Chapter 27 Yulian
YULIAN
Vaughn is mad.
And that gets my rocks off. I’m so fucking hard, it’s not even a joke.
But who am I kidding? I’m always in a state of arousal around this guy. I’ve grown tired of questioning it, and I’m just embracing it now.
Been embracing it since the first time I saw him again in that restaurant, if I’m being completely honest.
And no, it’s not too much in my humble opinion. I’m just apparently attracted to someone who’s totally not my type.
Well, he was the first guy I had a crush on, so that could be the reason behind the madness.
Or the kissing.
God damn, I’m near bursting with lust, because how the fuck does he kiss this well?
A rush of unease spills through me at the thought of others who’ve experienced the feel of his hypnotizing mouth.
Where I’m always impatient, going for the power of it, Vaughn kisses like he walks, talks, and fucks—with control. He forces me to slow down, kissing me into enchantment, licking the inside of my mouth, tasting me.
Bleeding into me.
All I can do is follow his lead, allowing him to swallow me whole.
He flips us around so that my back hits the mattress and he’s on top of me, his fingers in my hair, his knee jammed between my legs so close to my aching cock.
Listen, don’t judge. A week is so long.
And I’m weirdly into the fight for power, surprising myself by how prepared I am to let him do whatever the fuck he wants to me.
“You need to learn how to stop provoking me,” he whispers in hot, raspy words against my lips, his voice dripping with lust and anger.
My favorite combination.
Fuck, I love how grumpy he is. How that precious control of his bursts at the seams the moment he touches me.
“Do I?”
His gaze zeroes in on my mouth as I dart my tongue, licking my lower lip. When he speaks, his voice is rough. “You do.”
“I’ll consider it.”
“This mouth.” A growl rumbles from him before his lips seize mine again.
This time, the kiss is brutal and punishing. He sucks hard at my mouth, biting down on my tongue like he wants to eat me the fuck up.
“Why do you taste like the best thing I’ve ever had?” he grunts, sounding half in awe, half annoyed.
“It’s a superpower,” I’m gasping, my tongue dragging over his lips, while my fingers tear across him—slipping beneath his shirt, tracing the sculpt of his chest, the planes of his back. I touch him everywhere I can.
“Why does it have to be you?” His voice drops to a hushed murmur, more to himself than to me.
“That’s what I’m asking myself as well,” I whisper back.
His eyes flash to mine, plunging deep, so colorful and dark with lust, but the moment passes, and so does the strange look he had.
I’d give anything to be a fly in his brain and know what he thinks.
Vaughn yanks my shirt over my head and flings it away, and I do the same to his, unable to get enough of his body. It’s all sharp lines and symmetry, lean abs tapering into a sculpted waist. Even the moles—one near his navel, another by his chest—only make him more maddeningly perfect.
Are moles even supposed to be beautiful, or am I just too far gone?
Both.
Let’s just go with both.
I get distracted in my watching session, only realizing after a bit that his fingers are hesitantly exploring me, running over my chest, flicking a nipple.
The innocence of it all drives me wild.
I keep forgetting that I’m Vaughn’s first guy—technically his first anything, and no, Danika doesn’t fucking count.
I love how focused he looks. His brows drawn, his lips parted, releasing shallow breaths, and I can feel his growing erection pressing against my thigh.
“Like what you see, baby?” I ask with a grin, then flex, and his eyes follow the movement, his nostrils flaring.
“You’re such an attention whore.”
“Guilty as charged.”
“Is that why you work out and fight? To flex and attract people’s attention?” He unbuttons my jeans, and I help with his, then we both kick our shoes away.
“Maybe,” I say only because I know he won’t like it, and I get off on his reactions a bit too much.
Mostly because he usually doesn’t have any reaction.
I’ve seen him with his friends, with Danika—gag—and even seen pictures of him at events and parties. Vaughn is the definition of mechanical.
Too precise.
Too proper.
His face is a mask devoid of expression.
So I feel a sort of superpower when I drag out his anger, lust, and possessiveness.
Oh, and petty jealousy. He has that in spades.
“What did you just say?” He narrows his eyes as we both slip out of our pants and boxers, kicking them on the ground.
We’re chest to chest, fully naked, only surrounded by the silky sheet that he’ll totally throw a fit about being covered with cum later.
My chest thuds, and my balls hum at the feeling of his erection rubbing against my thigh. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the sensation of his warm flesh pressed against mine.
Or the knowledge that he wants me as much as I want him.
Just kidding, I totally will. But I don’t believe I’ll ever view it as normal, because, fuck me all the way to hell, I never really liked just holding my fuck buddies.
With them, it was only physical. Wham, bam, and thank you very much, ma’am. But with Vaughn, the weight of his body flush against mine sends a thrill racing through me. It’s addictive.
And intense.
I’m already mourning the fact that I can’t have him like this every day.
Fuck distance. I don’t believe in that shit.
“I said maybe.” I feign innocence. “What can I say? I love the attention—mmmfuck!”
My words end on a moan because he’s cupping me and his low, growly voice rushes close to my lips. “My attention is the only attention you’ll crave, Volchonok. Are we fucking clear?”
Yes, sir.
I bite my tongue before I can say that, because what the fuck? Why do I love his possessive dominant streak a bit too much? The little fuck is a year younger than me, damn it. It should be insulting.
“From now on, I’m the only one who gets to touch you.” He squeezes my cock, and I thrust my hips, chasing the burn, but he just shoves me back down with his grip. “Say yes.”
“Mmm, I’ll think about it.”
“Yulian…”
“Yes, baby?”
“You’re doing that on purpose, aren’t you?”
“Maybe.” I grin, and it ends up in a moan, because he’s licking a trail down the center of my chest, and my mouth is watering, my dick throbbing like crazy in his hand.
“Or maybe you just love being used…” He trails off, his hazel eyes flashing toward me. “Your dick is surely performing a standing ovation for me, making a fucking mess as usual.”
Yup, that tracks. Precum is already coating the tip and dripping into his hand as he jerks me, lubing me up with that delicious control.
“You like it.” I thrust powerfully, pushing my hips forward.
“What was that?” His words are muffled because he’s kissing and licking my chest, nipples, and abs, he’s biting on the tattoo and sucking the skin around it over and over, and I’m surprised I don’t come from the sensation.
My balls draw up, strung tight, every nerve raw as his touch makes me feel worshiped. His lips are soft, his hands merciless—one grips my hip, the other rubs me with violent urgency, only to turn achingly gentle the next second, snapping my nerves like whiplash.
“You love that I’m so hot and bothered for you,” I pant, yanking at his hair. “It makes you horny.”
He huffs a chuckle that vibrates against my nipple. “You make me horny, you goddamn idiot.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you. Why do you think I keep coming back? Something about you, Volchonok…”
I’m listening with bated breath, but he doesn’t continue, just trails his lips lower, sucking on my abs, biting viciously, and I flex, which makes him bite harder.
Fuck. This violent asshole is my own brand of crazy. I love the tinge of pain, the way he squeezes me so roughly.
“Something about you…” he repeats, this time biting and sucking along the lines of my V, lingering there far too long.
“Are you giving me hickeys?” A chuckle escapes me, darkened by lust at the scrape of his teeth and the drag of his tongue.
“What if I am?”
“Mm, want to mark me, baby?”
“If anyone sees you, they’ll know you’re taken.” His eyes rage a darker color, almost brown, as he releases my cock and grabs my hips.
“They’ll go away in a few days…” My breath hitches on the last word because his lips are so close to my cock, glistening wet from all the marks he’s left on my chest and abs.
“Then I’ll leave new ones.” A rough sound rumbles from his chest as he sucks the tip of my cock into his mouth.
Vaughn’s lips are on my cock.
Not the first time, but it definitely feels like it. During the sixty-nine galore, I was also giving him head, and he was following my lead.
This time, he’s taking the initiative to have my cock in his mouth.
The first cock he’s ever had in his mouth.
The only cock he’ll have in his mouth.
I nearly come to that thought. Fuck me all the way to hell, this feels otherworldly.
“Deeper,” I grunt, holding his head. “Take me deeper, and use your saliva as lube.”
He lets his mouth water down on my cock, following the instructions like a very good boy while watching me the whole time. Once he bathes my cock with his saliva, he licks the underside, then sucks on the crown again, rougher this time, nearly exorcising my soul from my body.
“Mm, fuck! Your mouth feels so fucking good, Mishka.”
“Yeah?” he whispers against my cock as it flops against his mouth, the purple veins throbbing, demanding access into that wet heat again. “How rough do you like it, Yulian?”
“As rough as you want, baby.”
“Mmm,” he hums, obviously liking that answer as he sucks harder, taking me halfway in, his eyes staying square on mine.
My fingers dig into the bedsheets. This is obviously torture.
“Holy fuck, more, baby… I need more.”
“Hands in my hair,” he says as he pulls me out. “Don’t touch the bed. Touch me.”
He doesn’t have to say it twice—my fingers are already tangled in his smooth hair, pushing him lower. His moan vibrates against my cock, sending a shock wave through me.