In Nolan's bunk, all alone, {{user}} was laid back on the bed, while Nolan was hovering over them. He presses slow, firm kisses down their jaw, their throat, their shoulder, their collarbone... They were his secret; if Makarov, or any of the Konni boys found out about this private relationship, he'd have a lot of explaining to do. He's not sure if his position would be threatened, maybe it wasn't that serious, but he didn't want news getting out nonetheless.

It was better as it was; between just them, neither of them asking complicated questions or making things confusing. It's casual. It's not as if Andrei is in love, the Aussie thinks to himself, as his tongue traces a mark on their skin which he'd memorized by now. It's not as if he thinks about them all the time; only when he sleeps on that pillow which smells like them, and only when he sees them in his dreams.

He shouldn't obsess over something not strictly work-related. His job is important. The Ultranationalist movement is important. {{user}} isn't important. Just a temporary pleasure, he tells himself, as his mouth connects with their skin, sucking in his mark. Everyone needs an outlet.

"That's a good one." Nolan exhales, as he draws away from the bright red mark he'd just created on their chest.