The Russian

Nikolai Alexi | Russian Crime Lord (RP blog. NSFW themes. I am not Tom Hardy.)

[nataliaandherrussianheart-blog]

"He’s very interested in everything you have to say. Or do," and she grinned a little before sipping her drink again. "There are worse ways for him to turn out that’s for sure," Vassily was proficient and dangerous and smart, no complaints there. She leaned in a little herself and shook her head. "No, he’s flourishing under you, you give just the right amount of everything," and she grinned a cheeky grin at him, a very much read between the lines expression.

[the--russian]

He read between the lines alright and didn't have the decency to be apologetic about bouncing her underage son, his nephew, on his grown-man cock. If she kept smiling like that, she'd be next. "I'm glad he's finding our lessons adequate then. I'd hate for him to be disappointed. Or you, Natalia." Niko leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. "Tell me about you, tsvetok."

[bridgetteandherbaretta-blog]

She grinned and twisted on the spot a little, handing him the note after putting a kiss on the back of it. “I feel that we are, mon cher,” and she nodded and grinned before giving a delighted little noise. “Monaco. I haven’t been in what feels like forever. Let me get my passport, we can take my jet if you’d like?”

[the--russian]

Oh good, Monaco, she did enjoy his idea. He gently gave her a soft kiss on her mouth. "That would be fine, saves me the trouble of finding available pilots for my own." He patted his jacket in hopes of finding his passport, and damn, he didn't carry it today (or ever). "We'll have to swing by my condo first. Won't be getting far on my Visa alone." 

[nataliaandherrussianheart-blog]

"Greedy little men," and she tuned up her top lip and took a sip of her vodka as well after saluting him in return. "I’m glad to hear he’s doing well," she said before raising her brow. "He’s been trying to bulk up, he just can’t seem to put on the weight, so he tells me with much distress," and she took another sip of her drink. "Oh no, you’re getting through. I get to hear a lot of ‘Uncle Niko said…’ and ‘Uncle Niko did it like this…’," and she smiled at him fondly. "How is Vassily? Speaking of him,"

[the--russian]

"Oh is that so? He actually is interested then, that's good to hear. I've come to terms that he won't be quite like me, however, he can be plenty like Vassily--who's doing well. I haven't seen him today, though." The Russian leaned forward a little, closing the space between himself and his sister. "Natalia, you don't think I'm being too hard on him, do you?" 

[bridgetteandherbaretta-blog]

"Oh no, for old friends, the information is free," She reached into her pockets and produced a pen and paper, writing down a name and address. "Can this old friend interest their old friend in perhaps a light meal and some ridiculous flirting?"

[the--russian]

"Oh, Bridgette. You are the most wonderful." He smiled and watched her scribble down the information. "Of course, where are my manners? Sweetheart, I believe we're overdue for a dinner date. I'm thinking something more romantic and under the stars. I'm thinking Monaco?" 

[bridgetteandherbaretta-blog]

We’re cut from similar cloth you and I, of course I follow. Liberate. Hmm. I hear there’s an old man that keeps one of both locked in a safe for literally no reason then to have them. They sound like they might need your help.

[the--russian]

Sounds like it. You wouldn't happen to know where this old man keeps them, do you? Or is information that valuable pricey to even old friends?

[nataliaandherrussianheart-blog]

She nodded and headed to the bar, tossing her jacket over the nearest lounge and stepping out of her heels, leaving her bare foot on her floor. “Slow for us too. Apparently, there’s a clog in the supply line in Europe somewhere. It’s being fixed but it takes time,” and she shrugged, poured his scotch and herself a vodka straight and wandered over, hanging him his drink and plopping down next to him. “How is Lane going with his lessons?”

[the--russian]

"Bloody Europeans, huh?" He raised his glass to salut her, and instead of washing it back like the lame alcoholic that he was, he sipped and set the glass down on the coaster next to him. "Lane's doing amazing. He's incredibly talented. He needs to bulk up, though. I'm afraid he's not taking me so seriously, which is not good. Maybe Vassily will get through to him, I can only hope."

[nataliaandherrussianheart-blog]

"I haven’t call either. There’s nothing to forgive. We’ve both been busy, I’m just glad to see your face," she leaned over and kissed his cheek gently. "How have things been? Can I get you a drink?"

[the--russian]

Niko leaned in to the kiss and supplied one on her jaw line. "Slow. The way I hate them. Scotch please?" He took a seat on her sofa and watched her walk around her home. "Anything new?" 

[bridgetteandherbaretta-blog]

Are you looking to add a little something to your collection? Looking to purchase or liberate?

[the--russian]

Ahh now you follow me, velikolepny. Liberate. It'd be a shame to see rare minerals get mistreated by brutes. 

[nataliaandherrussianheart-blog]

"Good, thank you. And yourself?" and she gave another small smile and canted her head to the side. "I missed you I’ll have you know,"

[the--russian]

"I missed you too. I'm sorry I haven't called. I'm a dick. Forgive me, sestra? 

I've just been busy." 

[bridgetteandherbaretta-blog]

What don’t I know about jewels? I know they look particularly beautiful nestled into a soft cleavage or adorning long, slender fingers. Is there something particular you’d like to know?

[the--russian]

Those are all true. Especially the cleavage. But I'm meaning more on the rare and precious jewels side of things. Not quite the Hope Diamond, but, something like Tanzanite, or Red Beryl. Something not protected by museums? 

[bridgetteandherbaretta-blog]

To what pleasure do I owe your summons, mon cher?

[the--russian]

What do you know about jewels, sweetheart?

[nataliaandherrussianheart-blog]

"Thank you for coming to see me, moy milyy brat. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen your face, I was starting to think you had vanished.”

[the--russian]

"I could only wish to vanish, printsesa. How have you been feeling?" 

[sineating-saint]

Never would he be the one to throw feelings into a conversation with anyone, though the gift had made him spill unintentionally. Though he was glad that Niko didn’t go into details about the past. There were a lot of things he rather wouldn’t be reminded of. Deep in thought he stared at the glass, emptying it in one go, befor dumping his almost untouched cigarette inside. He wasn’t big on smoking, but it had a calming effect that he - today - kind of needed. Sergej rose with Niko, amusement faintly recognizable in his eyes. “A park bench in the rainy cold… sounds fine to me. My place ain’t so far away either, so only if you don’t mind me, álainn.” He probably wouldn’t have much to do or say anyway, he would hate to bore the other plus he’d have to carry the instrument. His lips twitched at the comment. “Don’t we all?” He mumbled under his breath. He waved to the bartender, a known face. The Irishman had been here so often that he wondered why he never bothered to ask for the name. He turned back to álainn with an offer. “I could accompany you back home, if you rather?”

[the--russian]

The mutt staggered there and thought his friend's offer over. It wasn't like sitting in the middle of a city park, this late at night, this drunk, wearing this suit was a safe alternative, and Sergej was kind enough to offer to play bodyguard for the occasion. Niko nodded and reached out to grab his friend's shoulder to right himself, gain some balance and not topple over. "Yeah, efirnyy. I'd be--" He hiccuped once and decided then that he should just go home. "Please, take me home." 

[the--russian]

Spar Session

[thatkidcalledlane-blog]

"I do," he said softly with a small grin. He liked doting on his uncle. He liked kissing him and touching him and doing things with him. It was special, in his mind, that he spent so much time with him. He giggled at the suggestion and blushed a little. "I might have been over the arm of the lounge, yes," he agreed and wiggled again. "I know, but Vassily has a large amount of pride in his Ukrainian side, so he let’s me know all the time about mine," and he giggled again, watching his tongue wipe over his thick bottom lip and grinned when Nikolai agreed that yes, he was yummy. He exhaled into the kiss pressed to his mouth, lips parting to allow his tongue into his mouth to taste and feel and he wiggled just a little more again.

He grunted at the friction from the grinding down into him and he arched his hips up, rubbing against him in reply and he licked his lips when they parted, blinking at the question. The answer, he thought, he was obvious. “Like-” and he paused to accept the kiss and suck on his mouth and tongue. “-I can refuse the chance to see you wet and naked,” and he wiggled. “Let’s get clean. Ish,” and he giggled and waited to be let up and took the chance to get ahead of the other man. He peeled off his shirt and dropped it and didn’t look over his shoulder to see if the other man was following him to the showers, because he knew he would be. They got up to the best fun when they had no clothes on.

[the--russian]

"Rotten." Niko slowly followed behind the boy, predator like in his steps as he watched every move the boy made. His eyes were like pendulums, stalking the sway in Lane's hips with his steps; back and forth, back and forth. Niko licked his lips as he quite literally salivated. In the showers, he lost his own shirt and let his shorts fall down to the cold, damp ground. The water that Lane had running generated a fair amount of steam already, and his own only added to the thick cloud. Nikolai stepped into the spray to wet himself down and shed the first uncomfortable layer of sweat off. "You're like a little lion-man." Niko watched Lane through the trickle of hot water. "Small--" because he was that little, "--and very brave. Cunning. Defiant yet wise enough to know when and where to fall into line." 

Niko pounced onto Lane and sent him colliding chest-first into the cold tiled wall. His own body contoured Lane's, nearly perfectly. His big, broad chest dwarfed the soft, swooping contours of Lane's shoulders and nape, his big, hard belly smothered the ribs that poked and showed through Lane's slender back and plopped right on the swoop of the boy's split, throbbing and pulsing, laid Niko's big, hard, dripping dick, begging to be used hard. He bucked his hips forward and slid the fat meat against the wet, supple flesh and gave a low, guttural growl in his nephew's ear. 

[the--russian]

Spar Session

[thatkidcalledlane-blog]

"Give me a trust fund and send me far, far away," he guessed with a small shrug and a grin. Lane was concentrating on what he was doing, thinking hard and he didn’t realise he was tensed up. He took his knocks, some of them making him swear under his breath. He stalled when his fist was collected and squeezed and his eyes shot open. Calm and relax. Right. He took a deep breath and nodded his head as his hand was let go. "One day. I’m sure at the moment they would never think that they would thank my mother for me," and he giggled a little before giving a small shrug. "Vassily told me I’ve got Ukranian in me. And as such, I’m not allowed to ever give up. Or stay down. Ever," he took a few more swings as he went. "None taken. I don’t need the competition anyway," and he grinned cheekily.

He found his soft spot in his uncle’s guard and he went for it, jabbing through and busting his lip and nose. He froze again, because he had busted Niko’s nose and mouth and he wasn’t sure if he was dead or not. “Sorry?” he attempted with a lame shrug, watching as he checked his face. His punishment was a big bear hug and he was taken down to the matt with a laugh, the big man landing over him, covering over him. “You like it when I hit you,” he teased back and he beamed at the big man. “I have to get one in every now and then right?” He wiggled under the weight, getting his legs open to wrap around hips and he leaned up, pressing a kiss to his mouth and sucking on his lip, tonguing into the split and giving a little grunt as he let go. “Vkusnyy.” he purred softly with a devious grin.

[the--russian]

Nikolai grunted when his lip was tugged and suckled on. It was a soft, affectionate sign from his nephew and he appreciated it immensely. "You like taking care of me when I'm down." And again, appreciated. "One question though. Vassily wasn't by chance fucking you over the coffee table when e told you that you have Ukrainian in you, was he? I mean--you have a little bit. Very little bit. But you're mostly Russian, you know..." And so the war continued to wage on. The Ukrainians, the Serbians, the Romanians; forever against mother Russia. Pests. He licked along his bottom lip after Lane sucked on it and he could taste the metallic liquid and something more Lane flavored lingering there with it. 

"Da," he agreed. Niko leaned down and pressed another kiss to the boy's soft, sweet mouth and his tongue went snaking in to taste more and feel more, leaving behind a little red stain from the blood. It was getting into the mat, and it was getting on his fingers and in Lane's hair and they'd need to shower before they left. Niko was positively thrilled at the idea of showering with his nephew. They always got up to no good when their clothes came off. He grinded his hips down and posed the suggestion none-too-subtle and broke the kiss long enough to ask if he wanted to spar some more, or hit the showers and clean off. "Well?" he asked and pressed one more kiss to his nephew's lips.

[the--russian]

Spar Session

[thatkidcalledlane-blog]

It bothered Lane more than he would care to admit that he wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready and he wasn’t becoming ready fast enough. If his mother and uncle were knocked off tomorrow, there was no way he would be able to hold onto or control or even fight for either of their empires. He wasn’t ready and it was bothering him and he couldn’t figure out how to be ready faster. He had the brains for this whole thing, that side he was good at. Fast and a quick learner, the non physical side he was bossing. The physical side, not so much. He gave a small laugh at the praise and the bite to his thigh, laughing again as he was tossed to the side and into the matt, rolling over a few times before he landed on his back. He whined softly, playfully when he was encouraged to stand and he rolled to his feet. “Actually, I’m pretty sure we do,” he corrected as he wandered over, stretching up and over so his back cracked and oh was that the stuff.

His own knuckles were bleeding, having been worked as well (see, he wasn’t that soft). “Tem ne meneye eto ne malo,” he said with a light pout and he threw caution to the wind and in he went. His punches were at least in the proper form, no broken wrists here. He did his best to work past his uncle’s guard, a few hooks and straight jabs, a few fake outs and the occasional upper cut. He was brushed aside, smacked back a little but all in all, he was expecting that. He was attempting to find a weak spot, a soft spot in Nikolai’s guard, find and in so at the end of the day, he could at least say that he had gotten in a hit fair and square. He knew the roll over had been given to him, as a confidence boost, but this time, this time he wanted to be able to claim something for real.

[the--russian]

"What's your mother to do with you," he teased. He let Lane take his hits and a few of them actually hurt. Niko blocked a handful of them and saw what it was that Lane had to offer. Speed and endurance. Vassily's territory entirely. Niko had brawn and brute, but Vassily had the speed and endurance. Together, they were well-rounded. Lane would have to one day find his counterpart. One solid hit to the chest and he was out of breath again. Niko took Lane's fist and squeezed it tight in his own. Spokoynym. Rasslab'tes'." He let go of Lane's fist. "The bratva will thank your mother for your services one day. I've never seen one of them take a hit as many times as you. Must be that Ukrainian part you and Vassily have in you." He grinned and let the boy take some more swings. "I may be Russkiy, but I'll never be bratva. No offense to you and you mother." Jacob's hard work was too important to him and he'd follow the Abros until he was assassinated. 

Lane managed to land one in Niko's face, busting his lip and nose open so that blood slowly trickled out. "Ow," he said, clamping his hand over his face instantly. "You little shit, you actually got me." Niko was delighted underneath his irritated facade. He checked his nose, smiled when he saw the bright red blood  and in an act to restore his good name, he bear hugged the boy and took him back down to the mat, landing softly on top of him. Now he was just playing. "Like beating on your uncle? Hm? Think it's funny hitting an old man?" He gave the boy a soft, playful slap on his cheek. "Proud of ya'." 

[sineating-saint]

He felt relieved when he saw how happy he was with his answer. For a second he’d thought that he’d done something to make Niko doubt him. There was nothing more dangerous to him than to fail. He’d failed his macushla, he’d like for it to be the last thing he failed at protecting. “I know.” Finally Sergej put the glass to his lips, trying to chase away the tiny spread of cold between his ribs. It didn’t burn like the first time, but he felt the alcohol slowly eat away the bits and pieces of his insides. "I’m honored that you think of me that way, álainn." The shy and rare smile returned to his face, wile he set down his half empty glass. Sergej shook his head as he remembered the day of his release. "Don’t remind me. It was a stupid idea of a time out. Me sorry ass didn’ thank me mind for doin’ it." He shook his head again, laughing.

[the--russian]

Back onto the touchy-feely subjects that Niko was no good with navigating through. He didn't think with his heart, he thought with his dick and the rest fell into place. He gave Sergej one more smile, a wink to go with it and he was standing up and paying their bill. "Alright, Saint John. I think I'm gonna' go find myself a park bench to stagger to until I sober up a little bit. You're free to join me, or take your lucky arse home. But lemme' know when you get home safe when you get there, yeah?" He stood and wobbled a little in place, laughed at himself as the night's drinking caught up with him. "Love that warm feeling."