The Rest of the Story

A/N: empress eerian-sadow, I hope this qualifies, even if it isn't a first time.

This takes place three years after the end of Worlds Collide, as Victor and Nicholas are back in Central together.

Christening the Apartment

Victor folded his arms and watched as Nicholas threw the door open to their apartment ceremoniously.

“Our first place together.” Nicholas looked over at him, black eyes scanning Victor’s face. “What?”

“From the moment I got transferred to Eastern Headquarters, we practically lived together.”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t ours. We just crashed in one another’s rooms.” Nicholas said, making his way behind Victor, a genuine sign he was up to something.

“Every single… oomph!... time.” Victor looked at his back, where Nicholas was currently clinging, his legs wrapping their way around Victor’s waist. “Do you really have to do that?”

“Mm-hmm.” Nicholas nuzzled his way into the crook of Victor’s neck.

“How old are you?”

“Old enough that if we go in and see the bed’s up and ready we can have some fun before my family visits.” Victor stood for a minute, waiting for Nicholas to let go. That obviously wasn’t happening, as the blond’s feet had yet to hit the floor.

“Did you expect me to carry you in bridal style?” Victor asked.

“This will do just fine.” Nicholas nipped at Victor’s neck. “Go on,” he said as he put his arms around Victor’s shoulders. “Unless you want someone to see us playing piggyback. And…” Nicholas lowered his voice to a level that just wasn’t right, one that shouldn’t have done the things to Victor that it did. “that’s if you don’t want to play an entirely different kind that requires us going inside.”

“You’re a horny son of a bitch, aren’t you?” Victor asked.

“You’re just figuring that out?” Victor could feel Nicholas was growing hard at his back, and the engineer realized he needed to get his boyfriend to the bedroom fast or he was going to have problems carrying him that would have absolutely nothing to do with the muscles in his back and shoulders.

Victor continued to move through the apartment, through the small kitchen, into the living room, and to the bedroom, only to find their mattress shoved up against the wall and the bed in pieces. “Damn,” Nicholas said. “Guess expecting the moving company to have assembled it was too much to hope for.”

“Looks like,” Victor said trying to set Nicholas to the floor. The blond moved to the mattress and flopped it over onto an open space on the floor. “Anxious for this?”

“The dorms in Eastern Headquarters didn’t exactly give us much in the way of privacy,” Nicholas said as he walked back over to Victor, running his knuckles over the darkly stubbled cheeks, while the other hand managed to slide up under Victor’s sweater.

“You are wearing far too many clothes,” Nicholas said as he proceeded to try to rip them all off of Victor’s body.

“You’re one to talk,” Victor said, returning the favor, his hands skimming underneath Nicholas’s shirt.

Victor had come a long way since the first time he and Nicholas were together. Long gone was the nervousness over the fact that Nicholas was not soft or feminine. Victor had been so awkward as he’d uncovered the firm, muscular chest, and stopped as though he’d had no idea what to do with it.

Now, as he was confronted with the golden, strong body in front of him, Victor immediately began nipping at Nicholas’s neck, moving down his sternum and over to his right nipple. All the while, the slightly taller man guided the blond to the mattress, both fumbling with the other’s fly. It took nothing for Nicholas to manage to wriggle his own pants over his hips, taking the somewhat loose boxers with them—after getting sick with a nasty eastern bug about a month before, he’d lost a little bit of weight.

Victor had no intentions of bottoming today. If he and Nicholas were going to be moving and hauling furniture, he wasn’t going to be the one with a sore ass. Been there, done that, and he wasn’t the one who’d instigated this. Admittedly, he was top far more often, but the time that really counted, that first time, he’d entrusted his lover to know what he was doing.

This time, though he hungrily devoured the thin pink lips, meshing so fiercely that Victor began to doubt whether or not he would be capable of separating himself from the alchemist for air.

As he helped to guide the pants over the tanned hips, Nicholas slid down Victor’s body until he was blowing warm breath over the dark-haired man’s growing bulge beneath the boxers. Victor considered letting his long-time friend continue on in that path, but Nicholas had a devious streak in him about a mile wide. Victor knew better. If he let Nicholas finish him off, he’d find himself at the bottom, and he wasn’t the one who’d insisted on doing this.

He kicked off his pants, moving down to the floor where Nicholas was.

“I think hands and knees, Major.”

“Yes, sir, Lieutenant,” Nicholas answered with a smirk. It didn’t matter that in these roles, their official titles didn’t quite work; they used them all the same. Victor couldn’t wriggle out of his boxers fast enough as he watched the thinner man turn away from him and crawl onto the mattress.

“In my pants pocket,” Nicholas said, lowering his upper body onto the mattress and completing the presentation of himself to the dark-haired man, “there’s a tube of lube. It’s for the automail, but it’ll be safe.”

Victor grabbed for the blue denim pants and found the tube, eagerly screwing off the cap, watching as the golden-colored behind wiggled when Nicholas shifted in position. Victor began kissing the blond’s back, left hand rubbing down the left arm in front of him, paying particular attention to the metal forearm and fingers.

All the while, his right hand opened the lube and squeezed what it could on the first two fingers. He moved down to the base of the lean man’s back, still unable to bring himself to use his tongue in the way Nicholas had that had left Victor a twitching mass of nerves and sex drive. Victor was just grateful he’d gotten to the point he could at least prepare Nicholas himself; with his long-time friend, it was a wonderful, sexual act. With any other man, it would have been disgusting.

Victor allowed his fingers to massage around Nicholas’s twitching opening as his mouth and tongue couldn’t seem to get enough of the rest of the man. He loved the way his boyfriend tasted, the way he felt. His left hand moved to encircle Nicholas’s member, his right index finger finally breaching the muscles and moving its way inside. The blond was tight, far tighter than any woman he’d ever been with, but thankfully not so tight that it took the extensive stretching it did when Victor was in his lover’s position.

And for as much as Nicholas had always to have inherited his elder father’s smooth voice, Victor felt the rich, gravelly sounds of the blond’s moans should have been an aphrodisiac of their own.

He worked a second finger in, and Nicholas practically mewled.

“Damn it, Nicholas,” Victor said, voice nearly as husky as his lover’s. “You keep making noises like that I’m not going to make a mess back here.”

“Then get on with it.” Nicholas leaned back, impaling himself on Victor’s fingers. “Oh, shit!”

Victor pulled out his fingers and moved himself into position, tugging Nicholas’s hips until his behind was flush with the other man’s backside. He moved a hand between them to position himself before slowly moving himself inside.

“Oh, damn,” Victor hissed as the head of his penis was now inside that tight ring. “You okay?” The only response was a grunt that turned into a moan as Victor began tugging and sliding over the blond’s phallus, moving back to the taut sac behind.

Slowly, he moved inside, kissing golden shoulders and the soft hairs at the back of Nicholas's neck.

“Victor, move. Now.”

The dark-haired man pulled back, then charged forward again. He repeated the pattern until Nicholas was meeting him thrust for thrust, rocking back for each and every time Victor pushed in.

They had reduced themselves to a mass of grunts and moans, all intelligible speech gone. The occasional “Victor’ or “Nicholas” or “More” came out, but very little else.

Victor could feel his fingers digging into the blond man’s hips, enough that he was sure they would leave bruises on the other man’s wonderful body. His other hand was still continuing to try to bring pleasure to the man below him, and he could feel him tightening, nearing that blissful point that Victor was already so close to reaching.

“Nicholas, I…” Victor pumped a few more times before crying out and spilling himself inside of the other man. His hand milked out the member below him until the ring of muscles clamped down on his over-sensitized penis.

“Oh, damn, shit, Victor, shit!” Victor slowly pulled out of Nicholas, both of them flopping down on the messy mattress.

“Do you realize how much you cuss during sex?” Victor asked.

“No more than I do anywhere else. I have a terrible mouth on me.”

“I wouldn’t say that. It’s been pretty good to me on occasion.”

“And you say I’m the kinky bastard,” Nicholas said, wrapping his arms and legs around Victor.

“You are. How did you manage that?”

“Have you met my parents?” Nicholas said. “Try walking in on that? Or worse yet, stay with my sister when she was pregnant with Oliver and you can hear her and Fletcher in the next room trying to ‘trigger labor.’” Victor tucked his head beneath Nicholas’s chin. “It’s a miracle that I’m not a sexual deviant.”

“You are a sexual deviant, but I love you.”

“I love you too.”