30: Lake Baikal

... hi mom. u know the drill <3.

MILO

I sit down on the corner of the bed we've been staying in, looking out the big window, over the lake, toward the twilight sun. It's just hovering there, not sinking below the horizon, not even really touching it, just waiting for the Earth to spin enough that it rises back high into the sky.

I'm nervous. There's a pit in my stomach and I know HÃ¥kon has things he has to do right now but the fact that he's not here is making it a little worse. But I want this. I want it. Not because I want to finally ruin that bit of my own innocence, not because I want to be able to say I finally did this, but because I want that next step with him. Only him.

The door creaks and then clicks shut. I turn slightly, he's holding a towel and pulling his phone out of his pocket.

"Hey," I mumble, awkwardly, not sure what to say.

He looks up, setting down his phone, then tossing the towel onto the side table. "Hi,"

"Why... why a towel?" I watch him take a stride and a half toward me, dress pants fastened but his belt is missing.

"Uh," one leg around my hips, the other planted on the floor so he can cradle me between his legs. "I know your only experience with this is me and then books, which, that's okay, but books tend to blur out that this is actually really messy." He settles his head on my shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"Nervous," I let out a small laugh. "Really, really nervous."

He smiles into my neck. "Me too, but, it's okay."

I take a deep breath in, then press it out again between my lips, making it hiss.

"I'm gonna just," he wraps an arm around my stomach. "I'm gonna just say this, but, this is going to be awkward, and probably pretty awful, it's probably going to also hurt a lot for me, but, the first is always the worst and then we'll be okay. I just need you to tell me if anything is happening up there." He puts his hand on my head.

"I think it's gonna be fine up here," I lean into his hand. "You need to tell me if anything is wrong. I don't wanna hurt you."

"You too," he mumbles, kissing my shoulder. "Everything we need is on the nightstand, for now, at least."

I nod, then tip my head to the side, looking at him in the golden light from the window. Fuck he's beautiful. And calm and confident and completely at ease. I melt back into his arms, leaning forward to brush my nose on his. He circles back, eyes fluttering closed before tipping his head and meeting my mouth with his.

I stop again. "Teeth." I mumble. "Go take your teeth out. I'm not doing this with you and teeth."

That gets a good giggle out of him and he squeezes his arms around my ribs. "You picky little thing. I can't believe you want me with no teeth for this." I smile, letting him step out from around my back and walk to the door, hand in his mouth, I hear his footsteps to the bathroom, then all the way back. By the time he's at the door again, I'm laid out against a stack of pillows, arms behind my head, waiting for him to show up again.

"Look who got confident," he shuts the door again, tongue flickering over the gap in his mouth.

"Missing teeth," I reach out my hand for him. "Just like I like you."

He's smiling, looking down at his chest, fingers working on the buttons down his shirt. "Goofball."

I sit up, pulling at the back of his knee so he sets it down on the bed, eyes still focused on his shirt. He tosses his other knee up and over, sitting down on his heels, making it to the last button. I watch, mesmerized like a little kid at an aquarium, as he pulls his shoulders back and shucks off his shirt, tossing it toward the chair in the corner leaving him in a white undershirt pulled taught across his muscles.

"Get-" I reach up and put my hand around his ear, pulling him to my lips. "Get in here." I mumble, opening my mouth and kissing him, loving the confidence in which he kisses right back, loving that the first time he kissed me without his teeth he was too shy to let me kiss for longer than a few seconds, now he's got his mouth open and is kissing me like he could care fucking less. Kissing me like he knows I like it, love it, when he's confident about the things he doesn't like about himself.

I pull at his knees and his hips, pushing him down to the bed next to me, then throwing my knee over him and sitting up, putting him in the same position I was just in as I slowly drag my hands down my shirt and undo the buttons. He reaches up and starts working from the bottom, meeting me in the middle. I pull the shirt down and off my shoulders, throwing it next to his and only missing by maybe six inches. My undershirt fits less snug than his but I'm sick of the extra pressure around my ribs. I loop my fingers into the back collar and pull it forward, sighing in relief when I'm able to ball it up and hit the chair, glad to be rid of it.

HÃ¥kon leans in, kissing the center of my chest, then the hollow below my sternum, then my stomach. I love the contrast of the scratch of his beard and the soft warmth of his lips. I'm so damn glad he didn't shave that thing for the wedding. It just looks so good on him. So much like he's some wisened forest spirit who's about to just disappear back into the snow at any given moment.

I stare at him, letting him suck a bruise into my collar, the golden sunlight firing up his hair and his sapphire blue eyes when they look up at me. The sun hits just perfectly, reflecting off them and making them glow. Fuck he's gorgeous.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" He mumbles, kissing my collarbone.

"Well, I dunno, when a forest spirit looking motherfucker is giving you hickies you have the right to stare."

He frowns, looking up at me. "Forest spirit? That one's new."

I reach and squeeze his cheeks, bringing his eyes up to me, those gorgeous fucking eyes. "Baby you look like fucking fae for some damn reason, you and all that white hair and your eyes are goddamn beautiful. I mean I'm not crazy to sit here and half expect to take off that shirt and find big 'ol wings."

He's blushing. Like, blushing blushing. Like red all over his cheeks and ears and some of his neck, blushing. "Really?"

"Yes, really, you stupid bloke," I shake his head in my hands. "You're fucking stunning."

"Well then get my shirt off and see for yourself if I've got any wings." he mumbles, raising his arms.

I grin, grabbing the bottom hem and stripping him. Yeah that's my baby. All shoulders and biceps and bulky abs and all that. No wings, but quite a lot of muscles to make up for it. I move my knees closer to his body, then slide them apart, sitting down on his upper lap. He's watching me do it.

"Splits come in handy, huh?" He drags his thumb down my thigh. I look down at myself, knees and ankles back but definitely using that flexibility in my hips to get low onto his lap.

"Apparently," I look back to him, face-height. "Now kiss me." He obliges, letting his lips part for my tongue after a few seconds, making me think I have control for another few seconds before he flexes his legs and grinds his hips upward into mine. I gasp into his mouth, friction unexpected but not unwelcome.

"Hmm?" He raises his eyebrows at me and I have the urge to smack that pleased expression off his face.

"Jerk," I mumble back.

"Watch your legs." He says, then pushes my shoulders, making me fall back to the sheets, ankles by my hips. "Or, don't." He's looking down at me. "What the fuck."

"Too much goalie?" I say, stretching out my legs one by one, letting them straighten out toward the headboard.

"No it just looked like you completely dislocated everything," HÃ¥kon smiles, kissing my throat and setting his hand on my belt buckle. "Okay?"

I pull in a breath. "Okay." I respond. He doesn't burn any time unfastening the leather and then grabbing the buckle and pulling, taking it off in one swipe. I hear it hit the chair with our shirts.

His hands wiggle out the button and then notice something. "Is this a second button? What the-"

I smile at him, looking at the spot where I had to sew in a second button because the first one was just too loose even with a belt. "I'm skinny," I respond.

"But not sew another button on skinny, right?"

"You're staring at the second button," I respond. "Bite it, if you want. It's there."

He grins against my stomach, then bites it, giving it a tug. His lips come to rest on the hem of my boxers. "Okay?"

"Yeah," I breathe, stretching my arms up above my head, watching what he's doing but barely. HÃ¥kon's lips suck a little on the skin at the very base of my stomach, then he pushes down my pants to the halfway point of my thighs, following them with my boxers, then following with a long drag of his tongue up the crease of my thigh.

The next part is a damn blur, he torments me but makes me arch my back and swear at him, I get why he doesn't let me get off but I fucking hate him for it in the moment.

He pulls his mouth and his hands back, looking satisfied with my debauched appearance, strewn out on the bed, fingers and toes all curled up, tense with irritation.

"Get your pants off," I wave at him, "mine too."

He laughs, pulling at my dress pants, sliding them down and then off my ankles. I grapple, getting my boxers back up.  "Look at you," he laughs. "Useless. I put my mouth on you and it's like your body shuts off."

"It does!" I throw my arms up, complaining. "You and that stupid magical mouth of yours. You are a forest spirit aren't you? I've got you figured out, you know that. You can't hide it, magic man."

He's laughing and I look up to find him pushing his black dress pants down and off, throwing them to the side, leaving him in just-

"Are those rubber duck print boxers?" I lift my head to stare directly at him.

He turns red, blushing all the way down to the center of his chest. "N-no."

"I love you." I laugh. "I love you, you big stupid adorable idiot, just look at you, oh my god." I grin and sit up, tackling him around the hips, throwing him down back against the sheets, head on a pillow, just perfect placement. "I love you, I love you, I love you."

He's giggling, reaching up to tickle my sides. "Fine, so what I have on rubber duck boxers, yours are boring."

"I learned the hard way that I need to match my boxers to my pants." I tickle him back, kissing whenever I can.

"What?" He bursts out laughing, harder than before.

"Because I've split so many pairs of pants I've found that if the boxers are the same color less people notice."

He pulls me tight to his chest. "Goalie."

"Baby," I giggle back.

"I love you." he smiles. "Like nothing fucking else."

I poke his side, smiling into his shoulder. "Mhmm, goof."

"Absolutely," he pushes me back, making me sit up. Then, in a serious tone: "are you still nervous?"

I swallow, looking at him. "No, actually." I pull on his elastic, letting it snap back to his skin. "The messing around helped, is helping."

He nods. "Kay, then get me out of these." He wiggles his hips and I smile, pulling them down and letting him kick them the rest of the way off.

"Now what," I'm looking down at all of him, the line where his legs go from white to white and the heavy look of his dense thighs and how badly I want him to snap my neck between them. I don't actually want that I just feel like he could and it's the sexiest fucking thing.

"Now do what you were so unbelievably good at in the shower a few days ago." He lifts his arms above his head and I watch his muscles flex. "You're gonna need that." He points to the bedside table. I swallow hard.

"The nerves are back." I reach for it. "Not a lot, but they're back."

"Want to talk while you go through this?" he asks.

"About anything?"

"Sure," he says, watching what I'm doing. I trust him to point out if I'm doing anything wrong as I reach down.

"Can we talk about that scary lake up in Russia?"

"Sure," he squeaks out, clearly reacting to my hand. "The one that's really deep?"

"Yeah," I'm staring at what I'm doing, fucking mesmerized. "I don't like that lake, I'm scared of a lot of things but the last thing I wanna do is be anywhere near that thing when it's thawed. Iced over is fine, I feel like less things could escape, but when it's thaw? I feel like literally anything could crawl out of there. Have you seen the depth charts? I never want to be anywhere near it."

HÃ¥kon is stifling his mouth into his elbow. "I've seen-" he gasps. "The charts."

"Weird, really weird. Also makes me a little scared of the great lakes. I mean, I know they're there, I lived on the north shore of lake Ontario for a few years of my life in Whitby and then I lived kinda close in Flint, but I never really swam that far out from the shore. That's the thing about having, like, no body fat, I can't float. I've never been able to float. If I'm swimming it's a constant battle to keep my head up so I don't do it that often. I dunno why people like swimming."

He lets out a sharp gasp. "Oh my god, ah, fuck, shit."

"Okay?" I've stopped.

"Yeah, please, fuck," he squeezes his eyes shut. "Yeah, okay, good."

"Tell me if anything's wrong," I mumble.

"Nothing, nothing's wrong, you're good," he manages. "That's... perfect."

"O-okay," I respond. "But, anyway, and I really hope you don't mind that I'm just rambling, I need to keep my head busy so I don't freak the hell out about anything, but, I hate deep water. I really really hate deep water. I think that there's things that are worse than deep water but it's just really scary. And that fucking- that stream up in Great Britain? Maybe it was Scotland. I dunno, that little strid thing, that thing scares the shit out of me. I've never even been to that island but I can't imagine being anywhere near it. Can you imagine going on a hike and having to step over that? Or like, slipping and getting your leg caught and then sucked straight down? I'd fucking- ugh, no, absolutely not. Every time I see a little gurgling stream I think about it's one weird cousin that could literally murder me with one badly placed step."

"You're-" HÃ¥kon gasps. "You're gonna make me- shit. Stop!"

I yank my hands back. "What? Are you okay?"

He shakes his head. "No, no, shit," his eyes shut, head back against the pillows, catching his breath, chest heaving, face red. I panic. "I didn't want you to push me over like that. You weren't paying full attention and I didn't think you were going to notice that I was edging- you're okay, you're alright, I just didn't wanna lose it like that, I wanna wait until, you know, that."

I nod, slowly, heart still in my throat. "Okay, I- yeah, I'm sorry, I didn't notice. I was talking about that water thing."

He smiles, eyes still closed. "I fucking love you and your weird little brain."

I nod. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, I'm- I'm good." He reaches toward the side table. "I'm perfect." I watch his hand bat around and then hit what he's looking for, scooping it up. I watch him bring it forward, and then press the little foil into the center of my chest. I let it drop into my palm.

"Towel," he mumbles. "Pillow first," without opening his eyes he pulls a pillow forward, handing it to me. "Under my hips."

I oblige, putting the foil in my teeth and then wiping my hand on my thigh before helping.

"Towel over it," he mumbles. "I know you think I'm crazy but I swear it's gonna be useful."

I nod, fucking nervous again.

"Talk, Milo," he offers.

Through the foil in my teeth I slur: "I dunno what to talk about."

"Anything to relax yourself. Give me theories about something."

I nod again, letting him sit up. Then again, with a lisp, "Achilles and Patroclus is one of the best romantic stories ever told." I manage, watching him reach up and pull the packet from between my teeth. "I just- it's so good and fucking heartbreaking and I read that book, what, what was it, Song of Achilles? I sobbed for like three days. I was fifteen. It was one of the first stories I read in english other than fanfiction, one of the first real books, I still get sad thinking about it but historically, they're- I dunno it's just- they're one of the best." HÃ¥kon nods.

"Can I do this for you?" He holds the little foil up.

"Yeah, please," I sit up off my heels. "I've never done it, I'd fuck it up."

"Here, I'll show you."

"No I-" I stare at him. "Awkward."

"It's easy and you should, technically, know." He taps a kiss onto my lower stomach. "Did you not take a health class?"

"Well, no, I, it was supposed to be junior year in Whitby and then it was during sophomore year in Flint so I missed it."

"I have no idea what sophomore means, but, here," he sits up and kisses me, long and sweet and soft, mostly a distraction. "It's incredibly intuitive but you have to leave space in the end," he mumbles against my mouth. "S'like a repository."

I frown, kissing his lips one last time before saying: "How the fuck do you not know what sophomore means but can use repository in a sexual situation."

He just smiles. "Mhmm, wouldn't you like to know weatherboy."

"God," I grumble, dropping my head to his shoulder. "I'm so stupidly in love with you, HÃ¥kon, I hope you know."

"Oh, I do," he kisses the side of my head. "Sweet thing."

My dumb little heart flutters in my chest at the way that rolls off his tongue and into my ear. "So, tiny, tiny question." I mumble into his shoulder, kissing his neck lightly, all the way up to the line where his beard starts. "Why... uh, if... okay, if we're-"

"Two men? Both of us being clean?" he smiles. "It's really just about mess and how uncomfortable I presume it would be if you, ah, didn't pull out and what not, but, mostly mess."

I nod. "Yeah, yeah," he's pressing the palms of his hands into my stomach, dragging them upward from the center of my lower stomach up around my ribs. I let my head tip back, fucking marveled by how just his hands can feel like such an aphrodisiac against my skin. He slips his arm around my back, barring across my mid-spine, pulling my chest into his.

"Now you're gonna need this, be liberal with it, please."

"O-okay." I mumble, getting kissed on the side of the head again.

"Okay," He presses his forehead into my chest, then flops back, arms to the sides, body exposed. "Now, have me."

***

alright yeah anyway

also calculus is stupid and I'm honestly lost as hell but like my math teacher doesn't need to know that because I'm afraid of adults

-rabid