Aleksey/Drake - Slave bois meet.
Who: Aleksey/Drake When: Currentish, shortly after boarding Where: Slave Quarters - their cabin What: (NC-17) Two slave roomies meet for the first time. Snarking, crying, vomiting, and a BJ to top it off.
Aleksey leans over the side of his bunk and vomits into the bucket for the third time this hour. Nothing but water comes out now as it's all he's had since the seasickness set in. When he first learned he had been sold yet again and would serve on a cruise ship, he had actually thought it would be a step up from that dirty Prague brothel. Now, with his head spinning and his stomach twisted in a knot, he's not so sure about that. When he's empty and can wretch no more, Alek lays back in his bunk, moaning pitifully. "дерьмо." (Shit)
Drake is nervous, as he looks for his new room. The ship's movements are odd and unwelcome, but thankfully, he seems to have a solid stomach. Maybe it was made strong by years of slave dorm food. But he has seen enough green looking slaves on his way to his room to know that the big boat is not agreeing with everyone. Drake is thinking of these things, and not that the things that the Director of the other place told him, as Drake knelt at his feet and sucked him off. That Drake was going to be sold to a big boat in the sea, and that he would be good there, had to be very very good because now, now they could scar him. Drake had his light scars on his chest from the accident with the fire during the scene, and they had hurt. Other scars, he knew would hurt more when they were made. His skin would change from smooth and clean to broken with lines and marks of red that would stay and make him ugly for the masters. No. Drake wasn't thinking of that, as he opened the door to his new room, just in time to see the boy curse and a foreign word spoken. "Oh, you're sick!" Drake said, coming over to help, even if he didn't exactly know how he was going to help.
Alek heard someone speak through the dizzy haze of nausea, though it takes him a moment to translate to himself what had been said. He understands more English than he speaks, but he still thinks in Russian. Opening his eyes, he gazes at the small dark haired boy who enters the tiny cabin. Alek makes a groaning/grunting sound of recognition then closes his eyes again. It's a common greeting in Russian custom but in his sorry state it doesn't sound anything like a greeting.
Drake frowns and moves around the small room to kneel near the boy's head. "I'm sorry." He said softly, honestly sorry this boy he just met is sick. Cautiously, he reaches up and brushes some of the boy's hair back off his sweaty forehead, frowning in sympathy. He doesn't know what to do, doesn't know if touching will hurt or help, only that he wants to help, needs to help, really. It's ingrained in him, and he hates to watch others suffer.
Alek's eyebrows knit into a frown for a moment. He's learned to distrust those who offer kindness for no reason. It's a survival mechanism that has served him well since he was tricked into prostitution. He sees the collar on the other boy as it put slightly at ease. "Sorry for what?" he finally says in a heavy Russian accent.
Drake is a little slow, when it comes to understanding the boy under the accent. "You're sick. It's not nice to be sick. I was sick real bad once and I couldn't breathe at all and I thought I was gonna die but the doctor gave me stuff and I got better!" That had been a terrifying time, the one time Drake actually feared for his life, and it was because of pneumonia, not a master.
"болтунья," (chatterbox) Alek mumbles under his breath. He rolls onto his side, facing away from the boy. "I be okay," he says, hoping the other slave will leave him be sick in peace.
Drake sighs, fully understanding what a turned back means, even if he didn't understand the first thing the guy said to him. The boy doesn't want to talk to him, and Drake doesn't really blame him. But some part of it still hurts. Maybe drake is just sensitive that way. He pushed himself to his feet, and looked down at the miserable boy. "Okay....You tell me if you need anything. Okay? I'll get it for you. I don't mind!" With that, Drake climbs up onto his own bunk. The top bunk. Oh. It's kinda high and he's not sure he likes that. Drake presses his back against the wall, and that's a bit better.
As the other boy climbs into his bunk, it makes rattles the bunks a bit. Even this small movement turns Alek's stomach. He groans loudly and hugs his knees to his chest. If only that damned nurse had given him something when he first complained of the seasickness. But oh no, no such luxury for a mere slave. "No move so much, stupid!" he grumbles, taking out his frustration on the innocent slave.
At the anger in the other's voice, Drake stops moving all together. If he didn't need to breathe, he would stop that too! Anything to keep the boy from being mad at him -- the other slaves could be cruel when they were mad at you. Take your things or hurt you when the guards weren't looking, which was often. He didn't get a good look at the other boy, didn't see if he was much bigger, like the big scary ones that used to make Drake give them blow jobs. Drake doesn't mind giving blow jobs, but it's only nice for a slave to ask! The silence stretches on, and then Drake says: "My name is Drake." Because that is the nice thing to do, even if the other boy was stupid and mean.
Alek feels another wave of nausea creeping up on him. He turns again and grabs the bucket. He heaves hard for several seconds, but nothing comes out. He's totally emptied out. The effort brings tears to his eyes. In anger, he pushes the bucket away. Unfortunately, it tips over, spilling its revolting contents. "Aw, damn it," Alek mumbles.
Drake flinches when the bucket is kicked. He looks over the side of his bed and sighs. That was kinda stupid. "I'll clean it up." He offers, climbing down, carefully, off the bed. He shouldn't offer this to this boy who's mean and has called him names, but it is no fun being sick.
Alek watches at the boy cleans up the mess; the mess he made. He presses his lips together, chagrined by the other slave's kindness. He takes a deep breath and slowly sits up, swing his long legs over the edge of the bunk. "You no need do that," he says in a much softer tone.
Drake shakes his head, stepping down onto the floor. "It's okay. You're sick. Lay down." He says, softly, like he's talking to an injured animal. They can't leave puke on the floor, and Drake doesn't want to risk calling attention to them, not when he's not sure how these guards are, if they're really mean or just sort of mean. Sacrificing a towel, especially when he was sure he could get another, if need by. He was very good at giving blow jobs, very persuasive. Drake made quick work of the mess on the floor. Bodily fluids no longer bothered him.
Alek scrunches up his nose as Drake cleans up the mess. The sight and smell do bother him. He's actually glad he won't have to clean it up. "Thank you," he says his heavily accented voice. Alek is distrusting and cautious, but he's not willfully mean. He can be gracious if need be. "You sleep here?" he asks with a small gesture of his hand at the small cabin.
Drake puts the dirty towel in the bucket, and puts them both outside the room,ready to grab them again if the other slave starts to look sick again. He comes back in the room, not at all disturbed by the vomit or the clean up. He had helped clean up worse. Some masters were strange with the things they wanted you to do in scenes. Weird kinks that Drake, who liked almost everything, could not understand. "Yup. This is my room too. I'm Drake." He says it again, since the last time he said it, the slave threw up and maybe he didn't hear it right.
"Aleksey," Alek says as he taps his chest lightly for emphasis. He had hoped to have the room to himself, but knew that was a long shot. At least it seemed to only be two slaves to a cabin. Not like the brothel. He had had to share his room with half a dozen other boys. There had been no beds; they had to sleep on dirty slim mattresses on the floor. Alek had to wonder how he managed to survive there in the first place. Sitting up is only making Alek more light head, so he lies back down again. "Never been on ship before," he says feeling he needs to explain his current sorry state.
Drake nods. Aleksey. that's a mouth full, a strange name he hasn't heard before, but nice. Pretty. He moves to sit on the floor, in a spot that Alek doesn't have to move to see him. Which isn't hard in the tiny room, he just sits with his back on the cabinets. "No, me either! I was in the other building. Sometimes I went outside, but I never saw the water or stuff!" There was a fuzzy memory back there, about before he was Drake the slave, but those memories hurt sometimes, so he mentally kicks it to the side. He opens his mouth to say that he was glad he wasn't sick, but realizes that's a mean thing to say -being happy he's not miserable like the other boy!- so he closes it again with a soft sigh.
Alek grumbles. He doesn't like showing weakness, never has. The fact that he's puking his guts out and the other slave - the obviously weak, small boy - isn't affected by the ship's movements grates against his pride. He taps it down though. He sees no sense in making an enemy out of his new roommate. He rakes his bangs out of his eyes and turns his head to look at Drake. "Other building?" he asks actually wondering where Drake came from and if there might be any other Russians on board.
Drake nods again, smile still on his face, if only because he's trying so hard to be nice. He wants friends. He likes having friends and he's trying not to think about all the ones he left just now. "Yeah. In LA. That's in California..." He trails off with a shrug. He didn't see much of LA. Or any of it, really. Just the building and grounds. "Where are you from?"
"I am Russian," Alek says with sadness in his eyes, "from Yadrin. Is small town." Alek had not thought much of his hometown or family since he was sent to Prague. It hurt too much to think of his old life. How normal every had been then. How completely ordinary. How he had hated it then. Now, he'd give anything to go back.
Drake nods, even though he has no clue where Russia is. His education was spotty at best. He was lucky he could read and write some other life time slaves couldn't even do that, when they started as young as he did, but Drake was a quick learner and picked it up. "I'm sorry it makes you sad." He says after a moment, not sure what has upset the boy, but seeing in his eyes that something has.
Alek narrows his eyes. He hates it when he doesn't understand something. "What means... sad?" he asks with obvious impatience.
Drake frowns. "You look unhappy. Do you miss home?" He doesn't mean anything by the question. Drake just doesn't miss his own home, he refuses to let himself think of it, but he knows that other slaves do, sometimes, and he feels bad when he hears that.
Alek understand what the other boy means now, but doesn't like that any better than not understanding. "No," he answers flatly. He looks straight up at the bottom of Drake's bunk. His face is set hard and he doesn't realize he's gripping the sheet under him in tight fists.
People think he's stupid because he doesn't know a lot of things, but he does understand body language very well, and Alek is saying one thing and feeling another. Which is fine. Drake also knows enough not to pry. So he says: "I don't miss home. I don't remember it!" And yes, that's saying one thing and knowing that's not really true, almost a lie, but a lie he tells himself so much it is nearly true. "I don't think they miss me anymore either." Family. He had one once, and he does truly believe that. People come and go it's a fact of life and he's sure his family has realized this by now.
Alek has to close his eyes to keep tears from springing free. He does remember his home, his family. While at the brothel he had held on to the slim hope that he might one day see them again. Now that he was sold to Babylon and brought to this ship, he knew he would never be free. He would never see his family again. That cold fact had sat on his chest for days, and now he felt the full weight of it. "Is good," he replied in a shaky voice. It's all he could think of to say to Drake.
Drake sees it, before Alek closes his eyes. That glassy-eyed look people get before tears come. he's been around enough crying boys and girls to know what that means. Without thinking about it or consequences, he got up on his knees and shuffled closer, before pulling the other boy into a gentle hug. He says nothing, because there is nothing to say. Acceptance of slavery is hard. Drake knows that, even if he's long since made his peace with his situation. Other people aren't as young, not as adaptable as he was.
Alek feels arms go about his shoulders and a head press on his chest before he opens his eyes. He stiffens immediately; he just isn't used to contact with another man that doesn't end in pain and blood. At least not recently. "Oтпустите!" (Let me go!) he says, but it's a feeble command. The horror of reality is setting in too fast. He brings his hands up to push Drake off him, but it's too late. Tears are already flowing out of his eyes and his shoulders shake with sobs.
The word is a command, Drake knows that, but not what Alek says. And then the other slave is crying so he doesn't pull away, even though he thinks that is what Alek wants. He just wants to help. And right now, holding him seems to be a help. He hopes.
Aleksey had not cried when he was tricked and kidnapped. He had not cried when he was raped the first time or the second time or any other time. He had not cried when he was beaten for fighting back. He had not cried when he was moved to the ship and told he'd spend the rest of his life here. But this little, scrawny kid had made him cry by giving him a hug. A hug! If he was not so upset, he would laugh at the irony.
Alek cries for several minutes. He mumbles nonsensically in Russian, not really knowing what he's saying himself. He's been so lonely and scared for so long, and it's not going to get any better. But for the moment, he holds on to Drake like he's the only real thing in the universe.
Drake just lets the other boy hold onto him and cry. He doesn't try to move away, not even when the uncomfortable position starts to hurt his back -- he may have a young body, but it is also an over used, abused body. His own discomfort doesn't matter though, not when his new roommate is breaking in front of him. He mumbles soft things back to the other slave, never 'It'll be okay' because Drake doesn't know that. Instead he says things like 'you are not alone' and 'I'm sorry.' The tears make his own flow, not for himself or their shared pain but for Alek's pain.
A few minutes later, Alek manages to get his tears under control. He lets go of Drake and wipes his face with his forearm. His face is red as he looks at Drake incredulously. He's confused, but at least he's not so nauseous now. "Umm..." he mumbles, "strange..."
Drake offers him a small, sad smile and wipes at his own eyes. Tears don't shame him, not when it's like this, but he knows other people are embarrassed sometimes. "When I was little and I came to the other building, I remember I cried lots." He says, thinking the other boy feels strange for crying in front of him.
Alek sighs gruffly. "I a man... and Russian... I don't cry," he states with as much conviction as he can muster. The expression on Drake's face at the obvious contradiction of his statement and actions bring a small grin to Alek's lips, though. "Okay, okay, maybe I cry a little."
Drake nods, though his confusion has more to do with why a Russian man doesn't need to cry ever than the contradiction. Instead, he says: "I'm sorry. I cry sometimes. And sometimes I cry a lot." Drake doesn't always know why he cries, but at times in his room at LA, the tears would just start. Other times he wakes up crying, sad, pained moans leaving his throat. Not the good sex moans. That gives him ideas, the thoughts of moans. "Do you want me to suck you? Would that make you feel better?" Drake may look young and innocent, but to him, a blow job on the same intimacy level as a hug. And he does want to make Alek better and happy.
Alek's eyes narrow in confusion again. He shakes his head slightly. It frustrates him to no end to not understand what people mean. It's dangerous too. He had the same trouble in Prague. And just when he was starting to get a working understanding of the language, he gets moved elsewhere. At least he had some English at school. "What you mean?" he asks.
"Give you a blow job." Drake says, picking up on the fact, finally, that maybe his roommate isn't so good with English. He was so distracted by the accent and the emotion and vomit to notice that maybe Alek wasn't really understanding everything Drake was saying. "You know, give you head...." He made a circle with his right hand and bobbed his head down, mouth open and eyes half closed, simulating a blow job. "Put your cock in my mouth!" Make you happy so you don't cry anymore -- he doesn't say that last part.
Alek is visibly stunned by the offer and Drake's demonstration. In the brothel no one ever gave anything away for free. Truth is that most of the boys that worked there were actually straight and loathed having to service other men. Alek did not exactly loathe it, but it was just something he had to do to survive. He blinks with confusion at Drake a couple of times. He honestly doesn't know how to respond to that, or maybe he's still shocked by the demo. His first instinct is to be cautious, of course. "Why?," he finally asks. "Why you want do that?"
Drake sees the shock and frowns at himself. It was too much, too soon, he realizes a bit too late. He blushes, ashamed with himself for offering something he should know by now most people were not comfortable with when they were new slaves. Frustrated tears sting his eyes. He hates hates hates trying to figure out how to behave with people that weren't sex slaves for as long as they can remember like him. In a small voice, he answers truthfully. "Because I like to do it -it makes me feel good. And I thought it might make you happy."
Well, this turn of events is even worse. Now Drake's eyes are filling with tears and Alek feels like a right jackass. Perfect. "Okay, okay. Stop," Alek says with a careless wave of his hand. "Do it, okay." He thinks for a moment, then turns his eyes back to Drake. He taps his upper teeth with with his finger. "Использование Вы зубы," (use your teeth) he says a bit shyly. He taps his teeth again and adds, "Use, okay?"
Drake is not sure if the other slave wants one or not, but well, he's fairly confident that he can make him enjoy it even if the boy is on the fence about the blow job. He smiles, nodding at the request. It's a little odd, but not too odd. There was a master that wanted him to bite him there and Drake would, even though he hated that, hated causing pain even if it was what gave the master pleasure. He hated it, but he did it then and he'd bite now, if that was what Alek wanted! Truthfully, he had grown up with a mouth that was much too small for a lot of the things that were put in it, and he had it ingrained in him not to bite, not ever, that was a sure fire way to make a master hitting angry real quick, so it was against his self preservation. Either way, he started to work, carefully taking down the boy's pants and freeing his cock. It was not easy, to fit on the bed, in the tiny space. Thankfully Drake wasn't very tall, so he managed to kneel between Alek's legs, his own feet sticking off the end of the bed, feet as far out as they could get, pressed against the wall. It was not comfortable, but Drake didn't care about that. He lavished the slave's cock with kisses and licks, using all the tricks he knew, before going to what everyone liked best. He braced his hands on either side of Alek's hips and moved his mouth down until it was all in his mouth. Drake didn't have much of a gag reflex anymore. He sucked gently for a few moments, and then, did as he thought Alek wanted - he bit down. Not hard, but not gently either.
Alek fidgets around a bit as Drake positions himself. The space between the bunks is tight and does leave a lot of room for movement. He's slightly nervous as this stranger pulls down his pants and starts going to work on his cock. The unease doesn't last long, though. Drake's mouth proves to be superbly talented. Pretty soon he's got Alek moaning softly. He relaxes under the soothing tongue and lips. The seasickness is a distant memory as Alek melts into the ministrations.
His organ hardens and throbs in the boy's hot throat. Then, a stabbing pain surrounds the base of his cock. Alek screams and sits up, hitting his head on the top bunk. "Ow!" He holds his forehead in one hand, while the other frantically pushes Drake away.
Drake pulled back quickly, smacking his head too on the top bunk, as the other slave pushes at his shoulders. "What? I'm sorry! You said bite! I'm sorry!" His voice rises with panic, worried that Alek will hate him now, will hurt him and never trust him again.
Alek backs up as far as he can, which isn't much at all. In the swirl of pain and fear, he rears his fist back, ready to nail Drake right on the nose. He doesn't follow through, though. The other boy looks like he's ready to piss his pants. He sighs exasperated and lowers his fist. "Rлупо дерьмо!" (Stupid shit!) he shouts, "не прикус, зубы!" (Not bite, teeth!)
Masters could be cruel, they could be something to fear, they could hurt and make you scream and cry in pain and confusion, but Drake's real problems always came from other slaves. They were often very cruel, picking on him because he was smaller than most. Because he was happy and they weren't, he just couldn't understand why they preferred misery to acceptance and pleasure in serving. And because he was a good boy, and many of them resented that, hated him because he got gifts for being good, that the masters didn't hurt him as bad as they hurt them. And he was sure there were other reasons. Right now, Drake was terrified that this man would hurt him, that he would hate him and ruin Drake's few possessions (among them a stuffed platypus named Percy), and make him miserable. He was so terrified in fact, that he didn't see the first pulling back, because his eyes were on the bed and he knew it was coming so what was the point of looking. And then he was kneeling on the narrow space between the bed and the cabinets, entire body trembling with fear -- Drake isn't sure when he moved from the bed to the floor, but there he was, kneeling, head bent submissively, all out of it out of habit. "I'm sorry I'm sorry..." He keeps repeating the phrase softly, guiltily.
Alek holds his aching cock in his hand. He has to wonder what could have possessed him to allow this strange kid to suck him off. He must losing his mind, surely. Drake obviously had not meant to hurt him. The meaning was just lost in translation. That's little consolation, though. The room is too small suddenly. Alek wants to get up, but Drake is kneeling on the floor before his bunk. He swings his legs over the side of the bunk and nudges Drake out of the way with his feet. "Move, move!" He finally gets up and pulls up his pants. Facing the wall of cabinets, Alek pushes it a couple of times. The hits aren't hard enough to break his knuckles, but he desperately needed to hit something. He curses in Russian, then just turns around and leans against the cabinets.
Drake pushes himself to the side, trying to get out of the away of the angry man, but he feels slow and stupid. He gets to his feet when he hears the hitting, but Alek has stopped before Drake thinks maybe he should stop him from hurting himself. He wipes his eyes. He opens his mouth, to offer to make it better. But that won't work. There is nothing that Drake can give Alek. Not now that he fucked up and ruined the one thing Drake always had to give. He thinks about offering to let Alek hit him, but his luck, a guard would see it and be mad at Alek or punish him. So instead of saying anything, Drake pulls himself up into his bunk, curling up around Percy, back to Alek, hiding the small stuffed animal from the other slave's view. He'll have to be careful now, and hide his stuffed friend, or he'll be sucking off a guard to get his beak sewn on again, like the last time he made another slave mad at him and the mean boy ripped poor Percy's beak off. The thought has him clutching the platypus tighter in his hands, his stomach rolling like Alek's must have been before.
Thumbs in his pockets, Alek drops his head as Drake seeks refuge up in his own bunk. This little and painful incident has made him realize he has got to make a better effort at communicating. Of course, communication in Prague had also been a nightmare; mainly, because his captors chose fists and whips to get their point across when Alek did not understand. But the situation on this ship is different than the brothel, a lot more rules for one thing. Judging from Drake's earlier babbling, what Alek understood of it, the other boy knew the rules of places like this. He knew how to survive here. He knew what Alek needs to know.
Taking a baited breath, Alek lets his anger go. He takes a step forward and rests his arms up on Drake's bunk. "Hey Drake," he says softly, "it okay. Umm... my fault, okay? Don't be sad." He uses the new word he's learned, hoping it fits. Alek is a fast learner.
Drake flinches as he feels Alek's weight on the bed. He sighs softly, then rolls over after stuffing Percy under the cover on the bed, so Alek can't see it. He hates himself for flinching - Alek could have hurt him already. "I'm sorry I'm stupid. I don't understand lots of things." Drake believes it, that he is stupid, that there is so much he doesn't understand. "It wasn't your fault I didn't understand!"
Alek waves his hand dismissively. "My English, not very good," he responds. He thinks there may be truth in both their statements, though, but he doesn't say that to Drake. He thinks a moment then decides to try something. "How you say?" he asks, then taps his teeth again.
"Teeth?" He asks, not sure if that is what Alek was asking at all now. Maybe Alek is asking how to say mouth? Drake just doesn't know, and it is a little frustrating. He thinks it's his fault that they're having so much trouble communicating. But he'll keep trying.
Alek smiles, oblivious to Drake's confused apprehension. "Teeth, okay." He remembers that from school now. He thinks back, trying to remember if he knows the next word he wants to say. Running his nails over his forearm, he asks, "scratch?" He makes the same gesture again. "Right? Scratch?"
"OH!" Drake says, louder than he meant to, but he gets it now. To demonstrate, he puts his pointer finger in his mouth and scrapes his teeth along it as he pulls it out of his mouth. He blushes - he should have known this. "Oh." He says again, softer. "I just...there was a master at the other place that liked that. For me to chew on it!"
Aleksey smiles at Drake, hazel eyes lighting up. Finally, they're making progress. His face softens as he smiles, revealing just how young and pretty he is. Traits that have brought him nothing but misery for the past year. "Right. Like that," he says, "No bite. Scratch. Umm... soft like with..." He taps his fingernails to complete his statement.
Drake nods again, smile mirroring Aleksey's. "That makes more sense. A master bit me there and it hurt a lot!" He laughs a little, at his own stupidity. He looks at Alek, head tilted slightly. "Would you let me try again?" He asks, a little shyly this time.
Alek chuckles softly and shakes his head. He's had enough for today and wouldn't risk another misunderstanding with Drake. "It okay. No need to. Maybe later?" Alek gets back in his own bunk, sitting with his back against the wall. He looks around the tiny cabin and grimaces. He really ought to check out the rest of the slave quarters, but doesn't really see any sense in it. It doesn't take long for boredom to set in now that the seasickness isn't distracting him. Alek whistles softly and taps his foot on the floor. "Drake?" he finally says, "Still want to?"
Drake's face falls when Alek says he doesn't want him to. He can't help it. He only has one thing to offer friends, and he wants Alek to be his friend. But he just nods, accepting that Alek won't ever trust him again. He doesn't deserve trust, he was so stupid. But then Alek does say he wants him to, and maybe it's not so hopeless as he thought. "Okay!" He says, hopping down off the bunk. That wasn't so high and kinda fun to jump down. "Can you stand up?" He asks, because the other way was uncomfortable, and Alek doesn't look green anymore.
The small boy is before Alek in a flash, which makes the Russian chuckle again. He stands to his full six feet and leans his back against the lockers. He gazes at Drake, considering him for a long moment. The boy looks very young and Alek has to wonder just how young he really is. After all the things he's seen, he wouldn't put it past these bastards to have a few under-aged kids locked up down here too. "You... umm... age enough?" he asks because he just can't leave well enough alone.
Drake happily drops down to his knees. He carefully undoes Alek's pants and takes out the poor abused cock. He strokes it, as he tilts his head to the side, trying to understand Alek's question. "I'm old enough to suck cock!" He says after a moment, thinking that was what Alek was asking. "I dunno how old I am though. But the old director said I'm a man now!" He's proud of that, his chest puffs up a little, as he leans into tease Alek's cock. He'd be extra nice now, to make up for his misunderstanding.
Drake's answer is little consolation, but it'll have to do. It's not Alek's fault Drake is here. Hell, it's not even Alek's own fault he's here. All he wanted was a modeling job and possibly an acting career to follow. Oh well. His gloomy thoughts are dispelled once Drake's mouth is on him again. At first, Drake is understandably tense, but soon that fades.
Drake rests his hands on Alek's thighs, moaning happily as he swirled his tongue around the tip of Alek's cock. Looking up at Alek -- he was way up there, with Drake on his knees in front of him, and Drake always loved that dizzying effect-- he bared his teeth and slowly slid his mouth down, teeth gently scraping along the sensitive flesh. He watched his new roommate carefully to make sure he was doing it right this time.
A long moan leaves Alek as Drake's hot mouth works over his cock. He's fully hard again; the pain of the earlier misunderstanding a distant memory. His hands search for something to hold on to and finally settle on the locker latches. At the touch of Drake's teeth on his over-sensitized flesh, Alek actually cries out a little. But before he can give Drake the wrong impression he gives him a thumbs up and small grin.
Drake hears the cry and is ready to pull back, but saw Alek's grin and thumbs up. He smiled happily around him, trusting that Alek would say something if he did something dumb again. He worked his mouth for a few moments, careful to use his teeth lightly. Eyes up on Alek again, he started to play with Alek's balls, rolling them gently in his hand, as he hummed low in his throat.
Drake had talent, no doubt about it. He soon has the tall Russian gasping and moaning loudly. His whole body is tense again, but this time it is from anticipation. One of his hands finds its way to the top of Drake's head. He caresses it, a little roughly. Just as Alek's knees start to weaken, he feels his balls tighten, then climaxes with a strangled cry.
Drake has no clue what Alek is saying, but knows the jist of it from the tone of his voice, understands it in the way Alek's body trembles right before he comes. He moans happily at the hand on his hair, and then he's swallowing back Alek's orgasm. He smiles as he licks Alek clean, not sparing a drop. Of course, all this has made Drake rock hard in his pajama pants, very hard and very obviously hard. But he has no intentions of asking for release from his new roommate (and hopefully his new friend). He pulls himself to his feet instead, wincing, almost absently, as one of his knees pop. An eighteen year old shouldn't have achy knees, but most eighteen year-olds haven't spent the kind of time on them that Drake has. He smiles up at Alek. "See! I didn't bite this time!" He says, obviously pleased with himself. Yes, it was a vanity of sorts, to take such pleasure in knowing you've done a good job, but Drake can't help it. He likes sucking cock. Loves it, even.
Alek is left trembling after this orgasm. He leans his whole body back against the lockers, just so he won't fall over. That was a good blow job, quite possibly the best he's ever had. The men that had paid for him in Prague were mostly interested in getting their cocks sucked. Those who did it to him, usually were clumsy or cruel or both. As his senses return, he looks down at Drake and smiles gratefully. "Yes, good," he murmurs. He slaps his hand on Drake's shoulder and gives it a friendly squeeze. Though Alek is grateful, it doesn't occur to him that perhaps he ought to reciprocate in kind. "Thank you."
Drake smiles up at Alek. He has no intentions of asking the man to suck him off. While he does like to get off, he's also used to not getting off. The grateful, trembling look Alek gives him is more than enough of a thank you. There is something that warms him up, centers him, seeing that he made another man feel that good. Drake is smiling like he was the one to get the blow job. "You're welcome! Most times, if you want one I don't mind doing that!" He was telling the honest truth. Only if he was sick or hurt. And sometimes it made his hurt go away. So mostly it was really just when he had a stomach ache.
"Drake good boy," Alek says and means it. He, of course, is not a good boy. He only obeys under threat or after violence. But at least, he doesn't have to worry about sharing a room with an ornery punk like himself. He smiles at Drake, then lies down on his bunk again. He is sleepy after coming. Now that he isn't seasick, perhaps he could actually nap.
Drake beams at Alek. He likes to be called a good boy. For the most part, he is, though he has his fears that sometimes get the best of him. A nap looked like a good idea to him. He smiles at his roommate one more time, before climbing up on the bunk, trying not to move the frame so much. He settles in and takes Percy back out, cuddling the stuffed animal (and what a strange little animal!) to his chest. He likes Alek, and he thinks Alek won't be mean to him, but it'll be a little while before Drake can trust him enough to see Drake's first friend. Until then, though, he's more than happy to help Alek in anyway way, including helping him relieve tension now and again.