Chapter 10
Grim
Grim raised the comforter as gently as he could, and his breath caught in his throat when Misha’s right stump emerged into the faint light coming through the net curtain. It was smooth, and the hint of a scar at the side made Grim’s heart beat faster. He wanted to lie down and put his face between the stumps, have Misha squeeze them around his head, and suckle on the soft skin until he could come by his own hand.
Once the second stump was laid bare, Grim switched on the camera in his phone and started recording a short movie. He let the camera linger on Misha’s relaxed face first, with some of his hair out of the tight knot that he always wore since the rescue. Tension rose in Grim’s body as he filmed Misha’s smooth chest, the shorts hiding Misha’s pretty dick, the thighs that Grim couldn’t wait to fuck, and then the tender, forbidden flesh of the stumps. It looked so unique he could hardly breathe, filling with excitement as he leaned down to film the scars.
Their irregular shape made Misha even more special. Unlike many on other amputations Grim had seen, Misha’s scars were pink and quite visible. It made Grim wonder what doctor sewed them up, because some of them looked crude. A few lighter scars marred the skin on the knees and below, most probably from the accident Misha was in. Grim had to remember to ask about that once Misha seemed to be in a good enough mood.
Grim gasped when Misha shifted the stump in his sleep. He put his hand over his mouth to keep himself from getting too loud. The sheet wrinkled slightly from the pressure of Misha’s flesh, and Grim imagined it being his own skin .
He stopped the video and switched over to the photography option, leaning down to catch a good angle at Misha’s face from the perspective of the stumps. His subject shifted in his sleep, yawning like the cutest little puppy, but when one of his eyes opened, Grim didn’t have enough brainpower to hide the cell right away.
“Hey,” Misha muttered, but the moment his eyes focused on the device, he sat up as if someone had poured crushed ice all over him. “What are you doing?” he hissed and reached out to grab Grim’s phone.
Grim hid the phone behind his back. His lips pulsed with the need to kiss the broken limbs that were within his reach. “I was looking at you.”
“Were you taking photos?” Misha’s breath got quicker, and he pulled his legs to his chest as if to protect them, clearly unaware that getting to see them move was pushing Grim’s arousal into sky-high levels.
Grim shrugged, not seeing any sense in denying Misha’s question, even though he disliked the accusatory tone. “Only a few.”
Just as Grim was expecting Misha to complain and cuddle up in the comforter, Misha sprung forward and pushed Grim to the bed, trying to pull the phone out of Grim’s hand. “Are you insane?”
Grim stretched his hand to keep the phone out of Misha’s grasp, though the weight on top of him was not unwelcome, shifting and digging into his own flesh as Misha struggled against Grim’s strength. “What are you doing?”
“Anyone can break into your phone! I’ll be dead if they find me! Are those photos just on your phone or in the cloud, too? Is your Internet on?” Misha’s eyes were wide as he tried to wrestle down Grim’s arm, straddling his chest.
“In the cloud? What does that even mean?” groaned Grim, and he put his hand on Misha’s ass. He understood that Misha was nervous about someone following him, but this was beyond ridiculous. “How would they even know which phone to target out of all the others in the country? It’s statistically impossible.”
“There’s face recognition programs. And if they assume I left with a biker, they could narrow down their search. What do you mean you don’t know what the cloud is? Are your photos automatically saved to a folder on the Internet?” Misha grabbed Grim’s jaw and showed his teeth. “Stop touching my ass and think.”
Thinking was difficult with Misha on top, especially with his eyes so fierce and the stumps touching Grim’ s sides. “Er ... I don’t know?”
“Fuck. Give me your phone. Now.” Misha squinted at him. “You haven’t shared this anywhere, right?”
Grim shook his head, and he chewed on his lip, unable to think about anything but that hot body on top of him. “I’ll give it to you if I can touch them.”
For a moment, Misha’s face went blank. “Okay,” he finally muttered, settling in Grim’s lap.
Grim smiled and pulled him closer as he passed Misha the phone. “You’re afraid of shadows. No one’s gonna come for you. Besides, I already told you that I’m gonna help. You’re totally safe,” he promised, gliding his palm over the stump that was scarred the most. A flash of heat filled his stomach and tugged on Grim’s balls as he gently petted Misha’s leg while holding him and watching that pretty face go all serious, like an angry toddler’s. Misha needed to be eased into it gradually and understand that Grim wouldn’t do anything nasty just because he was allowed near the stumps.
Grim bit his lips when the stump twitched slightly at his touch, but Misha didn’t even look at him, too busy meddling with Grim’s phone.
“You don’t know these people. You don’t know what they do. I’d rather be safe than sorry.”
Grim exhaled and gently tickled the other stump. He leaned in and kissed Misha’s temple, breathing in the scent of last night’s sweat. He was sorry to let the photos go, but if a happy Misha was a Misha that would be more sexually open, then he’d sacrifice the pictures. “All right. No photos.”
“Not to mention that it’s fucked up that you’d take them when I was sleeping. I’m not a fancy lunch you can put on Facebook.” He pursed his lips and threw the phone to the bedding, as if it were a slimy dead frog.
Grim kissed Misha’s cheekbone, hugging him. “I’m not sharing them with anyone. You’re all mine now.”
Misha gave Grim’s face a shove. “Are you done touching?”
Grim massaged his jaw and frowned. “What was that? I said I’m sorry.”
“You’re not sorry. You’re only sorry you got caught. I thought we had a connection yesterday, and you perv on me with photos when I’m sleeping? What the fuck?” He tried to slip out of Grim’s grasp, but Grim only held him tighter.
“You don’t let me touch them so I thought I’d at least have photos for now. I can’t see how this is hurting you. I’m not gonna force myself on you, and you should already know I mean no harm! ”
“You’re deluded. That’s what you are. I told you yesterday that I was freaking out over cameras. Or did you not listen, too busy thinking of ways to coerce me into letting you touch them? Fucking Christ. This is so messed up.” Misha rubbed his eyes, and Grim could not understand what the big deal was about.
“I listened, but it’s a phobia. Like those people who are afraid of spiders for no reason. I wasn’t sending anything to anyone.”
“Let me go. I need to shower.” Misha wouldn’t meet Grim’s gaze, which only ignited Grim further.
“What’s going on in that head of yours, huh?” He pulled Misha’s face up.
“Nothing. I just don’t know what to think. I need some space.”
Grim pressed his lips together and patted Misha’s back. He was unsure how to navigate this. “But the sex was great,” he reminded Misha.
“I guess it would have been even better for you if you got to suck on my stumps, right?” Misha grumbled, and Grim let him slide out of his embrace. He was beyond cute when he crawled across the bed and reached out for his wheelchair, digging his knees hard into the mattress for balance.
Grim massaged the side of his face, already tired of this argument. “I’m trying to respect your boundaries, and you still give me shit. I don’t know what you want from me.”
“I want you to not take photos of me when I sleep.” Misha transferred into the wheelchair, and if it weren’t for Misha having such a cute face and Grim wanting to establish a long term relationship with him, he’d give him a slap for this bullshit.
“I already told you I won’t,” he said, watching Misha’s stump press against one of the metal pipes that made up the wheelchair.
“Good,” Misha said in a tone that didn’t suggest it really was and then wheeled past Grim and into the other room.
Grim fell down to the mattress, trying to calm down the agitation simmering beneath his skin. He didn’t even want to jerk off in these circumstances. He was too distracted, and frankly—tired of Misha’s attitude. He was acting as if Grim were the villain in this equation. But as he listened to the water trickling in the bathroom, he had an idea how to coerce some positive reactions out of Misha again .
Misha took his time in the bathroom, and when he was out, he was already wearing a tank top and a pair of pinned-up tracksuit bottoms, which hid those beautiful stumps from view.
Grim pinched his chin, watching Misha from the bed, dressed and clean from the shower he’d had earlier. Misha had taken his time in there, and his skin was now deliciously pink, but the steam didn’t seem to have changed his attitude.
“Are we going farther east today? And I’m hungry. Can we get breakfast here? It would save us time later,” he said as if nothing happened.
“We’re staying here for another day,” said Grim, watching Misha with a new, steady feeling in his chest. He needed to dissect his bird. Maybe once he knew what hid inside, Misha would be more receptive?
“Oh.” Misha folded his hands in his lap. “Is that safe? Are you sure we shouldn’t be on the move?”
Grim shook his head. “Running is more likely to get you caught, and besides, we have things to do while we’re here.”
“We do?”
Grim nodded and pulled over one of his bags, where he kept additional weapons. “Come here.”
And there was that wary look that told Grim he would need to do more work on Misha again if he ever wanted to have steady access to what Misha was now so loudly denying him. Misha moved closer in his wheelchair, and as soon as he was at arm’s reach, Grim presented him the .22 Ruger that he believed could be a good firearm for beginners.
Misha inhaled deeply, and Grim had all of his attention, as if Grim hadn’t used a firearm but a magic wand. “Is this for me?” He looked up at Grim with those big brown eyes.
Grim smirked. Bingo. He got straight into Misha’s reward center. “Might be, but before I can trust you to handle it, you need to practice. I don’t want you to hurt yourself,” he said and gently put the gun into Misha’s hands.
Misha weighed it in his hand, completely captivated. “Yes, I want to practice. I wouldn’t want to shoot you by accident either. I’ve never held a gun before.”
“No?” Grim leaned forward, squinting at Misha. “I got the impression you’re back to hating me.”
Misha inhaled with a guilty look on his face. “I don’t hate you. There are many people worse than you out there.”
Grim rolled his eyes, and his insides clenched with anger. “You’re the worst at compliments. I don’t know whether I should slap you or shed a tear.”
At least Grim managed to elicit a little smile out of the fucker.
“I bet you’d rather have sweet Andrey here. Laughing at your jokes, letting you fuck him whenever you like.”
Grim snorted. “Anyone could have sweet Andrey. You are only mine. Only I know you this way.”
Misha gently nudged him with the stump hidden in his pants. Grim knew damn well it was teasing, but he still fell for it.
“Now I don’t know if I should thank you or slap you.”
Grim frowned, deflated. “What did I say wrong this time?”
“You just reminded me that anyone with an Internet connection can see porn with me.” Misha looked back to the gun again, running his fingers along the metal.
Grim’s face got sour as well. “Fuck. There’s nothing I can say that won’t be taken against me, is there?”
“You could always lie and say I’m funny and have a lovely personality.” Misha wiggled his eyebrows.
This time, it was Grim’s turn to smile. He thought back to Misha’s serious face when he had been choosing clothes he wanted to try on, as if were some kind of life-and-death situation. “You’re fine with my job,” he offered in the end.
Misha handled the gun as if it were a porcelain egg. “I could be a sniper. Help you out. For a fee, of course.” But a smile still tugged at his lips.
Grim’s heart stirred, and he slowly curled his fingers around Misha’s wrist, drawn closer as if Misha were a magnet. “Sounds like fun. You’d be my sidekick.”
“I’d need to have a mask too.”
“We can get one later. What kind would you like?” asked Grim, whose mind was already wandering to a reality where he’d carry Misha on his back, both of them in combat gear, ready to strike. Misha could be covering Grim’s back easier that way.
“Can I try yours on? It looks cool, but I want to know if that leather isn’t too tight. I’d be scary with my Russian accent. Villains are always British or Russian.”
Grim laughed and stroked Misha’s face, pulling back a few strands of hair. “You’d make them fall to their knees and suck your cock if you spoke to them like that. ”
“Are you saying sucking my cock is torture?” And there he was—the cocky guy Grim missed.
Grim stroked his nose over Misha’s, looking into his big eyes with a warm feeling settling in his stomach. “I don’t know. I only did it once.”
“I wouldn’t want you to suffer again.” Misha pushed on Grim’s solar plexus with his finger.
Grim swallowed hard, inhaling the scent of toothpaste on Misha’s breath. The minty aroma mixed with the warm tang of flesh made Grim’s body hair bristle. “You sure? I keep pissing you off.”
“I’m fucked up. I already told you that. You have to take it or leave it, but if you want me gone, I’m taking the wheelchair. And the gun.”
“And will I get a kiss if I keep all three of you?”
Misha looked a bit skittish all of a sudden. “Yes, but let’s keep it at that, okay? You said it was fine if we took things slow, but you still keep pushing. I don’t like that.”
Grim exhaled his disappointment, but a kiss was something , so he nodded, looking into Misha’s eyes as he licked the seam of his smooth lips. They opened up to him in the sweetest invitation, and Misha closed his eyes.
Grim traced Misha’s jaw with his fingertips and dove in, brushing his mouth over Misha’s sweet flesh, tasting his warmth and the aftertaste of toothpaste as he teased Misha’s tongue. He didn’t expect the way Misha leaned forward, clawing his fingers into Grim’s cut and eagerly opening his mouth. He put his other hand on Grim’s thigh for support, and it was yet another bait for Grim’s senses. Misha would do him in with the push and pull.
Grim nipped on Misha’s lips and eventually kissed his cheek, not wanting to get overly excited now. “You don’t want to use that gun on me yet?”
Misha squinted and leaned back in the wheelchair, looking more confident already with the gun in hand, even if he was holding it wrong. “Not yet.”