I Think That Price Likes To Nerd About Things. He And Nik Both Do, But The Thing About John Is That Once

(Fugitive)Nikolai needing to lay low somewhere so he wouldn’t get captured and brought to the Gulag so he flees to a small town in England where there are small quaint shops on every corner, and if you were to go down just a little further, there’d be a few neighborhoods with beautiful houses/apartments.

Upon arrival, the soldiers who were looking for him had already gotten there first(much to his dismay), and just as they turned a corner he ducked into a flower shop and behind the counter, not even noticing the man standing there.

The soldiers eventually came in and looked around for a bit before asking the man if he’d seen someone come in matching Nik’s description, and to the Russian’s surprise, he said no and told which shops the men could check because they had “good hiding places”.

As they filed out with a brief ‘thanks’ he waited til’ the were far far away before slowly rising to thank the man properly, stopping upon seeing his beautiful features.

The flower shop worker had brown hair and blue eyes that seemed like they’d look ethereal in the sunlight, even as they looked at him with skepticism. He also had a well kept beard and mustache, trimmed to perfection. He wore a white shirt with brown pants that hugged his body in every way(deliciously), and on top was a beige apron with a name tag that read John.

Nik found himself smitten, cheeks heating up and mouth opening and closing like a fish. That was until the man— sorry— John had grabbed him by the ear and pulled the giant Russian towards him.

“You get me and my shop into any trouble and I’ll cut you like a rose, understand?”

Oh how Nik loved his voice. Loved how deep and rough it was despite having an odd smoothness to it. Like a rose.

He suddenly felt a pair of sharp gardening scissors at his throat and broke out of his daydreams.

“Understand.”

The scissors left his throat(much to his relief).

As John was getting ready to go to another task, Nik looked around himself for a second before turning back to the Brit.

“Uh- where is your nearest.. uh- mini hotel?”

“Excuse me?”

“Your mini hotels.” Nik says again. “Uhm.. like the smaller hotels that are usually on the side of the road?”

It takes John a second before he realizes and stops himself from laughing at the criminal across from him. Hell, he looked as if he’d skin him alive and use him as fish bait.

“You mean a motel?” He asks with a small smirk, continuing to sweep. “It’s a few minutes away from here near the butcher shop and candy store.”

“Ah, a motel, yes.” Nik nods, trying to appear cool and collected as he gathered what little bearings he had before going to the door. “Uh.. thank you..?”

“John, and you?”

“Nikolai.” He replied, his name rolling off his tongue roughly due to nervousness.

“Nikolai.” John says, and Nik damn near falls out at the way his name rolls off the florists tongue(he wondered what it’d sound like when he was being fucked).

After their brief conversation, Nik makes his trek to the motel and gets a room that’s, albeit, a bit nicer than some of the hotels he’s stayed at throughout his years of running.

He lays down for a bit to settle his nerves and goes to shower, thoughts lingering back to the beautiful florist he’d met just minutes prior to coming here and wonders if he could go back to the shop tomorrow to see him again, if he’d even be there.

Shoot, maybe he’d get to know the man. Know his likes and dislikes, what makes him tick, what got him into the gardening business, things of that nature(and maybe more if he’s lucky).

This is amazing

Nikolai can't help but get hard when he's massaging John, digging his thumbs into the other man's shoulders and releasing him from the hold his tension has on him.

Because John makes the same noises that he does when he's sinking down on the pilot's cock and making a show of riding him, playing with his tits as he throws his head back, wanton moans falling from his lips.

Uhhhh John grabbing at Nik’s full hairy man tits while riding him uhmmmm and moaning like he owns them hmmmm Nik groping at John’s fat ass urmmmmmmm and grinning because he does own it uhhhhhhh..

(FancyEventSinger)Price performing at a very, very high end (and over priced) restaurant, the band switching from slow orchestras to upbeat jazz and the guests either conversing with one another or swaying to the music.

(MafiaBoss)Nikolai sitting at the bar and quietly sipping his whiskey while listening to the siren-like voice coming from the stage(if he were a sailor lost at sea, he’d surely be dead by now).

Nik stared at him as if he were in a trance, eyes longing, soul wanting, hands tapping against his glass, mind wondering if he could get the gorgeous performer to sing his name like a hymn.

He wanted him, and by all means he was going to get him.

Whoever created words and English can fuck themselves, because what the fuck do you mean there’s a G in lasagna and it just stays silent?

As a matter of fact, who thought it was a good idea to add silent letters to English??

Long story short, English is dumb, and I’m an essay behind.

I’m so sorry I know Nik is a man of stamina but the first time he ever has Simon and John on their knees, together, eyes looking up at him, half lidded and dazed, mouths meeting for a dirty kiss over his cock?

He’s painting their faces with a pained groan, staring at the ceiling because if he looks down to see their mouths open, tongues out and coated in him, he’s going to have a heart attack

Then proceeds to listen to the other two share a kiss, all tongue and spit and Nik

Somewhere out there, in the infinities that exist, there probably exists a version of John Price who hates himself for liking men. More than he ever does in this one. (Religious trauma btw)

He hates himself for loving Nik, for letting down his defenses in front of him. He watches the man slip through his office door, and the gap in his heart widen when the russian slips off his jacket.

He shouldn't be doing this. This is a sin against god. He could hear his father's boots getting closer somewhere in the background. The belt clinking echoes in his mind. He looks at the beau in front of him, all warm and inviting, yet disgust could only bloom in place of whatever romantic feelings he would have felt for him.

It felt wrong to enjoy the man's attention, to crave him so deep in his heart, he's afraid he can't tear it out and stop it. It feels like a crime against god, against his father, a man he could never compete with to let the man disarm him so easily. Dirt and sweat might not stick to his skin, but no amount of scrubbing under hot water could remove the disgust he feels for himself for even wanting Nik.

He doesn't look up at the pilot as he sits opposite him, talking about something irrelevant. John feels fucking dirty for even wanting Nik's eyes on him. What was he? A proper slut waiting to be appraised? He wants to set himself on fire, to remove his skin entirely, to be laid out under the sun, tortured, only if it means stopping the feelings he has for Nik. He wants to pray for forgiveness for a god that has long since abandoned him, and every second of smelling Nik's cologne so close to him only serves as a reminder that he was disgusting.

"Get out. For Christ sakes, get out"

He doesn't look up, his hands never stop as he writes and writes. A confession to some higher being, to cleanse him of all sin. A recycled prayer he heard from conversion camp years ago cycles through his head, the guilt all consuming in his heart. He deserves to rot in hell for his delusions, that Nik would ever like him back, that he would accept John for what he is. He ignores the confused russian muttering opposite him, focusing his attention on an uncaring god for cursing him with these feelings.

He doesn't look up as he hears the door close with a soft click after Nikolai.

Hours later, John sits alone in his office, halfway through a frantic prayer. A plea for help, a guidance to change his ways. The cross sits heavily across his chest, a reminder of his illogical feelings towards Nik. He thinks about what he's done, how it had all led up to this moment, his breaking. John doesn't move from his spot from the window, tears quietly streaming down his face as he mumbles out another prayer. His throat is sore and his knees are aching, yet the internalized disgust doesn't go away, nor does his feelings for Nik.

He avoids Nik the next month in a futile attempt to curb the feelings before they get out of hand. It doesn't work, and the longing for his the pilot's (when did he start to refer to Nik as his? Christ he must be cursed) attention only grows stronger each day he denies himself of Nik. His attention feels like a need now, an ever growing sense of guilt and shame blanketing over his need for Nik. The need only grows stronger when he sees Nik chatting up some guy years younger than him, unfamiliar jealousy grows in him as Nik ushers the man into his car, disappearing from view.

He would rather carve out his heart and serve it to god himself before ever admitting to wanting Nikolai in his life, in his bed though.

Imagining a 15 year old John Price coming home from school and seeing his father passed out on the floor in his own vomit and thinking, “Not again” before getting a towel to clean it and propping him up against the couch before going to do his homework.

An hour later when he comes back down to get a snack(aka: whatever he could find in the cupboards), he notices that his father hadn’t moved an inch and goes to check on him, crouching beside the man and grabbing his face.

That’s when he notices the blueish gray hue on his face and the fact that he’s not taking his deep, rattling breaths like usual, and soon he comes to the realization that Johnathan Price Sr. is dead.

His father is dead.

I don’t think he cries. Not for a good while. Instead, I think he just sits and stares at his father’s corpse with varying expressions shifting from anger to despair, to resentment, and even to one of pity.

I also think he yells at his father. Shouting profanities and things like, “I hope you rot in hell!”, or “So you think you can just leave and take the easy way out?! Drunken asshole!”

And once he’s gotten it all out of his system, then and only then does he allow himself to breakdown and cry, clutching his father’s hand to his forehead and squeezing it tight because— he was the only person he had left, even if he was a drunk who beat him over the head with a belt because his mom’s death was his fault. And now he’s gone.

And Johnathan’s alone.

Imagine NikPrice wearing one of those corny but funny couple shirts and Nik’s says, “I come in peace”, while Price’s says, “I’m peace”.

Firm believer in sassy/bratty!price supremacy.