#whatcaniwritehereelse

[uhblyat]

Hi everyone!! I ' ve already posted this fic on ao3 and ficbook , but i I thought it would be nice to post it here too. I bet it's not an explicit content, but it's half of it😆😆

Closer to five in the morning, the summer gentle sun rose, awakening the sensitive nature outside the window. It slid along the trunks and branches of trees, casting long black shadows on the ground; the outlines of objects in the apartment become clearer under the influence of the rays. The fresh morning air replaced the oppressive atmosphere of the night, which no longer had any right to host: the rare roll call of birds mixed with the rustle of green foliage literally took your breath away, creating a feeling of serenity. Such a soft, warm, and genuine morning. The very beginning of the day, when the forces fill your soul, breathing in hope and carrying it through the doubts of the mind. The waves have washed away the footprints in the sand, and the wind is singing its strange song. Meanwhile, Aleksi is not sleeping either: an unknown force lifts him out of bed and calls him to action: in this case, you need to wake up the Olli with the miracle phrase "Are you asleep???" when he sees the tenth dream, but Kaunisvesi decides that only a kiss from a loved one awakens the princess, so he bends down and carefully covers his lips with Matela's, after which he whispers softly in his ear,

—Get up, stop sleeping,— and while he turns around, pointing out about twenty ways where Aleksi can go early now, the percussionist attentively silently watches from the side, not even thinking about ending the torture. Of course, his boyfriend is interested in what the fuck Aleksi is lifting him up for, to which Kaunisvesi waves him off and literally jumps out of bed,

— I came up with something ,Olli, it's just awful how cool, get up, please, we need to do everything just now, while the sun is not at its zenith and Mercury is not Retrograde, come on, please, please, you love me, and brazenly presses on a weak spot, already triumphant in his thoughts about victory and anticipating the upcoming aesthetic delight. Ten minutes later, the bassist throws off the blanket, gets out of bed and slowly, barely stepping over, crawls into the bathroom, and Aleksi, almost bouncing, follows from behind. A plaid falls on Olli's broad shoulders while he swears at this hateful day and no less, at the moment, an annoying little boy who literally erases the last day off from a busy Matela. Kaunisvesi decides that the best way out of the situation at the moment is to escape from an angry man and quickly clean up the mess in the kitchen, because curly is unlikely to appreciate such cleanliness and will definitely force the little one to make a cocktail with Mr. Proper.

It takes only twenty minutes to do this: skillful hands quickly wipe the plates with a sponge and rinse the mugs; immediately putting the dishes in their place. When the water stops flowing almost simultaneously in the bathroom and in the kitchen, something clicks in the dark-haired man's brain and he leaves for a second, bringing two stools into the shower, placing one after the other. On the first one, which is closer to the mirror, he seats Olli, whose face clearly expresses misunderstanding, and he settles on the second piece of furniture, burying his fingers in curls and fingering them. A hand reaches out to a white cabinet and takes out different jars— Alexiarchy has long reigned in this house, which means that all the shelves will be filled with different bottles of his intricately shaped care products, they will definitely not fit into one compartment and will be scattered in different drawers. In one of the palms there is a silver spray bottle with varnish, and in the other, which becomes momentarily free, a wooden comb with sparse teeth. Kauniswesi lifts up a little to see Matela in the mirror, and begins to comb his hair, sometimes twisting and pushing the strands in different directions to make sure his decisions about the hairstyle are correct. The percussionist notices out of the corner of his eye how the victim of his bullying is struggling He tries not to fall asleep, barely opening his eyelids, and this, of course, flatters, forcing him to take pity and do everything faster, speeding up the process of freeing the prisoner of inexhaustible ideas. The comb turns out to be in his teeth, and his fingers fix the hair in the right position, immediately patching the curl,

—Hold your breath for a second, please,—Aleksi asks and continues to fasten the curls. Having achieved the desired effect of elevation after a while, the guy begins to work on the main part of the head, now kneeling on a chair. Conjuring over the patches for another half hour and, finally, having finished with the image for them, Kaunisvesi proceeds to probably his most favorite thing: on the dressing table there are pallets and various tubes with viscous contents, unknown to anyone. The dark—haired man moves to Olli's hips and stays there, throwing his leg over, hinting at the hopelessness of the situation, — I'll put some shadows here and that's it, honestly, - lies, and brazenly and to his face. Actually, as always. Soft brushes soon and often fall on the skin of the face, creating a dark haze, the moist core of the eyeliner touches the place below the mucous membrane, in the area of eyelash growth, and draws the curve of the eye, focusing on the lower eyelid. A couple more strokes, a couple of drooling cotton swabs—Olli doesn't disdain, does he? And thank the gods, as well as the ruined disks: now, Aleksi is not sitting in front of a familiar lover, but a godlike lover, which is what Kaunisvesi was trying to achieve. After admiring his work for a minute or two, the guy notices the missing element and goes after yesterday's parcel, grabbing scissors and hastily cutting the cardboard along with the tape. All sorts of rubbish almost falls to the floor, and the percussionist sits down, now carefully examining the ordered items.The gaze immediately clings to a metal replica of a thorn wreath with thorns, so he quickly unpacks it and hooks it on Matela's head. After sending the stalls with the request "Do we have at least something to chew?!", Kaunisvesi decides to take care of himself and takes off his robe, completely exposing himself and sitting in front of the mirror.

With a large brush, he randomly applies black pigment to the neck and collarbones, enters the chest and shades the edges. Now he is dirty, smeared and at the same time vulgar. A cold chain helps to add peppercorns to the image: it is attached just below the adam's apple, thin stripes flow in different directions from the middle, imitating the bones of the ribs, and the catchy hanging stones on the solar plexus cannot leave indifferent even those far from art. Aleksi's eyelid makeup is extremely different: a neat haze turns into bold strokes, now flaunting on the blind furrow, temples are also decorated with shadows; eyebrows are laid with gel and clear boundaries of their shape are drawn. The image creates a feeling of complete rebellion, avant-garde and a pinch of sharpness; it remains to add pity to the look and form a nest on the head, which Kaunisvesi, of course, did an excellent job with.

The aroma of fresh coffee wafts from the kitchen, and even among these tart notes, a dark-haired man can catch the smell of unique classics: sandwiches made of rye bread, processed cheese and cucumber along with tomatoes. And there's a hunting sausage on top, but a little bit of it so that it's not greasy. Bare feet barely move on the floor, and the guy is already peering through the door jamb, closely watching Matela's actions. He, as the most caring and gentle chosen one, prepares the table for a meal and lays out kitchen appliances, while Aleksi, in his place, would simply throw the dish in his face and fork along with it, calmly saying "Fuck you" and hiding in another room. But no, in the place of such an ignoramus, the kind Olli, who will serve food, and wipe his mouth, and kiss his forehead, — and meanwhile, the dark-haired man was already sitting his ass at the table,— there is more in the house than a guy who clearly does not want to learn manners. — And what are we going to do?,— it comes from another part of the kitchen and Kaunisvesi looks up from the food, looking at her lover,

— So, listen, only carefully! You are my god, I am your sinner. You are the arbiter of earthly destinies, who noticed another mortal for violating the laws and subsequently arranged for him to be judged in heaven. Like the ancient Greek goddess Themis, only in an improved version,"eating a sandwich, Aleksi sometimes stopped to chew food,

—Do you know her? Themis was an ancient Greek goddess associated with divine law, order and justice. She was known for her sharp mind and impartiality, acting as the personification of justice with scales in one hand and blindfolded, which enhanced the effect of a cold mind. She was also associated with wisdom, because indirectly she controlled divination and clairvoyance. And, of course, in front of me, a violator of all the rules, you couldn't resist. Don't worry, nothing below the torso will be visible, at the level of the end of the ribs at most,— grinning, he bypasses Olli's sidelong glance and reproach about clothes, washes down pieces of coffee with milk and rises from his seat,

—I really wanted us to have a beautiful shared photo. And so I can't shame you by just taking a picture of us kissing against the background of some boring nature,— coming closer and tracing the outline of Matela's nose with the tip of her finger, Aleksi smiles and takes her partner's hand,

—Let's go?

Both are standing on a white background in the bedroom, Kaunisvesi is constantly running, fussing and putting a small mirror in front of the couple soon standing together. Having straightened his hair several times and tousled it even more, he stares at the reflection, poses and moves to the deputy of Themis, starting to build up his position,

—So you take this in your left hand, and holds out a sophisticated golden scale, on the pallet of which there are rose petals, — note, only on one side, — Extend your arm, do not bend at the elbow. Lower. Even lower. Now bend over and come to me a little bit. Yeah, put your finger on the long beam and make the scales unbalanced so that the part with the flowers hangs down. Here! Great, you 're doing well. Look straight at the camera, a stern, confident look. Well, no, not like you're ready to kill me, on the contrary, — when a percussionist thinks about his eyes, he completely forgets about the bandage and takes it out of the piled things. It has already collapsed and got dirty, but this apparently does not bother the guy,

—Stand still, — and places the fabric around his neck in an untied state. The ends of the tattered rags fall on the right shoulder, it does not waver at all from touching and Aleksi unconditionally likes it ,— THAT'S RIGHT!!! Bring your eyebrows together a little, the corners of your lips go down a little. Just a relaxed state, okay? Well, don't lower your lower jaw too much, just close your teeth inside. Now put your right hand on my chin, as if hugging me from below. And hold it, lifting it a little towards you. I'll look up to you, you don't react. The palm falls to the right place and slightly squeezes the convex bone, and Kaunisvesi follows his own plan, and, now staring so pitifully, helplessly and sadly, bites his lower lip at the last moment. The timer goes off after ten seconds and the photo is immediately saved on the device, the dark—haired man hurries to look at the result and admires the picture he took,

—Look, we turned out so good here, it's just so sexy, even multiplied by ten to the third power! Well, judge for yourself, — showing the result to Olli, Aleksi stares so hard that his smile doesn't crack at the seams, "Wait,maybe another one?" — and when the lover gives up, realizing that there is hardly any more If they manage to protest, the percussionist puts the camera back and sets the time for the picture. While Matela does not have time to come to his senses, Kaunisvesi stands on tiptoes and wraps his arms around his neck, clinging to a silk beige fabric that artfully flows over his body; arching his lower back and fixing himself in one position while he kisses his chosen one for the second time in a day; and even very cheekily, as a real sinner should, licking his own with the tip sticky drooling from his lower lip; and he is amused by this, because power over God is inherent only to the creator, but here the soul was taken over by a vicious earthly one who does not know what he is doing. The click symbolizes the photo taken, Aleksi does not want to pull away, but he has to. After looking at the result, he grins and stretches contentedly, hanging himself around his neck again,

—But I'll put the last frame on my wallpaper. And you have to do the same with the first one, don't worry, I remember that you're shy,— Kaunisvesi runs his fingers over the back of his head, feels the literally frozen curls and slightly bows his head,

—What if people'd look at your lockscreen? And here is such a shame, such a perversion… Anyway, I'll edit it on my laptop, transfer it later and send it, okay? You're my most beautiful,— Alex said, running his hand over Olli's cheek, then smeared his shadows a little, drawing thin lines down,

—Let me take a picture of you?