. |
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Post by DMITRI ALEXANDROV on Jan 20, 2014 22:02:39 GMT
Dmitri took him in as if forbidden fruit, his tongue could barely leave his skin for long. As Angel's hands dug into his back is when he got savage. He bit into his neck, determined to leave marks. Bruises, but not from hitting him. Oh no, not this time. These bruises would show his love, not his anger. Though you could wonder if the two would ever be separate. He'd sinned again, his hand slipping up Angel's back and unzipping his dress; pulling it down roughly. "Lord, forgive us." he breathed into his neck, soft enough for Angel not to hear. But loud enough for him to forgive himself, if only for now. This was usually how it went. Shotgun prayers to offset the guilt, and it worked sure enough.
Angel was naked against the wall, and Dmitri's pants dropped to the floor. They hadn't even made it up the stairs, but he could care less. He was already inside of Angel, and long before they were done he caught himself whispering I love you into his golden hair. Such a fool. To love a harlot with a crown of thorns and nicotine skin, whose tongue burnt with the fire of liars and tasted of vodka.
He loved him, and in the morning he'd tell Angel all about the rosary around his neck.
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