I crave public validation despite my writing being at its lowest at the moment, that's why I present you a little nikprice thingy from an au inspired by soviet sci-fi, especially the cartoon "The Mystery of the Third Planet". There's a very special feel and mood about soviet sci-fi, and while I lack the skill to convey it, it means a lot to me (I grew up on it, after all), and I will keep trying to write a big multi-part work in this au, but for now have this.
This piece was written in Russian around April 12th (Cosmonautics Day, established on the day of the first human flying in space) and translated by me very badly, that's why it's so weird and unlike my usual writing style in English.
CW: 2023 words, established NikPrice, suggestive closer to the end, fluff, bad writing, no plot at all.
BUT I have something really cool for this piece/au to make up for my shitty writing: two artworks gifted to me by my Russian artist comrade (their telegram channel) and by @/gomzdrawfr. The text is under the artworks!
A star in the sky, shrouded in a pink halo, was licking the tall hulls of the ships lined up on the flat spaceport like chess pieces on a board with wet-looking reflections. The sloping sides of the streamlined galaxies conquerors were warming up under the watchful eye of the square windows of the main building of the spaceport, a sharp spindle rising upward like a collector's needle, waiting for the spaceship butterflies. In the windless atmosphere, the noise of a busy trade hub was being carried far and wide and mixed into the familiar cacophony — the clanking of the jointed limbs of clumsy robots, the incessant rattling of belt conveyors, the electric hum of force fields.
Price stuck a cigar shaped like a long-haul freighter into his mouth and began patting the pockets of his space suit, his frown deepening with each empty one. Realising he hadn’t his lighter on him, captain cursed under his breath and reached for his blaster holster, but changed his mind halfway and turned around to run up the springy ramp to his ship for a less dangerous source of fire.
A hand in a silver sleeve appeared out of nowhere, blocking his way like a gallant barrier, and thin plasma threads lit up right between the blue eyes crossing toward the tip of his freckled nose, connecting the thin legs of the miniature model of the first artificial satellite like a spiderweb.
— Nik, — Price immediately greeted the ion lighter and its owner in a tone that was more of a fact stating rather than greeting and lit his cigar from the plasma mesh. — Startin’ to think our meetings are not accidental.
— Just doing a little delivery, captain, — Nikolai slyly evaded an answer, smiling broadly, and hid the souvenir lighter in his chest pocket. — Are you here on duty?
Squinting in a futile attempt to keep from smiling back, Price dropped his chin to his chest with a raspy “hm,” and rocked back and forth on his heels, as if pondering what to say to his old comrade.
— Yes, — he finally settled on the only possible option — to tell the truth — and shook the ashes onto the heat-resistant surface of the spaceport. — Counteracting dangerous elements.
Nikolai threw his head back in a rich laugh — Price had always noticed how freely and easily Nik laughed, as if his whole body was just waiting for another explosion of joy: laughter was born deep in his stomach, rolled freely up the broad chest and, pushing off from relaxed shoulders, flew out, catching onto the raven curls of Nik’s hair in the end, like circus gymnasts grabbing the rings under the striped roof. Compared to this, the restrained, coughing chuckles that rolled out of his own throat and got lost somewhere in his beard seemed dry to Price, as if his ability to rejoice was as tightly squeezed by the service uniform as he himself was — unlike Nikolai, who chose a free path.
Anyone who had ever seen the way John’s Neptune-blue eyes, decorated with comet tails of crinkles around the corners, sparkled as soon as they spotted the notorious smuggler, of course, knew that wasn’t the case.
— Should I start worrying already? — Nik playfully tilted his head to the side, examining John — skin kissed by all the stars in the galaxy, sprinkled with translucent freckles, round smiling cheeks, shiny and soft-looking beard; everything that made the first captain so unforgettable.
— Depends on what kind of “little delivery” you have here, Nik, — Price moved his famous hat back a little and nodded at Chimera, which he would easily recognize from a hundred thousand ships. — What if I drop in for a quick inspection, hm?
— And what if you don’t? — Nikolai turned around and placed his large, heavy hand on the other’s shoulder, slowly leading John further away from their spaceships. Their leisurely pace did not fit well with the chaotic haste of the well-organized life of the port — crews from all corners of the universe, service personnel, robots rattling with iron guts were scurrying around, but the two captains patting each other on the shoulders paid no attention to anyone, forcing everyone to go around their tall figures. — Shall we fly?
Price, hypnotized by the kind, cunning squint of the dark Labrador eyes, finally came to his senses and saw that they had approached the flyer parking lot and that Nikolai had two large rental tokens in his hand. Taking the cool circle with a shimmering imprint of the code, he chose a machine and squeezed into the cramped seat with a quiet groan, cursing under his breath in an attempt to accommodate his overly long legs — he could only wonder how Nikolai managed to get seated comfortably faster than him and bring the flyer into vertical takeoff already.
The chrome shine of the spaceport with its white and red lights got quickly left behind — Nikolai set a course, and Price habitually completely trusted the second captain. Beyond the built-up area of the global trade megaport, the planet turned out to be covered in monotonous steppes. The shadows of two flyers, blurred by the murky atmosphere, glided across the wasteland, slightly wobbling on minor unevennesses of the landscape. Everything looked the same: no forests, no hills by which one could determine how much distance they had already covered — they could only rely on the machine's own meter and inner intuition.
Relying exactly on that, Nik suddenly began to descend in a graceful spiral, and John followed him. Unused to the wind, the long, soft grass with a touch of pink silver swayed in waves under the onslaught of unexpected gusts — the glitter of the reflected light of the local star made this dance look like ripples on water. Opening the canopy of the flyer, Price turned his head in search of the source of a strange sound, similar to the ringing of an endless stream of aluminum coins pouring out from somewhere, but there was nothing around except for the swaying grass, reaching almost to his waist.
— John! — Nikolai called out softly, holding out his hand in a fingerless glove to help him jump onto the springing ground. Firmly grasping the offered palm, Price stood firmly on both feet and suddenly, without warning, yanked Nik towards himself, ducking under his arm to play against his center of gravity. Almost falling over, the man caught himself and with interest flaring up in his lazy eyes dragged Price along with him a couple more steps. — Not bad.
— But you’re not that easy to fool, — Price chuckled, turning out of his unstable position and getting into a stance, ready for a sparring match with an unequal weight class.
Circling each other and getting tangled up in the pearly grass that was trying to hug their ankles, the two captains came together once, twice, three times — smiling excitedly and growling, finally they fell to the ground and began to writhe on it, dirtying their spacesuits with silver dust. Price, who knew perfectly well that allowing Nikolai to end up on top meant losing, thrashedin a bear hug like a frenzied hound, trying to saddle Nik and squeeze him in a vice of steel thighs.
— You're losing your grip, Nikolai, — he panted, holding Nik's wide wrists pressed to the ground above his head, and instantly paid for it, thrown up by strong bucking hips like a rider on a spirited stallion. To catch his balance, Price released Nik's hands for a second, which Nik immediately took advantage of, placing his hot palms on the first captain's arse and squeezing the generous muscles through the stiff fabric with a satisfied purr.
— I think I'm holding up pretty well, — he retorted, looking like a cat that had just gotten a bowl full of cream and ignoring the force Price's firm knees were digging into his sides with. Throwing his head back onto the crumpled grass blanket that was playing with a metallic sheen in the rays of a low-hanging star over the horizon, Nik smiled again and continued to knead the other captain’s ass. Curly strands scattered around his face like a black halo only made him stand out more clearly against the light background of the surrounding world, drawing all of John's attention to the eyes that were studying him with genuine trepidation, covered by a sly squint. — John...
Allowing his own legs to spread wider and pressing his crotch against the magnificent mass beneath him, John ducked down and was met halfway by Nik's lips reaching out to him. One large palm, leaving his rear, migrated to the fluffy back of his head, burying itself in the chestnut strands gilded by the local sun and pressing John even closer. Parting his soft lips, Price licked over the other’s, slightly catching the short stubble with badger stripes of gray on the chin with his tongue, and deepened the kiss, greedily caressing Nikolai's tongue and lips.
— John, — he breathed out again, grabbing Price under his bent knee and rolling over so that he was on top without the slightest resistance from the captain, who was already melting. In the tightness of the uniform jumpsuit it was impossible to hide the erection that was becoming more and more obvious, and Nik pressed John closer to himself, allowing him to feel his own hardness.
Muttering something incoherent, Price began to fidget, tugging at the chrome zipper of the second captain, and as soon as he managed to unzip it even a few inches, he immediately pulled the elastic collar of the white top under the spacesuit down to bury his nose in the silvered curls of hair on Nik's chest and deeply inhale his warm scent. Maintaining an indecently high level of self-control, Nikolai took advantage of John's stillness to unzip his overalls completely and run his calloused palm over his soft stomach. He pressed teasingly at the lower abdomen, and Price groaned gutturally and tried to buck — failing under the impressive weight of the other's body; then Nik slid his hand higher, squeezing John’s full pec with loving admiration and immediately finding his hardened nipple with his thumb.
— Nik, dammit, — John hissed with a broken gasp, greedily squeezing Nikolai's powerful shoulders with his hands and trying to rip off the tightly fitting sleeves. Giving up when it didn't work either the first or second time, Price with a reproachful look in his eyes tugged at the other man’s belt and posingly spread his arms on the soft bed of grass, instantly jolting up when the sound of coins falling that had already turned into background noise split and multiplied and became louder. — What is this?
Blinking, Nikolai burst out laughing again and, sitting up on his heels, in a wide gesture ran his palm over the grass bowing in waves, causing a new ringing — while the ripples caused by their arrival continued to sway, adding their hum to the polyphony they had created.
— The feather grass is singing, — Nik explained, turning his loving gaze back to John. The blush that crept onto his wrinkled, freckled, wise face could have been attributed to the pink reflections of the local star if it had not already gone beyond the horizon, leaving only a white night. The alien sky lit up with pink northern lights snaking from the pole very close to their location — but John already didn’t notice two of the five moons solemnly floating up to the horizon to watch him being slowly made love to by Nik.
Waiting for fuel before leaving the next day, Captain Price stuck a cigar shaped like a long-haul freighter into his mouth and found a lighter in his chest pocket. The thin legs of the first sputnik model flared up with a plasma grid, and John, smiling until the corners of his eyes wrinkled, lit gis smoke contentedly, looking into the purple sky.
In today's episode of @gomzdrawfr discovering a kink and Juju fully encouraging it, we present to you, especially @on-a-lucky-tide @nekrosmos @laswells-ashtray @panchulien @jgvfhl and everyone in nikprice army
Garters. Trans Price in a thigh garter. Nikolai sliding his huge bear palm underneath it, even though it barely fits, to knead that soft flesh and thumb over the slight indented mark the belt left.
Price kneeling before Nik to help him put the sock garters on. And if Nikolai puts his boot on John's crotch and makes him polish it with his slick, then it's their business.
@trickythedino re: your thoughts on Prikolai bake off. Nik tries to expand John's palette and get him to pick out the nuance in different dishes, but John's taste buds have been obliterated by twenty years of cigar smoking and scalding coffee, so he has the same reaction after everything that tastes good: going "mmm" enthusiastically and nodding. Nik's screaming internally, but the only outward response is some grumbled Russian that sounds peculiarly like a death threat as he turns back to the stove.
Nikolai (in my heart) cannot cook to save his life. He can bake limited desserts (like blini or Easter bread or medovik) but he manages to burn noodles.
Price found out and it was like watching a car wreck for him. Horrifying, but he could not look away.
So late 😭 I forgot I do get the odd ask so so sorry babes but I got chu, I hope 😖
It was a snap instinct, the alarms to close to the ones he's heard on missions. Tripped by the odd grenade or even a bad flash bang. Rolling out of bed, grabbing the gun he kept in his night stand. Not even bothering with pants, quickly checking corners and sweeping the upstairs. Rapidly getting closer to the source of the alarms. Heart beating in his chest as he realized someone was missing, someone large and fearsome who would be very loud if there was an intruder or a raid.
Nik, where the hell was Nik?!
He took the stairs two at a time bare feet spread and careful, knowing one wrong move and any shot could be fatal.
Bloody hells why was there smoke... And cursing? Russian cursing?! Nik!
It took everything John had to not bolt over the banister and beeline to his husband in all but a stupid measley paper. Maybe they'd correct that...
Sweeping the house and rapidly making his way to the kitchen, buck ass John fucking Price. Is greeted with the sight of Nikolai [last name redacted] glaring down and muttering curses at the stove in front of him.
Hissing and spitting when the oil pops onto his bare chest and bites him, rubbing it with a hand and trying to get at the bacon to turn. Already blackening around the edges and curling in on itself. Just as Nikolai wants to do, already planning on buying a new toaster for John. Wondering if he could get the likely burnt yet half toasted bagel out with a fork. Already annoyed with the rubbery eggs and stuck in his head before a bark of laughter, and a rather wonderful sight greets Nik.
Eyes lighting up and a love sick dopey smile crossing the Russians face as his eyes roam over his Captain. A comment on his tongue only to be cut off by another pained his and Russian curses as the bacon grease pops dangerously close to his soft man titty. The errant thought of just shooting the damn thing crossing his mind before a warm back pressed against him.
"You're cooking to high, and there's tongs instead of a cocktail fork." John chuckled, reaching around to turn the burner down and turning the bacon with ease. Barely jerking when the oil bites his arms.
The sight and feel and hearing that soft rumble, makes Nik fall in love all over again.
"Maybe I should have ordered breakfast, hm?"
"Maybe. Not to late to go back to bed." John would hum softly, eyeing the eggs warily.
"Bed sounds nice." Nik would hum with a nod, moving only to hold his lovers arms around him and staring down at the strips of blackened meat. "We should get a dog."
"You'd poison the poor thing with your cooking." John would chuckle out, resting his head against Nik's shoulder. Beard brushing against the exposed and pressing a kiss to him.
"Your Soap would eat it." Nik would counter, taking Johns hand and pressing a kiss to his knuckles.
"Soap would also try and get between us in bed."
"Could be fun."
"Maybe, but today, you're mine. Let's get back to bed and get that oil off."
"As you wish, Captain."
The two would take a moment to retreat back towards the stairs. Towards the cold bed that would warm up quickly enough.
"Nik."
"Yes my Captain?" He'd hum in a teasing voice, glancing back at John.
"Did you shove a whole bagel in my bloody toaster?"
John had never seen Nik run so fast as he bolted up the stairs.
IT TOOK SO MUCH WORK TO FIND ONE PICTURE
THIS IS THE PICTURE
THIS IS HIS FACE WHEN JOHN ASKS ABOUT HIS TOASTER!!! THANK YOU TO @panchulien FOR HELPING ME FIND!!! AND THANK YOU TO @shkretart FOR THE WONDERFUL ART
okay okay i got another edit but this time it's "please please please let me get what i want" by the smiths as my first nikprice brick on xhs (and also because it's in the nikprice playlist that i listen to a lot)
edit: i made a mistake on the how are ya doin part, please pretend it's right 😭
I've been slowly chipping away at an omegaverse thing alongside the Mafia AU (which I'm hoping to publish chapter 2 of by the end of the week, I just got in my head about it).
Price stared at the yellow envelope on his desk and felt nothing but numb resignation. He had known it was coming. Mac had called him into his office a week ago to inform him that the military exemption was being withdrawn, that restrictions on suppressants were coming. There was nothing he could do. Parliament had voted, the people had spoken.
Sorry, John. Really. Mac's face had been pinched.
He tapped his biro on the side of his calf, shifting his ankle across his knee as he turned a little closer. Needed to open it. Letting it marinate a little longer inside the envelope wasn't going to change the ink on the page. No matter how much he willed it to.
The biro clattered across the desk as he cast it aside and snatched the letter up. He had mentally prepared for it, but that didn't stop each word feeling like a punch in the throat.
“Dear Cpt. John Michael Price VC CGC DSO,
We are writing to inform you about the formal end to the military exemption under Article 4 Paragraph 3 of the Public Order and Welfare Act as of the 22nd April 2023. Following the repeal of the…”
His gaze blurred. His list of medals at the end felt like an added slap in the face. At least they had used his rank. He took a deep breath and forced his eyes to refocus a little further down, skipping the waffle about the democratic vote that had stripped him of his rights and dignity.
“...you will be required to mate formally within six months of the end of your exemption. If, for whatever reason, you remain unbonded by 22nd October 2023, your time in service will be concluded with full pension, and you will be retired to a pack house for further care.”
There are parts of it that are so hard to write. Like Nik wrestling with his happiness, almost sickened by it, because he finally has John but he can never be sure it's real because John's hand was forced, and John trying to prevent his resentment from spilling over onto a man that has only ever been loyal, patient and respectful. And not wanting to write Price 'giving in', but trying to find some kind of balance, some happiness, in a situation they're forced into.
This may never see the light of day. It certainly won't arrive before the Mafia AU is done. But... Yeah, I'm suffering.
Price who is the epitome of "stiff upper lip" British masculinity being completely overwhelmed and off-kilter when Nik compliments him, thirsts after him or is openly, enthusiastically in love. It's when Nik sees him for the first time after a break that he is the most unapologetically feral.
"Moyo serdtse raduyetsya, kogda ty ryadom, John. Ty moyo schast'ye!"
"Nik, I went out for a smoke, haa, I was gone five bloody minutes, put me down ya muppet, sto--ah," John says, while squirming, chuckling and flushing as Nik nuzzles and kisses.
Or, when he steps out in his suit and tie for a date, fresh shave and a little spritz of something nice smelling, and Nik behaves like he's the eighth wonder of the world. Kissing his knuckles, his neck, placing a hand on his waist and squeezing an arse cheek if he's feeling randy, whispering the sweetest and filthiest compliments.
And it's genuine, ain't it? He's not ribbing or using homoeroticism as banter. It's not just sex. Nik's bloody well in love with him. Him. John Price.
Price has never been the object of desire and love as he is for Nik and it makes his insides do this weird bloody fluttery, squirmy thing, his skin covered in goosebumps, freckled cheeks warm, and he can't help but grin bashfully and puff his chest a bit. Maybe there's a small somethin' in all that mushy shit after all.
Price about to eat a Snickers bar and then Nikolai tilts his chin to the side with a single forefinger, leans in as if to kiss him and Price goes an' closes his eyes for it, because a snog from Nik (narrowly) beats a Snickers... only for Nik to quickly redirect and chomp the entire chocolate bar in one mouthful. Man basically deepthroats that shit right out of Price's hand. Simon, Johnny and Gaz promptly leave the room because cap and daddy soviet are about to fuck or fight and, either way, furniture is getting broke and they don't want to be in the firing line.
