(Daniil is trans but his genitals arent rly discussed, its all abt that assfuckin)

Artemiy likes it in the ass, although it’s not something he gets the chance to do often, and it’s enough of a hassle he doesn’t even do it to himself much. Jerking off is more about stress relief, most of the time, not a whole production. Cleaning himself up before and after feels like overkill when he could just spit in his palm and rub one out and be done with it. You don’t get to be a surgeon without knowing where all the squishy bits fit together inside though, and there’d been a time he was curious enough to do the finding out himself. Once he knows, that’s that, it just is, like all the rest of his body.
Aside from the completely unerotic preparation involved it just wasn’t worth the hassle without a partner. Annoyingly, the guys he’d fucked casually tended to assume since he was big he wanted to be the one sticking it, and worse, it seemed like half of them had never been introduced to the concept of hygiene beforehand… one boner-killing encounter was enough to make him hesitant. More than one and he’d about given up on ass-fucking randoms altogether. Not that he was squeamish, obviously. Blood and shit are most of what’s in the body. Bodies are just living, messy flesh and the wet stuff feeding meat and bone. Whatever. Point is, he likes it in the ass but it’s not usually worth the trouble.
That’s without two weeks of bad food and morphine to fuck up his system. So when he finally takes Daniil to bed, a few days after they’ve given out the last panacea and settled in to get to know each other as men, he’s still not thinking about bringing it up anytime soon. But the sex is easy and good. They’re quick and lazy with each other from the get-go, a race to the finish with no frills. Still, it’s a good finish. He’s gotten to know Bachelor Dankovsky at his best and his worst, burning the candle at both ends. Daniil, naked and laughing on his back with Artemiy’s lips on his neck - he’s like an old habit. More than familiar. Like a part of himself once-known, long-neglected, picked up again. They jerk each other off and he wakes up an hour later to Daniil elbowing him. He could’ve spotted at twenty paces that Daniil would be the type to pitch a fit about his bedmate snoring, nevermind that Artemiy couldn’t help it. And they’re - whatever they are. Not friends yet, though something’s catching there - barely lovers, only in that they’ve fucked, sans all the fumbling and foreplay it turns out neither of them enjoy - not even colleagues, really, now that the Sand Pest is dead and they’re on opposite hemispheres again. Just. Men. With good chemistry and enough experience each to make it worthwhile to seek each other out. Parallel enough activities in a small enough town that it’d be harder to avoid each other than to let their paths cross daily. And the sex is plenty good that Artemiy would be an idiot not to come back for more. Daniil’s picky and demanding in bed, just reinforcing Artemiy’s image of him as a cat that only wants to be stroked a certain way, exactly the amount it likes, lest it bite ferociously and without warning. He’s always liked such creatures, and he has good instincts - his hands know where to scratch, when to pull away, when to make a fist and withstand the inevitable claw.
Daniil is clever, attentive, and unorthodox. He’d come to it on his own. But Artemiy’s not shy, either. He gets himself ready for it, because he knows the answer will be yes, and he tells Daniil to meet him that evening ready to take him like he wants it.
Daniil is early.
Hell, Artemiy’s early too. He’s managed to tidy up his place a bit, but he’s still not expecting the knock so soon. It’s barely dark out. Daniil is flushed with the October cold and he tastes of cigarettes. They kiss on the doorstep, like they can’t wait for each other, and then they’re casual and at ease with each other once he’s in the door. He hangs his coat, but keeps his shoes on till the bedroom. It’s clean, but it’s not that clean.
He likes how Daniil helps himself, those deft fingers Artemiy’s been thinking of making quick work of everything between him and his prize. He steps back to let Artemiy step out of his pants and climb onto the bed while he works on his own shirtsleeves. It’s good to watch him undress. Artemiy strokes himself unselfconsciously, enjoys the view, and Daniil smiles at him and doesn’t put on a show. It feels like he’s known him all his life.
“Come here,” he says finally, when Daniil’s finally naked and shivering a little - they slot together in bed and kiss and warm each other up, Daniil’s cold hands roaming over his stomach, his back, his thighs, his ass. He squeezes and kneads like he’s enjoying himself privately, like a cat on a soft blanket. Artemiy thinks he could get away with just lying back and letting Daniil have his way, and he’d get his needs seen to and more besides. Daniil doesn’t seem to care whether Artemiy reciprocates, so he doesn’t bother just yet - holds him instead, strokes his hair and pets his back till they’re both heated through. Artemiy’s thigh between Daniil’s legs is getting slicked on, Daniil’s neck is pink from biting kisses and the rasp of his stubble, Artemiy’s already hard enough it aches and yet - it’s so easy. It’s not like sex, really - it’s almost like masturbating with a numb hand. He doesn’t even have to ask.
“Lie on your back,” Daniil says. He’s breathing hard. Artemiy’s already halfway doing it, so he just rolls a bit and lets Daniil sit up away from him. He grabs the jar from the bedside like he already knows - well, it’s the only thing left there, and it’s conspicuous. The balm is half-solid at this temperature, so he gets more on his fingers than he’ll expect - body heat warms it to liquid quickly, and then he’s rushing to get it on Artemiy before it drips on the bed - Artemiy lays back and just lets him. He likes it slick, anyway. The warmed oil smells of the herbs it’s infused with, spicy and sweet. It’s a good complement to the smell of sex. He thinks so, anyway. Daniil wrinkles his nose.
“What is this, exactly?”
“Lube.”
Daniil raises an eyebrow.
“Just oil with herbs. I made it a while back.”
“Should I be concerned?”
“Yarrow, fieldmallow, things like that. Not everything’s made of blood.”
“I should hope not.”
Well, he could say, everything is made of blood, depending on how you look at it. He doesn’t feel like getting philosophical, though. Daniil’s smiling his intent, focused smile, like he’s working on a problem only he can see. He’s stroking Artemiy over with pondering, almost distracted little motions, rubbing down his shaft and fondling his balls a bit. It’s not unpleasant, just not really sexy, and not really where he saw this going. He stays patient, though, while Daniil stares at something on a different plane, his lips half-parted and his fingers working slowly lower on him. He pauses, right as he’s starting to get somewhere, and takes another fingerful of lube with his other hand. He glances at Artemiy as if to say ‘ready?’
Artemiy raises his eyebrows, trying to say ‘hurry up.’
Daniil spreads the lube onto his fingers and dives in without warning. Artemiy tenses reflexively. Daniil waits.
“You could have warmed me up first.”
“I did,” Daniil says.
“You didn’t.”
“Shall I start over?”
“No.”
He tries to keep his eyes on Daniil’s while he works him. It’s not easy. He draws his finger out again and then pushes the other one in. Draws it out. Repeats the process a couple of times till he’s satisfied Artemiy’s as slick as he’ll get that way. And then he settles back.
He keeps his hand mostly where it is, fingers just pressing into the cleft of his ass like he’s going to do something there. Artemiy’s gotten used to their unromantic pace, but so far this has been a little impersonal even for him.
He gets the strangest shiver when Daniil looks at him, then.
It feels like. Apprehension?
“You don’t have anything else to do tonight,” Daniil says, like he’s telling rather than asking. “You don’t have anywhere else to be.”
“Nope,” he says, trying to hide the weird foreboding he’s feeling. “Just. This.”
“Good,” Daniil says.
And then he tortureshim.