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shyravenns · 22 days ago

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Price discovers an old box of photos and realises he has never seen Nik in uniform. Nik satiates his curiosity. (Collaboration with @nekrosmos.) (cw: uniform kink, boot worship, tit fucking, anal sex.)

Day Seven - Retirement/Uniform, #NikPrice Week 2025

There was a peacefulness to midsummer rain that Price couldn't quite define. It fell in a grey curtain of fat droplets, the world of vibrant green and colour, the noise of summer, momentarily muffled as the soil soaked up its much-needed drink. Puddles formed in the grooves of the patio’s dark sandstone, drowning the weeds struggling through the grout. Price stood in the bedroom, hands on hips, window thrown open wide so that he could survey his little kingdom.

Even the itchy energy beneath his skin seemed to have calmed, the scent of petrichor filling his senses and softening the thoughts behind his eyes. A prickle of simple pleasure ran across his shoulders and he shivered in the cooler breeze, the hairs on his arms standing on end. He leaned forward and propped his elbows on the windowsill and turned his wedding ring around his finger, breathing deeply through his nose.

Since retiring from the service, Price had found it difficult to settle. He was happy here, with his newly minted husband curled around him every night, no life or death decisions to be made beyond what to have for dinner or which book to withdraw from the local library. But his mind was like an engine forced down a gear, still trying to run at a hundred miles per hour rather than the sedentary thirty of his new, calmer lifestyle. The rain had driven him inside from his gardening projects, which meant one of his usual outlets was off limits until the storm had passed.

Price took one final breath before he turned away from the window. His eyes wandered the room, his mind in search of something to occupy it, and it settled on the stack of boxes he could see in the bottom of their wardrobe. Nik had left the door ajar after hanging up some shirts, and Price wandered over to peer inside. Nik had moved in with everything he owned, which hadn't been a lot to Price's surprise, but had included the last talismans from his old life. Before Price. While Price had toiled in the garden, Nik had clearly been tidying up a bit in the house.

The boxes were old. Tattered at the edges with paper peeling off. There was faded Cryllic on the top: “семья”. Price ran his finger around each letter to spell it out phonetically, lips forming each syllable. He was better at spoken Russian, linking the sounds to the meaning. Family. Price swallowed. Hard. Not yet. He placed it gently down on the bed and picked up the second box. This one was a little less battered, perhaps newer, but only just. It had “ВВС” on the top. Nik was no fan of the British Broadcasting Company, which meant more Cryllic. “Vuh, Vuh, Suh…” Price murmured to himself. Voyenno-Vozdushnye Sily Rossii.

Price opened the top reverently. This one felt less… private. It was part of their story that they shared, for the most part. Price found Nik's tags first, wrapping the chain around his fingers, he lifted the cool metal to his lips and kissed Nik's given name. He smiled at his own sentimentality - old fool - and thanked whatever existed above his head that he'd never been handed those tags with a pitying glance. He placed them aside on the mattress and picked up his service record next.

It was falling to pieces. The old boy had enlisted before they had digitised everything, which meant his little book was handwritten with a mugshot of a young, austere-looking Russian in the bottom corner. Price traced the faded insignia and ink, and then touched the deep frown on the handsome face of a Nikolai he had never met. The man he had found in that bar, and then convinced as they strolled around St James Park, had been broken and jaded; he had all but given up hope, his clash of morals and loyalty tearing his heart and soul to pieces. This one had no such conflict. His gaze was steady, his expression stern, close-cropped hair neat, jaw clean.

Price leafed through the delicate pages. He found notes on Nik's training - no surprises there, he knew Nik had trained initially with jets before transferring his specialism - and some medical notes. A broken arm during training, if Price wasn't mistaken. In the middle were a set of blue rank slides. There were two light blue stripes running parallel down the middle, and three stars in a triangle. “Well, bloody hell…”

“Is everything okay?”

Price startled, almost dropping the damn box on the floor, and slapped a hand to his chest. Nik stood in the bedroom door, a big looming shadow in the darkness of the summer storm. “Christ, Nik. You tryin’ t’ finish me off?”

Nik smiled apologetically and held out Price’s walking stick as a peace offering. “You left your stick in the garden…”

There were still some rainy streaks on the brass handle where Nik had used some kitchen towel to dry it off. Price smiled crookedly and patted the mattress next to him. “Cheers, luv. C’mere, you’ve caught me snoopin’, might as well translate some of this fer me.”

Nik placed the walking stick down by one of the tall chest of drawers by the door and settled down at Price’s side. He placed a hand on the mattress at Price’s back and leaned in close to inspect the contents. “Ah, my time in the military…” His gaze drifted briefly to the other box, and Price saw a slight tightness around his eyes.

“I ain’t looked, Nik. I… if you want t’ show me, then…”

“I have no secrets from you. What’s mine is yours, including the… ugly parts.”

“Ugly? You gotta be takin’ the piss, look at this Russian stallion right here,” Price said, grinning as he flicked back to Nik's mug shot. “Stick so far up his arse ‘m surprised yer such a wuss about receivin’.”

“John…” Nik said, somewhat bashful.

“And this? Rank says, uh… pol… kovnik, polkovnik. That's a colonel. So I shoulda been salutin’ you fer the last twenty-five years.”

Nik grinned. “I prefer your other methods of deference.”

Price elbowed Nik gently and closed his service record. He slotted it back into the box and pulled out a small envelope. It was frail, wrapping the photographs rather than holding them, and Price peeled them out carefully. They were just as Price expected; group photos of Nik's squadrons, and smaller tactical flights. There was Nik next to a Sukhoi, with a cluster of engineers, and another in combat fatigues in a jungle; a desert exercise, some aerial photographs, Nik by a helo, Nik in the cockpit of something big. Endless bread crumbs of Nik's life before Price met him.

The young man in the photographs was a shadow of the one sitting next to him; he was handsome, strong, but there was something missing. A spark that made Nik… well, Nik . The last photograph in the box was an officer in uniform. “Fuck me…” Price breathed, tracing his thumb down the image’s brocaded chest. “If I'd seen ya in that, woulda shagged ya there and then.”

“You never saw me in uniform? When you were… planning your approach?”

“Naw, only in your jacket and jeans when you were outside the embassy. Didn't want to get too close when yer position was vulnerable.”

Those few days of reconnaissance had been intense. Price couldn't remember his exact movements, but he remembered how he had felt vividly. It had been his first big solo mission and it wasn't even on enemy soil. They had trusted him to secure an asset, alive, where no one else had succeeded. Turned out it would be the man that teased him gently out of the closet and put a bloody ring on his finger. Back then, Nik had been a formidable adversary; clever, dangerous, volatile. Now, he was both Price's bulwark, and the warmest, gentlest, most loving softie Price had ever known. The old adage was true; the prickliest shells had the softest centres.

Nik took the photograph, tapping his forefinger against the corner, and then glanced at the wardrobe. “I wonder if it still fits…”

Price's eyes widened and he followed Nik's eye line. “Bloody ‘ell, you still got it?”

Nik nodded and rolled to his feet with a soft groan. The first few steps were a little stiff as he rolled his shoulders, but he was soon pushing the hangers aside with the squeak of metal on metal. He pulled out a hefty suit bag and threw it onto the bed with a clatter of hangers. As the zip hissed down, Price drank in the sight of navy blue wool and golden brocade. “Mm, fuck, bet ya’d look stunnin’, luv.”

Nik considered Price with a curious expression, his lower lip rolled between his teeth. “I would be willing to try it on if you would wear yours.”

Price's eyebrow leapt up. “You saw me in it plenty.”

“Da. But I never got to, what to say, enjoy it properly.”

“Oh-ho, ya kinky bastard, I see…”

“You suggested it first.” Nik flicked his chin towards the photograph peeking outside the box where he'd left it. “I may not be as handsome anymore, but…”

Price stood, a little awkward due to the stiffness in his leg, and took Nik's chin. “Naw, ‘m not havin’ that. Yer bloody gorgeous, Nikolai. Put the fuckin’ uniform on, I wanna see it.”

Nik leaned down the short distance to kiss Price’s lips. It was tender, lingering, one of Nik's big hands scooping into the curve of Price's back to hold him close. When Nik drew away, he brushed their noses together. “I will, but I wish to see the captain again.”

“‘Course. Gimme a bit. Reckon my beret’s buried at the back somewhere.”

Nik nodded and let Price free to rummage through the closet. After Price had half disappeared into the wardrobe, Nik left the bedroom with his uniform and disappeared into the bathroom to change. Price pulled out his dress uniform, nose wrinkling at the starchy scent of wool, and found his beret after turning over a few vacuum packed shirts. A lot of his old kit had been returned to stores when he had retired; it was still serviceable and in date. But the parts that were a little sentimental had followed him north. He ran his fingers over the buttons on his jacket and hummed quietly.

Price didn't miss it often. He was too content, too relieved to have survived it all to retire. But sometimes he missed the discipline and routine, the sense of purpose, the importance of it all. The service was so deeply wound into his being that it was no surprise that pulling on the uniform felt good. Not replacing a weight that had lifted, but returning to a place once called home; rich with memory.

The trousers were a tad snug at the waist, but fastened well enough, and his tunic sat well over the chest and shoulders still. He gathered his ribbons and his medals, fastened his lanyard and clicked his belt into place. His shoes were still buffed to a decent level from when he put them away, but he used the leg of his pajamas from beneath his pillow to brush some dust off. When he looked in the mirror, the reflection that gazed back didn't look at all shabby, well, apart from the scruff; he could do with a shave. The last accent was the beret, and he smoothed its slope down the side of his head with a flat palm before adjusting it properly. It'd do. If all went to plan, it would be on the floor in about ten minutes anyway.

There was a soft knock at the door, and Price looked up just as Nik stepped back across the threshold into their bedroom. “Jesus wept…” Price breathed.

Nik's uniform was immaculate, and he carried himself with a military bearing that Price had never quite seen in full swagger before. His heart fluttered earnestly in his chest as he paused to take it all in before stepping towards him. Nik’s double-breasted tunic, cut from deep blue wool, bore all the insignias of his squadron and rank. The fabric was of the highest quality, subtly textured, tailored to perfection, hugging his torso and emphasising his broad chest. Price smoothed his hands up it as Nik breathed out, lower lip rolling between his teeth as his fingers reached Nik’s shoulders.

His epaulettes were edged in thick silver braid, with three gold stars set against a dark blue field, marking his seniority. A silver thread ran along the edge of each shoulder strap, matching the embossed silver buttons down the very centre of his tunic. His collar bore the Air Force’s distinctive embroidered wings and sword insignia, finely stitched in metallic thread, symbols of command and flight mastery. Price ran his fingertips over it, following the intricacies of the embroidery tight at Nik’s throat. He glanced up to Nik’s eyes, seeking permission, and Nik dipped his chin in the faintest nod; Price popped his button and worked open his shirt underneath until he could lean forward to press his nose into the hollow of Nik’s throat, breathing in his natural scent and the starchy musk of the uniform.

Eyes closed, Price continued to explore Nik’s uniform with curious hands. Over the left of his chest, a tight formation of ribbons displayed years of merit: campaign decorations, service awards, flight qualifications, and honours from both Russian and allied commands. Below them, a gold pilot's badge, smooth and polished; a winged insignia crowned with a star, signifying his elite status as a senior aviator. No surprises there. Price couldn't name a single aircraft that surpassed Nik's expertise.

Price drew back to look down Nik’s body. The tunic was secured with a wide leather belt; black, high-shine, with a square silver buckle engraved with the two-headed eagle. Trousers of matching dark blue tapered neatly into tall, jet-black parade boots, polished to a mirror sheen. A ceremonial officer’s cap sat under his arm; round, with a dark crown, silver piping, and a large metal cockade bearing the Air Force emblem. The visor was lacquered black and trimmed with a double row of silver oak leaves; a distinction reserved for senior officers.

Price followed the line of Nik’s trousers to the buffed boots on his feet. Boots, not shoes. The toe was broader and the laces set differently. Price felt the warm swell of arousal build in his hips, the heat trickling down his spine to pool as a building pressure demanding release. Nik was stunning. The warm, affable gent was still in there, hidden in the depths of the earnest brown eyes that watched Price for approval, but the way he carried himself, the presence of his rank, of all that command, made Price weak at the fucking knees.

“Well?” Nik asked, shifting his cap from beneath his arm and onto his head. In another life, Nik would have been his senior. Price wouldn't have been in the rooms or the meetings at Nik's side, but receiving orders from him once they were decided. And yet, all these years, Nik had served him loyally, without hesitation.

“Ya must've been the youngest colonel they had.”

Nik nodded. “I was… gifted,” he said, smiling lopsidedly. “Or so they said.” Nik was studying Price with a lusty bloody look, dark eyes dragging over his uniform like they were trying to consume it.

“Maybe the crusty ol’ bastards jus’ wanted to see you in that more often. Fuck me, Nikolai, you… dunno we'ver to salute or what.”

Nik reached up with gloved hands to cup Price’s face, and Price kissed the thumb that stroked over his lower lip. “I would not be against a little… roleplay.”

“At your service, sir,” Price croaked. He felt hot under the wool, his skin prickling with want and heat. Nik took him by the chin and kissed him, tongue licking into his mouth as a strong arm wrapped his waist to hold him up. The other hand cupped his backside, squeezing possessively. Price’s legs wobbled, his hands lifting to press his fingers up Nik's wool tunic. His thumb caught on those silver buttons, turning them just slightly with each pass, he popped a few more to expose more of Nik’s chest, pulling it down by the lapels in a decadent display of his partner’s stunning pelt and firm build.

Nik drew away, dusting a few light kisses on Price's lips. “Then service me, captain. I want you on your knees.” Nik hesitated for a moment and Price realised quickly why.

“S’fine,” he whispered. “Not hurtin’ t’day.”

The concern melted away and Nik straightened, walking by Price to take a seat on the edge of the bed. He threw a pillow onto the rug and jutted his chin at it. “I do not issue orders more than once.”

“Sir,” Price acknowledged, back straightening as his heels met briefly. He stepped between Nik’s legs and used his thigh as support to sink down to his knees. The silver buttons of Nik's tunic hovered before his eyes and Price licked his lips, glancing up at Nik with imploring eyes.

Nik took his chin and guided his face to those buttons. Price moaned low in his throat as his face pressed to the thick wool, his lower lip dragging over the sharp edge of a badge as Nik brought him to the cusp of where his tunic split open over his chest. Price’s tongue traced the ridges and dips of the embossed coat of arms on his first silver button, each breath shivering out of his chest as his hands gripped Nik's strong thighs. A shudder of want ran down his spine, bunching in his belly, and his hips jerked forward into nothing as Nik popped each button Price kissed until he reached his belt.

The smell of the wool, of Nik's sweat beneath it, the subtlety of his authority weighing down, was making Price ache. As he sank lower down his body, Price’s mind seemed to be settling deeper into a soft haze, his thoughts fading out as he tuned in to the pulse of his body’s need. He felt Nik's boot stroke up the inside of his thigh, and gasped when it pressed to the bulge of his cock desperately pushing out against his trousers. Nik’s hand slid around the back of his neck, his forefinger stroking the line beneath his beret. “Such a good soldier, so eager to please.”

Price moaned softly as Nik's polished steel toe cap stroked back and forth over his crotch. The pressure was a perfect tease. Price buried his face against Nik’s chest, chin rested on the cool buckle of his belt. “Sir, please…”

“My boots could do with servicing,” Nik murmured, leather-clad thumb rasping over the stubble on John’s cheek to press between his lips. Price felt a dizzy haze settle over his mind as he spread his knees a little wider and slipped from Nik’s grip to run his mouth over Nik’s belt to the full dome of his crotch. Nik was hard and Price pushed his face against him with a low moan. “Ah ah, later.” Nik pushed down on Price’s beret and Price sank onto his hands, lowering his mouth to the tight laces and buffed leather of Nik’s boot.

The laces were coarse against his lips, his tongue, the taste bitter, but the arousal gripped up Price’s spine with each pass as he worked down to kiss the toe. He looked up through his lashes to see Nik gazing down at him with dark eyes, his legs spread and his erection tenting the front of his trousers. His hands set behind him, thrusting his gorgeous bloody tits out of his tunic. “Pizdat… you are so beautiful on your knees. That’s it, good boy.”

Price’s entire body throbbed under the praise and he ran his nose over the criss-cross of Nik’s laces, arching his back and spreading his knees to try and ease the tightness in his groin. His hips rocked against the air and a low whine gathered in the back of his throat, his shirt sticking to his skin underneath his tunic.

”Nik…”

”Did I give permission for you to use my first name, captain?”

”No, sir. Sorry, sir.” Price’s breath fogged the buffed leather as his eyes closed. “Please… ‘m so… I need…”

”Hmm, perhaps a little relief,” Nik murmured, lifting his hands from the mattress to reach for Price. He guided him up slowly, first by the chin, before his hand dropped to Price’s collar to draw out the length of his tie and wrap it around his fist. “Hump my boot like a good war dog.”

Price’s next breath stuck in his throat as he felt the toe of Nik’s boot return to his crotch. It pressed up gently, adding the slightest pressure to the curve of his balls and shaft, tantalising. Nik’s grip of his tie kept his back arched, and his hands scrambled for purchase on Nik’s thighs, then his hips. Tension coiled in the base of his spine, his heart hammering, each breath wrestling free of his chest as he stared up at Nik.

He felt off kilter. Like was on the brink of free falling out of a Hercules without a parachute, a yawning fall stretching out beneath him with a brutal, devastating impact the inevitable end. Tears prickled at his eyes, his pride chafing at the bit, and Nik shushed him gently. “Breathe, solnyshko. Let go. I have you.” Nik kept Price's tie as he opened the buckle of his belt, easing the last silver buttons open to reveal the plush of his belly, and cupped the back of Price's head to guide him close. Price's face pressed to warm, furred skin, and he felt the sudden panic melt away. Nik's scent, the firmness of his body, grounded him, and Price opened his mouth to suck a kiss into Nik's belly, his taste filling his mouth and cloying in his throat. His shoulders relaxed, and his hips rolled forward, rutting his cock in a smooth glide over Nik's boot. A deep throb of pleasure rolled up his body and he moaned loudly, wantonly.

It wasn't just the sensation. It was the act. Absolute, shameless submission at the literal feet of authority. Nik cradled him against his body, an anchor that let Price explore a deep, dark desire that he couldn't really define. Something kindled by the sight of Nik in uniform and coaxed forward by the low, authoritative growl of Nik's command.

Price rocked his hips again, rubbing Nik's toe over his balls and shaft, easing himself into a lazy rhythm that stoked his arousal higher; good, but never quite enough to push him over into an orgasm. He shuffled forward and mounted Nik's boot properly, nails scratching at the old laces to try and draw it closer, sitting in the curve of it as he humped the firm leather, desperately edging himself. Nik still had his tie loosely wrapped around his palm, but his fingers were buried in Price’s epaulette, nails scratching at his hairline and neck. Price arched into it, looking up with hazy eyes as his tongue lolled out against Nik's belly.

Nik was breathing heavily, the large swell of his tits heaving out of his tunic, defying the embroidered lapels, the rank and insignia that tried to contain them. Bursting out of his bloody uniform because he'd never needed it to wield command, not of soldiers, not of arms deals, and not of Price. Nik blinked down at him slowly, basking in the glow of his arousal, the delayed gratification. “What do you need, John?” Nik asked, his accent slurring on Price's name like it was treacle on his tongue.

Price pressed his hips hard against the laces of Nik's boot. “Wanna fuck yer tits, luv. Fuck… ‘m so close…”

Nik's lips twitched into a faint smile, and he leaned back, dragging Price up with a renewed grip on his tie. His cap fell off as Price staggered, legs like jelly as he was drawn onto the bed; his torso dropped to Nik's belly as he scrambled at his belt and fly to free his aching cock. It was slick against his palm as he pulled it free of his boxers, hot and wet as it pressed into the fur of Nik's belly before he could shuffle into place, his balls tight and high. “Da, John… da… ” Nik cooed, releasing John's toe to hold him behind the knees, then the ankles, and finally his hips.

Price groaned as his prick slid into the valley at the centre of Nik's chest, his foreskin rolling back over his glans, precum dribbling into the curls of dense black. It was a dominant position, but Price wasn't in control; Nik's big palms on his hip, the low growl of his voice, were Price's tethers to the world, and without them he would be adrift. Nik pressed his tits together, tensed them, and Price rutted forward, fisting the bed sheets above Nik's head, whining, growling, mumbling bloody nonsense as he thrust forward.

The medals and buttons clattered, the whisper of expensive wool, the creak of their bed springs, and Nik's low rumble - “da, John, da, da…” - egged him on even through the burning at the base of his spine, in his thighs. He looked down the slope of his uniform, a uniform he had worn to salute the fucking queen, to his ruddy cock, hard and dribbling, as it thrust through Nik's beautiful bloody tits, with those dark eyes watching him like he was god's gift. The feel of Nik's firm body between his thighs, the brush of his fur, how his dusky nipples pebbled with arousal. God, fuck, Nik was beautiful; feral, untamable, puppeting Price's pleasure even pinned beneath his body. Price's orgasm moved through him like the thunder rolling through the skies outside, building in the crescendo of his moans. His hips quaked in Nik's grip, fists shaking in the blankets, as he came hard, painting Nik's chin and collar bones in milky white.

Nik kissed the side of his face, muttering soft praise in Russian, or what Price assumed was Russian, because his mind was floating somewhere on cloud nine and all he heard was the soft purr in his ear. The world had been muffled by the rain, but now the edges had softened completely; the edges of his vision hazy, a glow pulsing at his core.

His body flopped like a rag doll when Nik moved him onto the bed, blue eyes blinking slowly at the bruised sky through the open window as Nik turned him onto his stomach, his hips lifted on a pillow. He vaguely heard the rattle of the bedside cabinet, the clatter of Nik's belt, and then moments later, he felt the slow, luxurious burn of Nik's thick cock sinking into him. He took Nik to the hilt in one slow thrust, body yielding effortlessly, so relaxed from his climax. The heavy weight of Nik's balls pressed against his as Nik growled in possessive triumph. Nik leaned over his back, buried his face against Price's brocaded collar, and fucked him slow and deep, and all Price could do was surrender to it, panting gasps breaking from his chest as each thrust sent shocks of pleasure through his oversensitive body.

Price might have come again, the pleasure mounting to a scorching peak, squeezing around Nik's cock as it throbbed inside him; the lurid, wet sound as his hole sucked at it eagerly, desperate to have Nik grinding deep, taking his ownership. When Nik's hips shuddered, Price used his last iota of sentiment to cock his hips up to take Nik's cock deep, groaning softly as the heat of Nik's cum spread through his hips. It was a heady one, Nik's powerful body shaking over Price's back as he moaned into Price's neck. When Nik pulled out and flopped down by his side, Price felt the warmth dribble down the inside of his thigh, and his toes curled in his shoes with a deep satisfaction.

“You enjoyed that,” Nik said softly. Price tried to form words, but they fluttered away like so many butterflies in their garden; he could only nod dumbly. Nik took his beret off and nuzzled a kiss into his hair. They said nothing more. Price was aware of some distant edge to the afterglow, like a threatening shard of glass in a soft rug, but it never drew near. Nik held him close and whispered soft nothings as the storm raged outside, warding off any feelings that threatened the spongy high cushioning Price's mind. Later, Price might ask Nik about the second box, but for now, they basked in their newest discovery.

#LETS GOO #nikprice #this is just what i needed during my lunch break #cod

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