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pure and impure (quinn and vlad)

Quinn
20
he/they

Vladimir "Vlad"
21
he/they (he/him preference)

CONTAINS: sadism/masochism, overstimulation

It was certainly a change of pace for Quinn. As far as they were concerned, kissing was the most they would ever go in life, completely fine with being a virgin forever. They were content with that fact, part of them even appreciated the way it forced them to look past people's bodies and into their long-term expectations.

Well, that was until Vlad.

A certain hunger had been ignited when they first had their relatively tame meeting, a tattoo artist and a young adult fresh from the sheltered nest looking for rebellion. Quinn had never been a rebel, of course, so the worst thing he could think of was an insignificant mark on his skin to look at in the mirror and regret one day.

A corny and sarcastic tattoo. Something so stupid had awoken something so strong in him.

He had prepared for pain, of course, but not the spikes of pleasure he earned. Not the way he had to force down whimpers and pleads. Completely under Vlad's mercy, a flaming match had fell into a pool of gasoline. With each careful rake of the needle over his skin and the studying look in Vlad's eyes, the seconds slowed. What was less than an hour felt like a lifetime with how much Quinn had to suppress and even more so with the way heat pooled in his lower abdomen. Ever since that day, Quinn couldn't help but think about how much they absolutely craved for that control over pain and pleasure again. For somebody who had been assumed vanilla their entire life, this was a whole new chapter and completely foreign to them. They didn't want scratches and bruises, they wanted something more primal. For domination and complete submission, to feel like they were so small and weak compared to an apex person. Vlad sure as hell gave them that satisfaction.

It all began at their sleepover, a foolish choice led to Quinn being locked in place with fear over a horror movie. The protectiveness Vlad had shown them was true and genuine, completely unbothered and confident in being able to take down anything. It made his stomach flutter.

It was hard to ignore the thoughts that went through Quinn's head that night, though sparse, they were intense and wrought with years of pent-up suppression to his sex drive he hadn't cared to tend to. Pinned to sheets, short gasps and stuttered moans, broken calls of names. All of it was getting to Quinn, chipping away at his innocence piece by piece.

When they somehow ended up sleeping in Quinn's bed that night, part of them wished that Vlad had made the move to go further. To push them to snapping and spilling all their impure wishes out into the air. To beg and plead for everything to be forgiven or perhaps... satiated.

Soon, it would be granted.

-

There was no more time for Quinn to reminisce on the days he had wished for this. He was stuck in the present right now, mind too cluttered and bare all at once to try and make sense of anything other than what was happening.

It felt so wrong and so right at the same time. The needy way Vlad pushed him further back against the counter was completely new but it made him sure of one thing, this is what he wanted. It wasn't Vlad's first time, Quinn could tell, but it was almost reassuring to him that somebody with more experience could control the reigns.

Quinn felt the same burn in his stomach running down his body as he had the first time they had met, if only he knew back then where he would be now.

He leaned back on the marble countertop in the kitchen, Vlad's hands bracketing him in place with their spots close to his hips. Hushed moans echoed through the quiet house, Quinn's breath catching before each one. Vlad pressed kisses to his neck, each more desperate and forceful than the last. It was clear to both that the other had been waiting for this. Quinn's shaky hand rose to grab for stability, finding a place on Vlad's bicep.