hello, this is a universe in which these things exist:

pilot alfred

businessman ivan


written for a special person, you know who you are. one-shot! originally posted in LJ, with some changes on funky language.



So they said Alfred F. Jones was the best in the business. Once upon a time he used to fly supersonic planes over thousands of miles and knew the thrill of having it on supercruise, watching vast distances around him move slowly in a kind of paradox. Oh, and he was good. He even had a nickname to go with it: the Wonderboy of the Skies. It was terrible - fucking awful - but he still used it to gloat around and get around, you know? He'd flash them a movie-star smile, yeah, I'm the Jones, before he came up with another awful one: I'll take you places.

Then he turned twenty-one, and decided to drop off the grid and fly Very Important People to Very Important Places so that they could do Very Important Things. It helped him relax his nerves and even travel around; see places he only got to see during the cover of night back when he was in the Air Force. It's been a year now and he's been doing good; he guessed the only downside was flying at subsonic and people thinking he was way too young to do this kinda job, but the paycheck was pretty sweet. He was crazily efficient pre-takeoff, made sure there's no delays 'cause he knew the aircraft inside out, (mostly) didn't get bored with seeing clouds upon clouds on an endless sky (unless if it was long-haul, and if it was over the sea), and he didn't ask a lot of questions.

Damn right, he was pretty awesome.

And so was this new guy. Ivan Braginsky, that was his name. It took him a while to remember how exactly how his last name went, and even then he had to have one of his buddies correct his pronunciation no fewer than three times before he got even remotely near.

But not before he got his ear chewed out, of course.


Alfred made a thoughtful noise, putting on his short sleeved pilot's uniform. "So that's how you say it."

"No, man, you're missing the point. You're telling me you just got a job from this guy? When?"

"Uh, I don't really know. One day the Chinese guy I was working for told me I was kinda being transferred or some shit - I don't know how this whole business works, man, I just fly stuff - then suddenly I was like, at this huge hangar staring down at one of those G650s. So tell me, who is he?"

Williams rolled his eyes, grimacing.

"He's the heir to that Russian company taking over the aircraft market and blowing everyone outta the water with their tech. I'm telling you man, those engines and missile defenses they've been building? Crazy."

"Never heard about 'em."

"I've been to one of the factories in Belarus, it was pretty cool."



"The fuck were you doing in Belarus?"

He waved away the question. "So have you seen him? What's he like?"

"You know I don't ask questions."

"Oh. Yeah. You don't do it on the job, I forgot."

"Bro, I haven't even gotten a good look at the guy. All I got was a name, where I was supposed to be, when I was supposed to be there, a question if I could fly a G6 and a fat paycheck for my 'troubles'. Apparently this is something like a test-run, 'cause he's looking for a perma pilot who can be with him 'whenever he wants' it."

Williams gave him a funny look.

"... What?"

"Nothing. I guess it makes sense. Since he travels around a lot, and, uh, things."

Alfred raised an eyebrow. "You're not telling me something."

"Apparently, I've heard that Mr. Braginsky isn't very nice. I've heard the things he does and it's not all pretty. It's all business though, so don't worry about it too much - you know how cutthroat it is, and if he's cranky, it's just his work. Otherwise I've heard he takes care of his people pretty well. That's just all." Williams tied his hair back, speaking through the biscuit in his mouth and looking at Alfred from the mirror. "It's just that, well, you're blond."

The blond in question adjusted his tie and gave his best friend a funny look from behind his aviators. "The hell you mean by that? You're blond too, fuck."


"That's sure as hell something."

"I'm just sayin', man."

"What, he's got a taste for hot, young, blond pilots?" Alfred asked sarcastically, snorting - then stared as Williams shrugged casually, as if saying 'Duh'. "... You've gotta be kidding me."


Alfred's voice was full of glee. "You just effectively called me hot. I fucking knew it!"

"... You're such a loser, Jones."


Ivan sipped his vodka, letting the hum of the aircraft and the slow buzz of his drink wash through him, almost lulling him to the world of sleep. The window beside him featured endless clouds, stretching over skies the colour a mix of azure and cornflower blue. He's had a long day, so no one could blame him from closing his eyes and dozing off, yes? He lazily paged through his novel, wetting his thumb after every three pages, going through the words languidly.

Something bothered him - he hasn't seen his new pilot yet.

Much like other people, Ivan had preferences. Some people liked brunettes, or women with smouldering green eyes; some preferred taller men, or broad, or even a lithe and wiry body. As for himself, he liked blondes. It's not saying that he wouldn't enjoy a good fuck if he ended up sleeping with a red head or something, he just liked them. Young, blonde men usually took the cake.

Ivan really was looking for a new pilot ever since his old one wanted to retire. So he accepted that. It just so happened the one that his old friend recommended just happened to suit his 'preferences'.

The stewardess stood at attention when he looked at her. "Mr. Braginsky?"

"The aviator - what was his name? Jones?"

"Alfred Jones, sir," she replied dutifully, smile plastered onto her face, ever-present. He returned it.

"Call him here."

She nodded and disappeared into the cockpit.

As if on cue, the pilot poked his head out from the flight deck, grin bright and irresistible. His clothes fitted him nicely; the blond was decked out in a short sleeved pilot's uniform, black slacks, and what looked like typical leather shoes. He looked like any other pilot, but at the same time not. The young male walked towards the businessman and stood almost awkwardly a few feet away, that sweet smile still on his face. Most of his blond hair was under the peaked cap he wore, though he already took off his aviators, allowing Ivan to see his blue, blue eyes. "You called, Mr. Braginsky?"

Blue eyes behind glasses. "You are a pilot and yet you wear glasses?" was the first thing he just had to ask, and the young man laughed easily, adjusting them.

"Nah, sir, these are fake. I can see without 'em just fine. You wanted something?"

"Leave us," he dismissed the stewardess, who nodded hastily and disappeared to the back of the craft. Ivan motioned at Alfred. "Take them off."

Alfred's suggestive, forward reply stunned Ivan for a second. "My clothes? Joking! Well, sure?" Alfred slid the eyepiece off his face, pocketing them in his shirt. He adjusted his hat and tossed his hair, as if posing for photos. Ivan found it entertaining. "Better?"

"Much," Ivan replied lightly, pleased. Alfred looked younger than he was with those glasses off - as if he was still a teenager, maybe eighteen, nineteen. There was a firmness in his stance that Ivan liked, that hinted he was perfectly at home in an aircraft and he knew what he was doing. He simply exuded the idea of youth, liveliness and energy, so Ivan was already intrigued by this new character.

"Your name is...?"

"Alfred; Alfred Franklin Jones." His smile turned a little bit wicked, and Ivan was taken aback by how he found it extremely attractive. "At your service."

He wasn't imagining that slight emphasis on service. Was he?

"And you're Mr. Braginsky! It's a real pleasure to meet you sir," he continued enthusiastically, this time all innocent and energetic, extending a hand. Ivan shook it briefly but firmly.

"Kindly sit down. I have much to learn about you, Mr. Jones."

Same old, same old. Alfred did as he was told without much question, making himself as comfortable as possible on the seat opposite Ivan's. The way the boy made himself at home contrasted greatly with what Ivan was used to; rigid, unbending people, the picture of discipline and not much character. Ivan licked his lips, leaning back into his seat and placing his chin on a hand. He watched Alfred's open legs, how the fabric of his clothes moved, his skin tanned and beautiful; soft blond hair, sharp angles and soft lines, lovely pink lips and tongue as he spoke; he looked absolutely delicious...

"... me Alfred, sir."

Ivan looked up. "Pardon?"

"You can just call me Alfred, Mr. Braginsky." He rubbed his nose. "You okay?"

Ivan shook his head. "I am alright. How long is our flight?"

"About seven hours, but there's about five hours left till the plane lands. There's nothing else really 'cept cruising; I'll man the controls when we're over the ground again." He leaned back, whistling. "These are super comfortable. Do you travel often, Mr. Braginsky?"

Ivan couldn't keep his eyes away when Alfred made a small sound of contentment at the comfort. "Yes, I do," he murmured, then cleared his throat. "Almost every week, at times days back to back. You can imagine the amount of moving around I have to do, most of my resting time is in the plane."

"Yikes." Alfred looked entirely sympathetic. "Been there before. It's alright sir, I'll make your experience as comfortable as possible."

Ivan hid a smirk behind his glass as he took another sip. "Oh?"

Or maybe he's riding him and crying out Ivan's name;

"Of course, Mr. Braginsky." The blond's eyes skittered down to Ivan's body, to his crotch, like a pervading gaze - not once, not twice, but more. The businessman found it quite... Surprising.

"... Like what you see?"

"Uh -" Alfred took off his cap, expression unchanging, but the way he swallowed gave him away. He flushed slightly, grinning. "Sir. That would be all? I guess I'll go. But if you need me for anything, just call." Winking and without waiting for an answer, Alfred got up and walked briskly to the cockpit, if not for the strong hand that pulled him backwards -

- to land on Ivan's lap. The blond scrambled for purchase, eyes going wide when Ivan kissed him squarely on the lips.

Ivan was expecting the blond to push him away, roughly; instead he tilted his mouth for better access and surrendered a moan. His hands slid down to the Russian's lap, before he laughed softly. "Oh, hello. You need help with that, sir?"

"Yes, I do believe you're responsible for it."

That made Alfred flush hotter, but his reply was mischevious. "I'm sorry, Mr. Braginsky. How can I relieve you?"

"It might be a while."

"I've got, ahm - four hours. Before I gotta get back to the controls, just so you know. You wanna -"

Ivan shut him up with his mouth and oh, he tasted delicious, while Alfred was getting 'round the vodka and sucking the hell out of Ivan's tongue and lower lip, and distantly the Russian wondered how it'll be like to have that mouth on his cock.

In the middle of kissing the daylights out of the Russian, Alfred broke off for air, cursing. "Aw, shit."

"What is it?"

"No one told me you were fucking hot. And a great kisser." The pilot licked Ivan's lower lip sensually, trying to shift around for better access, before giving up and getting off. Ivan looked confused, and Alfred thought it was kinda cute, how he looked a little lost. "Just gimme a sec."

"What are you -"

Alfred toed off his shoes and socks, unzipped his pants, threw them off, loosened his tie and then went back to attach himself to Ivan, this time straddling him instead of simply sitting down. He was left with only his rumpled shirt and navy blue briefs. "Those pants are a bitch to move around in, I should know."

Ivan wrapped his arms around the blond's waist, raising an eyebrow. "And you speak as if you've had experience."

"You callin' me a virgin, mister?" Alfred drawled, nipping Ivan's nose playfully, which made him wrinkle it. "Well if it makes you feel any better, you're the first Russian I've ever, umm, wanted to relieve."

"Oh?" he asked lightly, sliding a hand into Alfred's underwear and pulling it down, freeing his cock. Alfred started to breathe heavier when Ivan swirled a thumb over the head, obscene sounds falling uncontrollably from his mouth when Ivan managed to unbutton his shirt halfway, and suckle on a sensitive, pink nipple.

"Y-yeah, ah, ah - gonna be - mmm - first!"

"How nice." Ivan stopped Alfred from discarding his shirt. "No, keep it on." He slid his hands down Alfred's back, over the white fabric, and settled both his hands on his ass, squeezing. "I want to fuck my pilot with his uniform on."

Alfred's cheeks suddenly coloured. "Oh, shit, yes." He looked down at Ivan's erection - huge, even if still in his pants - and Alfred licked his lips. "Oh, definitely." He unbuckled Ivan's belt and slid off Ivan's lap, taking his slacks with him, discarding his underwear along the way. When his hands touched the waistband of Ivan's briefs, the man stopped him by taking his chin and kissing him hungrily. Alfred voiced his approval - before breaking it off when he felt a cloth sneaking around his wrists.

He looked at his hands curiously. It was Ivan's silk tie, the colour of deep violet, tied in a neat knot with a strange little bow to complete the look. Alfred had the strange urge to giggle.

"You've gotta be kidding me - whoah!"

Ivan picked him up almost effortlessly, which stunned Alfred - then threw him on the three-seater couch, and that made Alfred laugh, loving the way huge hands slid along his sides and held his hips from moving. Then Ivan paused.

"Ah - why d'you stop...?"

One of the huge windows beside the seat had blazing, golden light shine on Alfred's hair and skin, lighting him up and making those eyes seem like molten blue-gold. It took a while for Ivan to regain his bearings; when he did he attacked Alfred's mouth roughly, as if committing the memory of his taste to heart.

The larger man manhandled Alfred; turning him over so that his back was facing Ivan. When that hot mouth latched onto the back of his neck, licking and teasing - even getting the shell of his ear all wet - he bit his lip, enjoying the attention. Through the lusty haze he tested the knot on his wrists - they were tight. Not uncomfortable. It was as if Mr. Braginsky has had a lot of practice before this.

"Damn, man, you're a kinky bastard."

Ivan slapped Alfred's ass without warning, making the younger man yelp in surprise. "You do not insult your employers, da? Now apologise."

"Mm, sorry, sir. You're a fine, kinky, strangely sexy Russian. That's about to fuck his equally sexy pilot. Better?" Alfred purred, sensitive nipples pressing insistently on the leather of the seat he was lying on every time Ivan moved.

A smile tugged at Ivan's lips - he couldn't help it - and he chuckled. "Surely you aren't like this with your other clients."

Alfred smiled secretively. No, he didn't usually make it part of his agenda to roll about in the figurative sheets with the people he transported around. It helped too, that Ivan wasn't treating him like a kid who didn't know his way around, or like a fuck toy, and actually talked nicely to him with that sweet, accented voice. He never took himself as a complete sucker for Russians.

"How 'bout you? You fuck every hot, young blond pilots you employ, Mr. Braginsky?" Alfred asked cheekily, blond hair falling into his eyes as he turned his head to look at what Mr. Braginsky was doing. Lube was being coated - rather generously - on his long fingers, and Alfred shivered. Maybe he should've been disturbed that the guy's prepared enough to actually have lube on the plane, but hey, he's seen stranger things. And anyway, it was hot.

"Only the interesting ones. Spread your legs wide, boy."

Alfred did as he was told, ignoring that he didn't feel that insulted with Ivan calling him a boy. He lifted his hips, resting the upper part of his body on a cushion he grabbed nearby. "Yes, sir. Just how old are you, anyway?" he asked, stifling a loud moan when the businessman shoved a lubed finger up his ass without warning. Ivan hummed, exploring the tightness as the blond writhed at the sensation, trying to relax. His reply was light; amused.

"Old enough to turn you into a mess when I'm done." He crooked his finger, rubbing against Alfred's inner walls in such a way that tore a mewl out of the younger man, making his back arch. Ivan smiled wider, especially when he moved and that firm, beautiful ass clenched around his finger, almost inviting. He added another finger, scissoring and twisting them - "Ah -" - biting down on Alfred's shoulder and making him hiss. The shirt he wore slid completely off his shoulders, bunching up on his elbows.

"N-Not fair."

"Tell me if you want me to fuck you."

"You know that alrea -"

"Tell me, boy." Alfred was about to protest when a sudden shiver wracked through his body when Ivan rubbed against his prostate, a moan breaking out.

"F-Fuck me," he cried out, cheeks heating up almost unbearably. "A-Ah, there, said it, fuck you, fuck me now."

It was only Ivan's great height that allowed him to lean forward, moulding his body against Alfred's as he turned the blond's head with his free hand and kissed him slow; sweet. Alfred's response was desperate and needy. It took him great will to separate from the wanton blond, reaching out to get a conveniently placed condom in a compartment nearby, same place where he got the lube from.

Ivan tore the packet with his teeth, hands slightly shaking when they slid the cool rubber over his heavy cock. For all the lust coursing through him, Alfred still sucked in a breath when he got a good look at how huge this guy exactly was, eyes widening.

"Y-You sure that thing can -"


"You sure?"

"Yes, my pilot." Ivan rolled his eyes despite himself, and stroked the blond's cock until he was nothing but a mess of words. "I will be gentle, hm?"

Alfred curled his toes; the hand on his cock, the binds on his wrists and the feel of something pressing against his entrance overloading his senses. Soon Ivan was moving, and Alfred found himself making embarrassingly loud noises.

When Ivan seated in, balls-deep, Alfred gasped breathlessly and panted, eyes closed. "Oh. Shit, you're big..." He shifted his hips, feeling every inch of that hot dick inside him and Ivan's breath against his neck and shoulder. He mewled when Ivan thrusted shallowly. "Ah - fucking, fucking beautiful cock, so huge - give me a goddamned second -"

Ivan would not wait a goddamned second. He thrusted a bit more, causing Alfred to cry out and clench around involuntarily, head falling to rest on his arms. It was enough of a signal for Ivan to let go of his restraints and set a punishing pace, pounding into the young man mercilessly. The words that managed to come out of Alfred's throat were nonsensical, and Ivan himself has never breathed so heavily with so much heat around his cock - it was rare he could fuck someone so deep. Ivan picked up the pace, almost lifting Alfred as he shifted angles, the movement becoming more frantic as Ivan felt his release coming near. Alfred gasped, seeing stars.


Ivan came hard into the young blond, muffling his moan when he bit hard into Alfred's shoulder, almost drawing blood. Alfred screamed into the pillow when he climaxed a second later, semen spurting out onto the seats and the cushion.

Neither of them moved away; only their chests did as they came down from their high.

Their breathing slowed. Alfred was the first one to speak; breathless.

"... Wow."

Ivan laughed softly, taking care to pull out from the beautiful pilot, sorry for the loss of heat. He slid off the condom, full of his seed - tied it and threw it away, then gathered the shivering blond into his arms. Alfred wanted to die at the mess he made all over Ivan's furniture. He tried apologising over it, words garbled in his tongue before he simply cut the thought off and ignored it altogether.

They settled in relative silence, before Ivan called out. "Eliza?"

Alfred blushed all the way to his shoulders, realising that there was another person on the plane.

Oh shit she could've heard everything holy shit!

Then it was a race to try and cover up his debauched state as best as he could. When he couldn't get the Russian to move over so he could reach for his clothes lying around, he gave up and hid his face in Ivan's neck. The Russian found it strangely adorable, and tightened his hold on the boy's waist, kissing his ear. It was a compulsive move that surprised even himself.

"Get us a cloth to clean up."

"Yes, sir." Her smile was automatic as always, and Alfred waited until her footsteps faded before he looked up, glaring at Ivan.

"Whyd'you have to do that?" Ivan thought it was hilarious that Alfred was whispering, keeping quiet after their little tryst. It didn't really matter, the ones inside the aircraft were only three people and the plane wasn't that huge for her to not know what was going on. "Whyyy -"

"Do what?"

"Call her to come here! My god, I can't look at her in the face anymore!"

"I wanted to clean myself. Or perhaps it is not what you wanted?"

Well, true. And anyway, it was his plane, he could do whatever the fuck he wanted. Still! Alfred made a noise at the back of his throat. "I just -"

"Or is it perhaps because she saw you naked?"


"And you feel perfectly comfortable being naked around me?"

"Because we were having sex, of course it's okay!" Ivan dissolved in laughter. "I'm being serious here, don't laugh at me like that, you jerk. Ow! Don't pinch my ass like that!"

"You liked it earlier, darling." Alfred bristled at Ivan's comment, and this time, he smiled. Alfred thought his boss looked gorgeous, and he cringed at the thought, hitting his head against Ivan's shoulder.

"... I just slept with my boss."

Ivan smiled innocently, looking entirely too pleased with himself. "Well, yes. On the first day as well."

"Ffff -why aren't you firing my ass yet?"

"Why in the world would I want to do that?" Ivan replied with a question of his own, tone light and amused. Alfred shrugged helplessly.

"Aren't there like, work ethics, or something?"

"You're an efficient pilot, you come highly recommended, you've done a satisfactory job, and with extra credit. What more can I ask?" Then he whispered the next words into Alfred's ear, brushing against them with soft lips. "I think, I would like to keep you."

It made the Alfred Franklin Jones blush a hot red, and Ivan decided he liked it. "You do this to all pilots you fuck?" He couldn't stop himself from asking, an almost unnoticeable pout on his face. Cute.

"Hardly," Ivan snorted, petting Alfred's hair. "You do realise you are the only pilot I have ever 'fucked', yes?"

"No way. I don't believe it."

"You needn't flatter me."

"No way. But - I've heard stuff about you!"

"Rumours? Tell me about them."

"Fuck, man, there was this one about you hiring young blond pilots, because you like blondes. And you do things to them. While in the plane. You know."

"No, not pilots. Those are... Other people." Ivan kissed him. "But your taste, I think I might get used to it."

Alfred rolled his eyes. "God forbid you ever meet my bro then, he's got golden hair too, y'know."

"When Yao recommended you to me, it was based on your skills, your looks are secondary to that. Not that I'm calling you less than gorgeous, of course," Ivan added, and Alfred looked pleased. "It just so happened that you are young, and blond, and have a thing for older Russians."

"... Righto."

"Call me Ivan."

"So I get a job, you're my boss, I meet you for the first time, I find you hot, you find me hot -"

"Cute, as well."

"- not cute - we both have mind-blowing sex, and I get first-name rights. How awesome."

The Russian rubbed his back in automatic, circular motions. "I'll take good care of you. You simply have to deal with me being much older than you are." There was a very, very slight note of uncertainty over the word 'older'; Alfred almost thought he imagined it. He scoffed.

"I think you take the prize in being so unbelievably sexy I don't give a damn about how much older you are than me. As long as you don't - just - make it a one-night-stand thing? I think I really like - to -" Alfred ducked his head and mumbled something.

There was a second's pause, before Ivan smiled against his neck, kissing and nibbling lazily. "Yes. You can worship my 'fucking beautiful cock', as you put it so eloquently."

"I didn't say that! Fuck you," the pilot grumbled, boneless under Ivan's comforting ministrations. It didn't sound so bad. Working with a sexy Russian, having good sex with said Russian, traveling everywhere and getting to fly one of the fastest bizjets around really didn't sound so bad. "... Well. Am I gonna get good food?"

"Of course."

Alfred perked up, excited. "Awesome."