The shagging room

Chapter 3

For a short, blissful moment, none of them make a move. The silence of the room is only disturbed by the sound of them both collecting their breaths, and Maxim is the first to act, slowly detaching his mouth from the side of Timur's neck. He can see the other's gaze is fixated on the wall, cheeks reddened and eyes unfocused, surely ashamed of what just happened.

"You okay?", Maxim tries, because he suddenly feels way less bold than he was a second before.

Timur's grip on his elbow loosens, and Maxim removes his hands from Timur's crotch. He backs up a bit, already missing the warmth that was covering every inch of his body. He wipes his hand on his joggers, and peers down at his own groin. Well.

A grumble answers him, and he looks back at the younger man just to see him turn around with a sigh. The other adjusts his pants and sits down unceremoniously on the bench, a good distance from the now soiled wall. Avoiding his gaze, Maxim mirrors the movement and sits down facing Timur. He peers up again and opens his mouth, but he sees how Timur is about to speak as well and shuts it off – the other has the same reaction, and they both snort awkwardly, averting their gaze. This is ridiculous. Timur doesn't seem mad, though, and his cheeks are still flushed red. Maxim thinks it's adorable.

"This", Timur comments first, "was a bold move."
Maxim can't deny. On the other hand – he's not blind, he had noticed the stares for quite some time by now, even though Timur had always been excellent at hiding them. When he entered the room earlier, conclusions were easy to draw given the late hour, the sketchbook tossed on the bench, and the other man turned away with ears so traitorously red. Maxim saw an opportunity and took it, but now he has to admit he doesn't know what to expect from the aftermath of this, neither did he really think about it. Thank God he doesn't have such horrible impulse control on the battlefield.

So he just nods, looking at Timur without wanting to stare, instead glaring at the slightly slumped shoulder where he can see the imprint of his teeth. He may have gone a little bit overboard. Hopefully it'll wear off after a day. More hopefully, it won't.

"Want me to return the favor?", a surprisingly collected voice asks him.

Maxim gets thrown off of his train of thought and locks his gaze with Timur's. It's the first time this evening he actually sees his eyes, and he gets lost in them for a second. Getting no answer, the younger man slumps forward, dropping his elbows on his knees and gestures vaguely towards Maxim's crotch. Ah, yes, this.

His short introspection and the awkwardness of it all got him softening, but Maxim is still sporting a raging hard-on under his sweatpants, which is showcased by the fact that he's sitting down legs spread open - a habit he still has to kick.
Maxim drags his eyes back to Timur's and spies the usual spark of self-confidence coming back in his gaze, suddenly transforming the apparent ashamed facade into something else that is quite interesting to look at. It's only been a few seconds, but the atmosphere has changed, and he feels that something, like an unsaid and implicit challenge, crept its way between the two of them. Maxim doesn't think much more, he simply takes the plunge.
"I mean, you weren't just about to leave me hanging like this, were you?", he asks in return.

Timur stays silent for a short moment, and Maxim fears he's blown it. But after a few seconds the younger man breaks eye contact, pushes his elbows off his legs and gets up. Maxim watches as Timur approaches him. Will he sit down next to him, or ask him to stand up? Maxim thinks he can't stand getting a handjob while facing the other, it's... frankly bordering on being too much, right now. Maybe he'll tell him. In the meantime...
Timur steps in front of him, and Maxim drags his gaze up to meet his eyes, hands awkwardly propped into his lap.
He understands he miscalculated the whole thing when Timur cautiously drops to his knees.