He went when directed, softening into the kiss-- as much as he could, given. Things.

After a few moments, he broke off with a little laugh.

“Baby, it’s really fine. The way things are. Better than fine.” Now he just felt like he was arguing. “But. Um. If you really want to. We can try. I’m just… not… the best at… I’ve never. Ah.”

How to explain this in a way that didn’t break Proboards TOS made sense?

“Never… well. It’s hard to explain.” Because he’d obviously… received, before. But it had never… been enjoyable.

[attr="class","mintag"] Alexei Ivanov

He sits back on his heels, still astride Alex’s thighs-- no less intimate but definitely less pointed.

“Not ‘coerced’, really,” he said, rubbing at one bicep, suddenly nervous, “but, um. There were. Conditions. Terms.”

What else would you call, essentially, prostitution?

“It wasn’t… unwilling. Most of the time.” He winces. “But there’s… generally speaking, a limited amount of actions I was expected to… perform.”

He laughs. To diffuse the tension.

[attr="class","mintag"] Alexei Ivanov

God, he hates this. why could ‘t they just do their normal stuff? so when they died tomorrow it was without this huge lump of awkward hanging over their heads?

oh, yeah, they could die tomorrow. why was he wasting precious time?

“i usually bottomed. or gave oral. it wasn’t pleasant. i never enjoyed it. but it got me money and food and shelter when i needed it, so. necessary evils.”

his eyes fall half lidded and he stares at a spot just over Alex’s shoulder, unfocused.

“you become accustomed to… rising above it.”

at least, he had.

[attr="class","mintag"] Alexei Ivanov

You don’t have to worry about any of that.

It’s true, he supposes. There are, obviously, steps that were skipped along the way, integral ones, that weren’t going to be skipped now. There was the warmth and safety of his own home. Nothing relied on this.

“It’s not…”

His eyes flick back to Alex’s face, and he softens his own expression, struggling to find the words.

“... that I don’t want to. I just don’t think I--,”

He squints, licks his dry lips.

“--I’m a bit broken, Alex.”

It comes out on a laugh.

[attr="class","mintag"] Alexei Ivanov

Of course, Alex would continue to poke, to prod. Of course he would want to know.

“I don’t… so, you know how you don’t… feel the same kind of physical attraction as other people? There has to be an emotional connection there first, right?”

That’s what he’s gleaned of their relationship so far, at least.

“I don’t… I don’t think I can--,” he amended, after a beat, “feel pleasure the-- the same as. Other people. I’m broken.”

Reprogrammed. Misused. Denatured.

[attr="class","mintag"] Alexei Ivanov

“You’re right, I am,” he says, and, as though to illustrate, he presses a warm hand to Alex’s cheek, brushes his thumb across the softness of his face; draws the fingers of his other hand over the ridges of his collarbones.

It’s a reminder that jars him out of his negative headspace, and pushes him back into the heat of his body.

He wants.

He wants Alex with an almost uncontrollable need.

“I…”

He doesn’t know if he’s willing to talk about it. He never has, before. His brain is hot and his hips want to move of their own accord.

“It’s hard to explain. I am-- I am good at giving. I am not so good at receiving. And I’ve never… enjoyed it. Not once. Not really.” He tilts his head, licks his lips. “I don’t know how else to… say it.”

[attr="class","mintag"] Alexei Ivanov