Vladimir broke his couch on purpose when he tossed them on it, taking out the entire back with a violent groan of releasing springs and spilled stuffing. Biting at his lips and laughing like a maniac as the Russian rolled them through it and wrestled him for the right to yank him out of his pants. Sucking him down and swallowing around him like it was the closest thing the bastard could get to an apology.

So, in the end, considering the fact that he ended up cumming harder than he ever had in his entire god damned life, choking the douchebag with his dick when his hips jerked and the man did something absolutely impossible with his tongue, he decided to chalk it up as a win.

Couch desecration notwithstanding.

"You know, you never told me…"

It was only really in the aftermath that he remembered to ask about it. When he was lying flat on his back, spread out like a starfish. Feeling more like he was breathing for two with Vladimir sprawled out on top of him. Pinning him comfortably to the mattress as the Russian's prick twitched valiantly in the cradle of his thigh. Sated and breathing obnoxiously loud as the man nosed into the scruff of his neck and generally seemed uninclined to roll off him any time soon.

"Told 'vat?" Vladimir grunted, stubble rasping against the sensitive inner of his neck as the Russian burrowed deeper. Hips rolling slow against him without any real purpose than to continue the gentle friction as his breathing hitched damningly. Making him smack him on the ass in retribution for the smirk the man pressed into his skin.

"You never told me what I said," he reminded, nails tracing idle patterns along the dips in the Russian's spine. Feeling, not for the first time, somewhat cheated at not being able to see himself on his one's skin. His mark. When Vladimir could see his etched clearly into the pale of his inner arm.

"Back in the tunnel. I know what you said. About knowing in spite of it…but the bondmark, well, it's different. It's proof you can see, touch. So, what was it that made you so sure I was…yours? What was it that I said?"

He frowned when a full minute passed. Listening to the man's heartbeat as it hitched slightly. Steady and strong, but shallowed intermittently by half-starts and long pauses. Like the man was thinking his answer through before putting it to voice.

"Not said yet," Vladimir admitted, the truth of it keen as the man stretched out on top of him – muscles flexing. "I think long on 'dis. When sleeping. Between nurses needles and glares, da? When I was alone in tunnel, I knew, felt pull – pull to you. But was dead man, so thought I go out with bang, yes? The song I sing then was your mark because if not I would be dead, yes? Was most important thing in moment…would not be here…vmeste without it."

"But my mark? One that sits below – here," the man continued, taking his hand and guiding it to the arch of the Russian's right hip. Letting him feel his way across the skin, automatically trying to see if he could find some trace of what it was – what it said as he ran his fingers back and forth across the pebbly, scar-studded skin. "You not said."

"But someday I think you 'vill," Vladimir hummed, pleasure, surety and affection clear in his tone - almost like the man was smiling as he spoke. Gifting the words with a snapshot of sensation he was able to translate in his mind's eye. "Soon maybe. I wait, yes?"

He blinked.

But what, oh-

Oh.

That son of a-

He sucked in a breath. Mind flicking through half a dozen different emotions. Frustration. Fondness. Before he decided to settle on hopeless and shook his head. Shoving all thoughts of the future aside for a moment in favor of taking the man by surprise and bucking him off his perch.

"Mudak," he grunted, the word deliberate and clear but lacking the Russian's natural brogue as he rolled them over. Taking all the covers with him as Vladimir just laughed – playful and darkly affectionate - as he teetered on the edge of the bed. Naked as a jaybird and twice as cunning as the man's heartbeat thrummed up another notch. Filling the air with a sudden burst of anticipation

And really, that should have been his first clue.

Because before he could anchor himself to the mattress, Vladimir pounced. Taking him down with him as they slipped off the mattress and on to the floor with a creaky thump and a jumbled mess of tangled limbs and sheets. Shouting at each other until he shut his stupid soulmate up with his lips and tongue and strongly considered suffocating him with a pillow until the man reached up and fumbled with the bottle of lube. Grabbing their pricks and distracting him with the beginning of a slow, torturous glide before ringing around his entrance with a slick finger. Murmuring something absolutely filthy in his ear as the Russian's cock fell heavy and leaking into the small of his back.

His ass smarted for days after that.

And only part of it was because of the fall.