Shadow: I wrote this up because someone was harassing one of my favourite artists who drew something akin to this uwu

Disclaimer: Not mine in the slightest

Warnings: Dubcon, drug use (cocaine)

A breeze drifted in from the half-open window, drapes and loose papers fluttering from the wind. "Close the window," a husky voice demanded from the table, rolling up the hundred dollar bill and deft fingers clutching shakily around a credit card as they began to crunch down on a pile of fine white powder, herding it into neat, long lines. "Gonna ruin my lines."

"Your hands are shaking. Calm down." One hand, larger than those that clutched at the money and the credit card, slid behind the drapes to slide the window shut as the other held a cigarette between three fingers- European style- as smoke wafted between thin lips. The larger of the two came back to sit beside his companion, hand sliding between his shoulder blades to rub away the knots of tension. "Let it all slip away."

There was obvious hesitance from the blond beside him, staring down at the lines before him. "No problem... Done this before. Bunches of times." Adam's apple bobbing with his blatant lies, the blond clenched the rolled up dollar bill a little tighter.

"Just lean down...and inhale," that deep, smooth as silk voice urged in his ear, whispering so that only he could hear- those words were special, just for him. Twisting his thoughts like the a devil's plaything. Another drag on the cigarette and smoke billowing out and rolling out before them, bumping a few of the lines. "Go on, Alfred."

Alfred hesitantly straightened the lines again and nodded. Now or never. He leaned down, the rolled bill held to his nose as he slid it along the line and inhaled deeply. The power snuffed up his nostril and right into his brain. He coughed and sniffed, pulling up with a desperate gasp. It was a difficult feeling to comprehend.

"Again, the next line," the other urged in his accented voice, thick with smoke and obvious contempt. But Alfred did as he was told, entranced by the tone and the demanding words, so soft and yet undercut with the firmness and command of structure that Alfred needed in his life. He snuffed up the next line through the other nostril, feeling a little woozy this time.

He leaned against the couch, whimpering and muscles going lax, the dollar bill sliding from his fingers. He felt hot, body pulsing with something he'd never felt before. He gasped, cerulean eyes going wide as he felt a hand moving along his body; his side, his stomach, his thigh... "What're you doin'?" he slurred out, looking down at the hand and debating whether or not to freak out. His mind felt so...fresh? So clean cut, like a fresh summer breeze was running through his brain.

The cigarette resting between his companion's lips burned brightly in the grey-esque scenery. A little devilish torch that burned to light the way. But perhaps not to somewhere quite as light and fluffy with angels singing praise like the fairy tales wanted Alfred to believe.

"Exploring." The same hand that Alfred had questioned was soon plucking at the button of his jeans, tugging at the zipper. But before it could go further, it retreated and snatched up the fallen dollar bill, re-rolling it. Alfred's lips formed into an 'o' as he watched Ivan leaned down and snort up the other two lines, sniffing and wiping his nose on the back of his hand before he tossed the makeshift straw onto the table.

With a shuddering breath, shoulders shaking out the kinks and the adrenaline rush from the initial snort, the Russian turned back, picking up his previously discarded cigarette and leaning in to press their faces together. The atmosphere felt grey and melancholy, so dreary, and yet so alive. Alfred whimpered as his face was gripped, feeling Ivan's fingers, clad in gloves, digging into his jaw and tilting his head towards him, their lips almost touching.

"You know what to do, yes?" the Russian breathed out, smoke still escaping him. The cigarette was discarded and their lips joined. But there was no affection... Only power and lust, and Alfred was a slave to it all. He was an addict not just to the powder on the table now.

They had only just recently met, yet here they were in such an intimate setting. Alfred felt like they were long lost brothers- or perhaps life-long friends? Alfred felt like his body was on fire. He clutched at Ivan's head as he kissed back, eyes squeezed tightly shut. The hand gripping his jaw squeezed, making him whimper and the very same hand shifted spots to slide into his hair and pushed, too hard to be tender.

The fire of his high hit him harder than he could have imagined. Ivan said it would be gradual- perhaps it had been, but there was nothing to shield him from the complex feelings he had. He felt so angry, so energized, so lustful. But at the same time he couldn't move, couldn't bring himself to do anything with his body.

"Come on," Ivan urged, grip tightening in his hair. He gave in, purely to release the grip, like fire in his scalp. Ivan wasn't even holding that hard. Pants were discarded and tossed away like trash, teeth gripping onto the fabric of Russian made boxers to slide the sizable cock through the slit in the fabric. "No teeth," he reminded him as his large hand slid through his hair and pushed his head down, practically suffocating him in his musk.

Alfred gasped for air, head spinning. He groaned and latched onto the cock before him, grasping with both hands and slurping obscenely. He felt starved and famished- how could he have ever thought he could go so long without Ivan's cock before? He couldn't believe he'd ever gone more than a second without the pulsing hot flesh between his lips. He moaned and shivered, sucking vigourously. "Mnnph..."

"That's it...just like that..." There was a flash of light in the dry and grey scene as Ivan lit up a match to catch his new cigarette. Just like Alfred seemed to be unable to go without his cock for more than a moment, he couldn't go without the smoke. He was accustomed to the high, unlike Alfred. The poor child... He was probably feeling all sorts of things he wasn't used to. Oh well, he would have to figure it out for himself. So long as he didn't bite while he did so.

Coughs filled the air as Alfred pulled off Ivan's cock, saliva dripping down his chin and eyes tearing up. He leaned into the palm that attempted to swipe his tears away. He was desperate for guidance- not just for this, for everything. He hiccuped, whimpering at the thought that after this he would be left to his own devices. he couldn't to that... He needed the structure. He needed to be told what to do.

Alfred wasn't sure which way he was being pulled, up or down, towards Ivan's lips or his cock. He scrabbled to take a grip at Ivan's thick thighs and pushed up and away from both. He shook his head, pushing away and back until he was resting against the arm of the couch, breathing hard. He was panicking on the inside. A lot. Ivan wanted something from him that he wasn't sure if he could give.

The Russian's thick body was on top of him, cold lips pressing against his neck, making him squirm in both delight and terror. He mouthed out 'no'. He wasn't ready for something like this- his first time was supposed to be special. Not drugged up and forced. This...was force, wasn't it? But Ivan was being so gentle, so soft to the touch now... Alfred didn't want to, but at the same time... Hadn't he lead Ivan on...? Should he give it up then, if he'd lead Ivan to believe that he would? He shouldn't have gone down on him.

"You want it." Alfred didn't dare refute the words; too scared to. His white hot brain was so befuddled and so haunted with the thought that the larger man could hurt him. He was in all out survival mode. "You want it, your body is begging for me." Alfred just winced at the nips and bites at his neck and pulled away. He shouldn't have lead Ivan on...

There was little the blond could do besides lay there and accept the affection the other was pushing on him. He deserved it... He'd gotten himself into this, he might as well go through with it. He whimpered and tried to accept the harsh lovebites and the rough kisses that Ivan forced on his neck.

With no opposition, the Russian only got rougher and more violent. He might as well have been gnawing holes through Alfred's throat, ripping and tearing at his clothes to get at the defenseless body beneath them. Alfred's clothing was torn to shreds, his pale little body, having seen little to no daylight in years, awaiting wreckage.

Alfred was a sheltered, spoiled child. He was upper class, he was unused to feeling so powerless- but it wasn't the loss of power he was mourning. He wasn't mourning much of anything, really... He lay beneath the large Russian, ripe for the taking. Ivan wasn't like Alfred. He was hardened from his time in the icy streets and the unforgiving people who took advantage of the soft and the weak, like Alfred appeared to be. Ivan knew Alfred was lying when he said he'd done lines before. The way he rolled the dollar bill too tightly, the way he snorted so slow. How nervous he was... Alfred was popping more than one cherry that night. Quite a few, in fact.

But he could say, the boy gave a fitting blowjob; Ivan could tell that definitely was not Alfred's first of the kind.

A soft whimper was the only response as cold hands delved deeper, sliding between Alfred's legs and grasping at the half-hard flesh of his loins. The Russian smirked, lips tugging up too wide to be sincere as he reached into his coat pocket and revealed the bottle of lubricant he had prepared. "I expected this." From the look on his face, Alfred obviously hadn't.

Preparation went by painstakingly slow. Alfred seemed to be resisting, albeit weakly. Ivan ignored it and pressed in deeper, stretching wider. He would need to be stretched if they were going to achieve actual intercourse and get anywhere with it.

Initial penetration hurt. A lot. A lot a lot. Alfred started crying. But he grit his teeth and bit his lips and rubbed at his eyes with a whimper. He was spread out and stretched too wide to ever be comfortable- Ivan was huge. Think and long. The length wasn't the problem, it was his girth. Too thick for his virgin body to handle.

The tears shed were quickly wiped away. "I'm sorry, don't cry... It's almost done, it'll feel better soon," Ivan hushed as he kissed over the boy's cheeks, sweeping away his tears. "Just quiet down... So well for a virgin. I love the feeling. I'm going to enjoy having you like this. You can use this as your payment for the powder." He hiked Alfred's legs around his waist and speared him on his thick shaft. "This will do just fine..."

Alfred couldn't respond the way he wanted, head too muggy, too stopped up. He was an idiot for doing this, for agreeing... But it was happening so he better just grit his teeth and move on. He turned his head and bit into the musky couch pillow to keep from making too much noise. Unfortunately...Ivan didn't seem to enjoy that. Alfred whimpered as his jaw was forced back up to look up at smouldering amethyst eyes that stared right through his soul. Ivan knew just how to pierce through everything in his being.

"Don't hide your noises." Yet Ivan wanted him to quiet down? Or perhaps just not cry. Alfred was confused and in pain... He closed his eyes and sobbed brokenly as his body was used until broken. The high numbed his pain soon enough, but not enough to make it entirely painless. And he had thought that it would be without anguish. That was all drugs had been advertised to him, after all... And to his horror it felt amazing, in his head, in his cock, everywhere, where only moments before it had been distinguishably agonizing.

The room was quiet, save for the static on television as background noise to drown out their activities to the neighbors. A flustered blond lay under the larger Russian, coming down from his high. His head felt like it was being split open with a jackhammer. Tears streamed down his cheeks and he slid out from beneath Ivan, crawling away and pulling on his closing as best as he could. He ran, crying and sobbing weakly. He felt weak and pathetic.

Alfred hid for days. How long had it been? He wasn't sure. He was still shaken by the experience- everything reminded him of it. Everything urged him to go back. His body ached for one more snort of powder. He burned for it.

He found himself running back to the apartment he'd taken his first snuff, given his first time, where he'd felt truly alive for the first time in months. Ivan met him at the door and held up the little baggie of white powder, giving the comforting words,

"I will take care of you, moi lapushka... Oh don't worry. I'll take care of you." So long as Alfred took care of him. "'Til death do us part, yes? Hoho... Oh. Yes."