Title: The Scented Gardens of the Blind. (4)

Author: Bernie

Pairing: Pavel Bure / Valeri Bure

Rating: Burecest. NC-17 Slash. Let me spell this out; they are brothers and this chapter has a not particularly explicit depiction of sex in it. If this could freak you out please don’t read anymore.

However, part 5 doesn’t have anything squick worthy, and I think is rather pretty, so you can skip this one and read that, it’ll be posted tomorrow. And you know how there is always a part of a story that you don’t like as much as the others? Well that is this part. I don’t think it is awful, I just think that I have been looking at it for to long. Am I babbling? I think I am babbling. I think this is good, really I do, I’m not fishing for compliments. I’m going to shut up now and feedback other people’s stuff. Shutting up. Now. Right now.

Disclaimer. This is all made up. part three

 

New York City. Adults.

 

Where once the boys were caged in a world of simmering violence, now they are cushioned in a world of softness. The fleece of the sheets under Pavel’s cheek, the cotton shirt that Valeri slides off before he slips into the bed. Valeri’s delicate touch on Pavel’s skin. The muted rose of Pavel’s lips, the unreal stars of New York City visible through the break in the curtains. It is so quiet. They are breathing each other in. There is the aroma of soap and washing powder, the non-smell of the unscented shampoo Pavel had used. They prefer the slightly lemony taste of each other, the peachy bouquet that comes off their bodies. In Russia people often wear too much cologne, heavy scents to cover the composting smell of the decaying city.

 

Russia. Teenagers.

 

Kissing. Kissing under the windowsill. Kissing under the windowsill are the brothers. Passionately. Gently. They open their mouths, let their tongues touch, and their eyes are unguarded, locked directly on each other.

 

It can’t be said that they were lost in the moment, do you know how hard it is to kiss someone with your eyes open, how intimate the gesture? Everything Pavel felt was in his eyes. Everything: the uncertain child; the son who wanted approval; the brother who wanted to protect. And everything Valeri felt was evident in his eyes. All his love, his own need, just to have Pavel, just to be Pavel’s.

 

Filtered light entered the room through the net curtains, leaving patterns of Queen Anne’s Lace on the floor. They tucked themselves into one rectangle of light; unconsciously they did not allow any part of their bodies to slip over the sides of the window-shaped shadow on the floor. This was their magic circle, the boundary that separated them, protected them, from the rest of the world.

 

Anything can happen, is allowed to happen when it is touched by the wisp of magic. It is twilight; it is a magic hour, poised between light and dark, between brothers and lovers. 

 

Valeri pushes Pavel backwards, easing him down until he is lying on his back, Valeri lies on top of him; he runs his hands over Pavel’s smooth cheek. He is a slight weight, the shorter, smaller brother.

 

He goes slowly, pushing aside the rest of Pavel’s shirt, exposing buttery flesh. He kisses just above Pavel’s navel; the salty taste of flesh makes him hungry for more, for it all. He traces his fingers down, soft enough so that it does not tickle, barely registering as a touch. You would not think they could be so gentle, that fingers that even now had developed calluses and scars could move so softly that it only registered as the ghost of sensation.

 

And they are never violent with each other. They never held each others arm’s down, they never role-played bondage games, never scratched, never bit, never even bruised. Even the hardness of the floor under them translated itself to soft clouds, to mountains of pillows.

 

When Valeri’s fingers reach the top of Pavel’s pants they are suddenly clumsy, suddenly heavy. Pavel is almost too afraid to move, but he is the older brother, he feels he should be more in control. He tugs Valeri slightly, pulling him up to his lips, trying to memorise the taste. Dust tangles into patterns in the fading sunlight, pulling together a veil between the brothers and the rest of the world.

 

Pavel kisses Valeri softly, and he tastes milky skin, pushing aside an annoying shirt, he kisses along Valeri’s collarbone, sighing at the bump caused by a break in an earlier life. The first time Pavel tastes champagne it fizzes on his tongue like Valeri’s skin.

 

He kisses down his stomach, pushing aside any cloth that is in the way, the pale creamy slash of Valeri’s hipbones almost visible through his skin. He takes Valeri into his mouth that dark hot pinker flesh that seems almost wrong in this picture of sweetness and softness. There is a salty burn, an agony of aroma that invades Pavel’s senses, he can hear Valeri’s choked sighs and feel him splash against his tongue.

 

And it is a taste he cannot identify, but it is an addiction he can feel burning low in his stomach.

 

Pavel crawls up Valeri’s body, they know what happens next, and they aren’t particularly innocent, even less so now, they are aware of what happens between two men, which they mostly are now. Between kisses Pavel slides one hand down Valeri’s body, just resting his fingers against his entrance, but he catches the wince, the flash of fear in Valeri’s eyes.

 

Pavel stops, and rests his hand on Valeri’s stomach, feeling the slight quiver of his muscles contracting.

 

“Maybe you should do this to me first? I don’t want to hurt you, and I don’t know how to do it properly.”

 

Valeri nods slowly.

 

“But I don’t know what to do either.”

 

Pavel shrugs, then grins, a flash of joy that Valeri echoes, all the sweeter, because it is a smile that is not seen very often.

 

“Go slow, we’ll work it out.”

 

Valeri waits for Pavel to lie back on the floor and then lies on his side next to him. He wets his finger and slides it slowly into Pavel, Pavel who is keeping his face carefully neutral, not betraying his feelings with his expression.

 

And it feels, strange, not uncomfortable as much as unusual, as one finger becomes two and then three, Pavel feels the low rumble of anticipation in his stomach to think that Valeri will soon be in him instead. And suddenly he wants that, craves it even more than the addiction of Valeri’s kisses, even more than air, than food.

 

“Now. Please.”

 

It is as close to a command that they two will ever issue when they are together, it would have been more intimidating, actually threatening, if Pavel could have managed to speak in anything above a whisper.

 

Valeri shifts his weight onto Pavel and follows his murmured instruction to go slowly. He trusts Pavel to know what to do, he trusts his own knowledge of Pavel’s moods, they way his eyes change colour to let him know if this hurts. Pavel’s eye’s do betray his emotion, they darken to a deep impenetrable blue as Valeri moves, gradually more quickly, and they come together as the world fades to nothing, and the two brothers become one person.

 

Under the shabby trees of the winter city the boys lie together. part five

 

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