Twenty-Eight
Arseny
Caiden is already breathing like he’s run five miles. His chest is rising in uneven bursts as he lies back, his eyes fixed on me like I’m something he can’t look away from even if he tries.
I take a few seconds longer than I need to. I want him to feel it. I want him to be aware of every moment and every choice.
I reach for him slowly, deliberately, giving him time to stop me. My fingers work his belt open, and I drag the zipper down, then his jeans and boxers over his thighs, baring him fully.
His cock is heavy, flushed, and the head is already wet. It slaps back against his stomach as his hips lift instinctively. “Stay,” I say, low and firm, throwing his jeans behind me. He freezes, his muscles tight, and his breath shuddering as he obeys.
I don’t touch him right away. I let my gaze do the work instead, dragging slowly over the lines of his body, memorising every reaction. His stomach tenses, and his fingers curl into the sheets like he’s bracing himself.
I smile, then take him in my hand. He gasps, and the sound rips straight through me.
I give him a slow teasing stroke, feeling him thicken and twitch in my grip.
I lean in and wrap my lips around his dripping head, taking him deep without warning.
I’ve been thinking about this all day. I waste no time, sucking hard, exactly how he likes it.
I pull back, my tongue swirling along the ridge of his head before I take him deep into my throat again.
“Oh God, Ari.” He moans, gripping the bedsheets tighter.
My saliva and his pre-cum coat the length of him as my head bobs.
I hollow my cheeks for tighter suction, drawing louder sounds from him.
His taste hits my tongue and, fuck, just as I think my restraint is holding, I feel it snap.
I want Caiden to be greedy for me. I want him ruined and screaming my name when he comes.
I look up at his face from this angle, and my cock twitches in my jeans, so hard it aches. “Ari, fuck me—” he moans.
“Patience, detka,” I say, releasing him for a second.
“Not yet.” His eyes stay locked on me as I slide my index finger into my mouth, soaking it.
My hand dips down, and I circle his hole before pushing inside, then I take his cock back into my mouth.
The breach is slow as I stretch him around my finger.
I pump in and out of him carefully, grazing that spot that makes him gasp.
He cries out, and his hips buck, trying to fuck my face, but I pin him down with my free hand.
My finger curls inside him, and he pleasure rolls through his body — judging by the whimpers tearing loose from his lips.
I push my lips further down his length, taking him all the way back as I slowly add a second finger.
His hands shoot down to grip my hair, his voice cracking, his hips jerking as he tries to push deeper into my mouth while pulling away from my fingers opening him up. “Easy, detka, or I’ll have to tie you down,” I warn, releasing his cock to speak.
I increase my pace, thrusting my fingers more roughly now; my nails grazing his skin as I hammer that sweet spot inside him.
My throat relaxes to take his full length again and again, the rhythm climbing fast. My saliva mixed with his pre-cum drips down his balls, down to where my fingers are slipping in and out of him, and my suction turns merciless.
His moans break into desperate pants; his body is trembling on the edge.
He’s actually shaking. Good. I want him right here, hovering at the point of breaking, unsure if he can take more but aching for it anyway.
Every sound he makes, makes me harder. “Ari, please,” he pants. Finally, I pull my fingers free and release him, rising to my feet.
I strip off the rest of my clothes in quick, efficient movements.
“Stay on your back, legs up for me.” He scoots fully onto the bed, lifting his knees to his chest, exposing himself completely.
His hole clenches in anticipation, still slick from my fingers, and the sight nearly undoes me.
Not because of the position — though fuck — but because he doesn’t hesitate.
Not for a second. He wants me. He trusts me.
“Fuck,” I mutter, more to myself than to him. “Just like that, Caiden.” I reach over to the bedside table and pull out a tub. I smear it over my throbbing shaft, pumping myself slowly as Caiden watches.
I climb onto the bed, kneeling between his thighs, gripping his ankles, pushing them apart and higher. “Are you ready for me, detka?” I ask, using my slicked-up fingers to rub the lube over his hole. He nods frantically as I lean over him and line myself up.
The head of my cock nudges against his entrance, then I push inside slowly, inch by inch, stretching him open, stopping halfway, and letting him adjust. He gasps at the burn, the fullness, and I lock my eyes on his, holding him steady.
“M—more,” he gasps. I rock my hips, pushing in another inch. He whimpers, and I pull back, dragging my cock almost fully out slowly, “Fuck,” he moans.
“Can you take all of me?” I ask, holding back a groan.
“Mmph, yeah. I want all of it. Give it to me,” he demands.
“Good boy,” I growl, snapping my hips forward and bottoming out with a final thrust, slamming inside him.
“Arseny!” he shouts, squeezing his eyes shut, and his breathing hitching as his fingernails dig into my back.
I see the moment pain and pleasure combine, and the point where his body softens and accepts me fully.
He feels like heat, pressure and something very close to heaven.
It feels too good, I’m not going to last long.
“Look at me,” I rasp, as I pump inside him slowly at first. His eyes open, locking onto mine, and something slams into me hard.
Mine. Fuck. He’s mine.
I don’t hold anything back, my hips snap forward in brutal, relentless thrusts, and I slam my cock in deep with a feral force.
“Oh God, fuck... Ari.” The second he says my name again, raw and broken, everything else disintegrates. I dig my fingers into his hips and fuck him like I’ve wanted to since the day he shoved me against that tree. Hard. Deep. Nothing careful left.
He takes it. Every thrust. Every sound he makes drags another growl from my throat. He’s trembling, sweating, falling apart under me, and I want to see every second of it.
His hands slide down my back, and he grabs onto my ass, digging his fingers into the cheeks hard, making my balls ache and tearing a “Bozhe—” from my throat.
He cries out, the pleasure and pain tangling into something unbearable. I feel him tighten, his body coils, his breath breaks, and the look on his face nearly rips me open.
I lean over him, slipping my tongue into his mouth, kissing him hard through his moans and pants. He’s so close. I’m so close. I pound into him deeper, harder. My balls slap against his ass as I drive my whole length into him, hitting that sweet spot mercilessly. “Ari, I’m gonna come,” he pants.
“Fuck, let go,” I growl against his mouth. “Come for me.” His ass tightens around me as he does. He comes hard, violently, and it’s fucking beautiful.
I follow him seconds later, burying myself deep inside him with a final sound that doesn’t feel human. I don’t care. All I want is closer, deeper, more. I come so hard spots dance in my vision; my toes go numb, and I’m pretty sure I can taste colours and see sound.
When it’s over, I don’t move. I stay there as his breathing shudders against my neck, pressing my forehead to his shoulder, just for a second.
Instantly, I realise it’s too soft, too revealing. So, I pull back before he can read into it, but the damage is already done.
The room is quiet, but it’s not heavy or tense anymore.
It’s the kind of silence that follows something fucking incredible.
Caiden is sprawled on his back, his chest still heaving, his hair a wreck, and his lips are still swollen.
He looks ruined, and that’s the kind of sight that hits me straight in the ego in all the right ways.
I pull out, sitting back on my heels, wiping sweat from my brow with the back of my hand. My pulse is still hammering, and my body is still wired. His voice comes out rough. “Holy fuck, Ari.”
I smirk. “Mm. I know.”
He lets out a breathless little disbelieving laugh. “That was... Jesus. Just give me a second. I think I just died and my soul left my body.”
I tilt my head, watching him like prey that hasn’t realised the predator isn’t done. “A second?” I ask. “Why?”
He blinks at me, exhausted and confused. “Because you just— I mean—”
I crawl up the bed, slowly, planting one hand beside his head. His breath hitches instantly, like his body recognises the threat before his brain catches up. “Detka. Did you think we were finished?”
His eyes widen instantly. “Ari, my legs don’t even—” I steal his oxygen with a kiss.
It’s deep, filthy, and I smirk against his mouth when he makes that helpless, breathless sound.
One of his hands fists weakly in my hair, the other skims down my back, then lower, grabbing onto my ass again.
When I pull away, he’s practically panting. “Again?” I murmur.
“I’m not saying no. I’m saying my legs don’t work.”
“Good.” I grab his knee and nudge it up, wrapping his leg around my waist. “Then you can’t run away.”
That earns me a hoarse laugh. “You’re unbelievable.”
“And you,” I say, kissing along his jaw, “are still hard.” He chuckles as his cock twitches against his cum-splattered stomach, leaking, eager despite everything he claimed about dying moments ago.
I drag my finger through the mess he made, slow and smug.
Then I slip it into my mouth and suck my finger clean.
“Your body wants me more than your brain can process.”
“Don’t start gloating,” he groans.
“Oh, I’m just getting warmed up,” I say. He looks so goddamn good like this, still challenging me through it. “Tell me something, Caiden.”
“What?” he breathes.
“When exactly did you think you were safe?” I ask, kissing his throat. “After you begged?” His pulse jumps. “After you came?” My lips brush his ear. “After I filled you?”
He swallows so hard I hear the gulp. “I hate you.”
“No,” I say gently, catching his jaw and forcing him to look at me. “You don’t.”
“Ari...”
“There,” I murmur, smirking. “That’s the tone I like.” I press my hips down against his, hard enough to make him gasp and buck instinctively beneath me. “See?” I whisper. “Not finished yet.”
He lets out a breathless laugh. “You’re insane.”
“And you like it.”
“Unfortunately,” he agrees. I kiss him again, quick this time, sharp, playful, then bite his lower lip just enough to make him flinch and dig his nails into my ass harder. When I pull back, he’s panting again.
“Round two. Now.”
By the time we finally collapse, his chest is pressed to mine, slick with sweat, and both of us breathing like we’ve been dragged underwater then barely resurfaced.
Caiden laughs against my throat, exhausted, and the sound rocks me harder than anything else tonight.
I don’t realise I’ve wrapped an arm around him until I feel his fingers trail lazily down my ribs.
I need to put space between us before the quiet hits, and before my brain catches up to the fact that I’m still inside this moment. But instead, I lie here catching my breath, feeling the slow rise and fall of his chest against mine, and his weight settling into me.
The softness moves me before I can stop it, and I kiss him, slowly, deeply, swallowing the aftermath right from his mouth.
I pull his bare body against mine, and his breathing steadies slowly, syncing with mine as he falls asleep.
He’s so warm, in a way I’m not used to. I never usually stay afterwards.
In fact, I find any excuse I can to leave.
But this is different.
I stroke my thumb over the back of his neck unconsciously. It’s far too gentle, and I immediately regret it when something that feels like contentment spreads through me.
No. No, no, no. This is not what we’re doing.
I shift, putting a sliver of distance between us, but he follows the movement without waking, nuzzling into the curve of my shoulder like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
My heart races violently as I stare at the ceiling, trying to calm the stupid panic in my chest. I risk another look at him, noticing how the firelight throws soft gold across his cheekbone, his jaw, and his mouth — the same mouth that drives me insane.
Fuck. I’m in trouble.
I brush his hair back just to get it out of his eyes, and his face softens against my shoulder. “Pozhaluysta, ne nado...” Please, don’t... I whisper into the dark. He makes a sleepy unconcerned sound, that makes my stomach do somersaults.
I need to move, to put the walls back in place before morning. But his arm tightens across my stomach, nuzzling closer in his sleep, and the fight goes out of me in one crushing, humiliating exhale.
I stay where I am.
Not because I should or because it’s wise and survivable. I stay because, for the first time in years, someone is holding onto me like I’m worth holding.
And I’m not strong enough to walk away from that.
Not tonight.