Rain fell in the pattern of pitter-patter and thump-thump. Puddles began to fill. The table the pink-haired boy's back was pressed into had become soft. The disgusting, deteriorating, cold kind of soft. The kind that made you want to clean yourself from the inside out and stay in the shower until dark. Because the world was covered in muck, water, the scent of cigarettes and alcohol.
The realm got sweeter. Yoonjae's quiet whimpers flew into Andrei's ears like brain fuel. Their hands around one another, Yoonjae forced down onto the soaked table top as Andrei held his hips. He clutched the small man as though his world would collapse if he let go. He breathed into Yoonjae's mouth, their tongue meeting gentler than they did. Strawberries.
Strawberries. Andrei's mind ran rampant. The strongest muscle in his body, his tongue, dug through Yoonjae. He could taste the cigarette he smoked, the earlier pasta, and Yoonjae's sports drink. Strawberries and bananas. The touch of the berry too strong to taste anything else.
Andrei cradled the back of Yoonjae's head, pulling him up and devouring him. Hungrily. The same way he sculpted, the way his fingers dug into clay dug into the fat of Yoonjae's waist. They climbed upward until his nails burned red marks. The skin, pale and soft, turned pink under him. Like strawberries.
More, more, more. Andrei mentally repeated, screeching like a mantra. Yoonjae's shirt hiked up, a thin cardigan now coated in water. His back was soaked. Andrei paused. No. No. No.
He pulled away slowly, a string of spit connecting them like the red ribbon. He blinked rapidly. As if he took some pill, or drank more than he needed.
Yoonjae pouted. Subtle, just barely noticeable if not for their lips having just touched.
"Why'd you stop?" He frowned.
Andrei huffed a small laugh, crouched over him. "You're cold."
"No, I want more."
"Later, then, sweetheart."
"You know...I see why your ex liked you."
"Wow, one kiss will make you like that? I'm only good for my body now, princess?" Andrei tipped his head to the side, voice hasty and hearty. Yoonjae shook his head.
"O-o-of course not." Yoonjae swallowed before his fingers roamed their way to Andrei's belt. Or the lack of one, to that matter. They brushed up against the Dolce&Gabbana embroidery and froze there. "You...you kn-"
"No. We aren't doing that," the older man professed, his eyes as tender as the bruises underneath his hoodie. "It's cold and wet. It's been like an hour, my brother will be on my ass."
"You...I've never had sex before."
"I thought so."
Yoonjae bit his lip, even though it was peeled from Andrei's shimmering teeth. "That's mean." He frowned. "I-do I have a vibe? I-is it because I have a vibe? O-or be-because I don't have green things on my teeth?"
"No. You're just innocent. It's cute, I don't mind. I kinda expected you to be super dirty and sexy and shit and slutty like my ex, but no...or maybe?"
"Is your ex better than me?"
"No. We haven't had a date yet, though. Why don't you come down instead, princess? Let's go to the new place for the night."
"I want to go to your real house."
"Hm..okay. Then, we can go there. I want to see your place, too. It's cute, isn't it? Like you?"
Yoonjae's cheek suctioned to his mouth, an obvious clue he'd bitten the inside of it. He flushed pinker than he already was, his fingers trembling over Andrei's growing bulge. His head dipped to the side teasingly even as he shook, scared of his own developing confidence. "Is your place handsome, like you?" he whispered anyway, his lashes bat into that doll-like rhythm Andrei wanted to chew at.
Don't. He reminded himself.
Refraining from grabbing the boy and forcing him into an uncomfortable kiss on soaked wood, Andrei just patted the boy's thighs and hummed softly. "Mhm. I don't know, peaches. But we better get going if we want you up tomorrow, hm?"
Yoonjae grunted.
-
The water swished under Andrei's steel-toed boots as he stomped one heavy foot through it. "I love the rain, Yoonjae. It reminds me of home. We got more snow than nothing but this? In Florida, we didn't get snow or ice. We got rain. Lots of it. You want to hear something cool or is it oversharing?" He glanced at the smaller boy. Their hands entwined, muddy brook seeping its way through their thin pants together. Yoonjae's fingers fondled the small, heart monitor-like tattoo on Andrei's thumb, fascinated with childlike curiosity.
"We're lovers now, hihi...nothing is oversharing...unless. You have like AIDs or...something, I don't know."
Andrei cocked a brow with a shallow, quick laugh. "No, don't worry. I get tests every few months. My dad freaks out about it. He doesn't want me to be like Eazy-E. Rest in peace, though."
Yoonjae giggled softly. "What's with your obsession with NWA? Why would..a Russ-Russian wh-white guy listen to rap about hating...Wh-white people?"
"Princess, they don't rap about hating white people," Andrei started, and he wouldn't stop. "They rap about pushing against racism and oppression. I like their music, it's realistic."
"What? Did you have gun wars and robberies in Europe, hihi?" Yoonjae huffed, his other hand groping Andrei's biceps. Lovingly. Andrei nodded. "Not when I was a little kid, but in Florida my brother or sister got shot for...hm...what did they do? I think it was running from the cops, I don't know. But yeah. They felt racially abused."
"Erm...you're funny!"
"It's true."
"Aren't your siblings...also...pretty white? I don't get it. Why would police officers, I don't know, chase you?"
"Fag! Get your ass over here!" Andrei only groaned. The voice was deep, rusty, and too familiar. Their delicate conversation stepped on by the brainless Arseni Smirnov once more. Andrei tightened his grip on Yoonjae as he looked up. His younger, twin brother stood with his button up slightly soaked and unbuttoned at the top and his dress pants hauling more water than a tank. He planted himself in the parking lot of the new, shimmering building. Holding a black, giant, square shower head in between two clean hands.
"We're here," Andrei announced to Yoonjae, talking in that soft and soothing way Yoonjae seemed to coo at. The smaller boy's throat bobbed. "Your...I'm not-did he just call us a slur?"
"Me, not you, baby, don't worry. No one is judging you."
"I hope so."
"Mhm, don't worry."