Chapter 17 Julian
SEVENTEEN
JULIAN
THE PAST
Later that summer
The bedroom is blanketed in darkness when I sneak inside Igor’s bedroom. My eyes barely distinguish the mass on the bed.
I close the door softly behind me, careful when I engage the lock so as not to wake my lover. He’s a very light sleeper. It’s the soldier in him, I think.
Before I can take my next breath, firm hands take hold of my hips and spin me around, pinning me against the wood.
And I’m face to face with the most arresting man I’ve ever met. I grin up at him like a fool.
“Hi, baby.”
It doesn’t matter that we’ve been together for five years, and three weeks—who’s counting that type of thing?
Not me. I just know because it was the night of my eighteenth birthday and my twenty-third was just three weeks ago—it’s always the same rush when he pins me against a hard surface before slanting his mouth on mine as though he’s desperate to taste me again.
And he does just that.
His mouth is hard against mine. I yield to his dominance, opening my mouth and letting him guide me to where he wants me. Pliant, needy, ready to beg. We both get off on it. His tongue is firm as it glides against mine in a sensual caress. I moan into his mouth and he sweeps me off my feet.
My legs wrap around his broad torso, holding on to him. I’d never let him go.
Igor wastes no time to drop me on the bed, where I bounce slightly before he’s on me again, devouring my lips like a man starved.
“What’s happening to you?”
He pauses, withdraws to look down at me.
In the dark room, with barely any light over his sharp features, he looks even more fearsome.
My heart beats wildly in my chest. I’d never fear him, but he looks at me like he’s two seconds from stripping me down to nothing and taking me into his mouth.
I get hard just thinking of all the times we had to rush through it.
Now that I have him all to myself, I’m not ready to just fuck and be done with it.
“I’m not complaining, baby. Just want to say that there’s no rush.”
“Yes, rush. I need to taste you again. I missed you too much,” he says before his mouth shuts me up.
I let him, feeling his hardened cock against me between the layers of denim between us. The friction sends tingles all over my body as Igor grinds against me while divesting me of my tee-shirt, and then, stepping back to pull my jeans and boxers down in one swift swoop.
I groan when his lips close around my cock, expert and warm and so fucking right.
I can’t refuse him anything.
And there’s always later.
All summer. All our lives if we’re brave enough to take the chance. I know I would. It’s up to him now.
Igor gags around my cock but keeps sucking me greedily, bobbing his head up and down, eyes closed in ecstasy like he’s the one receiving, not the one giving.
When he hollows his cheeks and sucks me deeper, I hiss and hold out my breath, squeezing my eyes shut not to come too fast. He’s too good at this.
He’s been playing out with how fast he can make me come with his mouth and I’m not even ashamed to say his record is probably just under two minutes. Looks like he wants to beat it.
His eyes meet mine in the dark, shining with the beam of the moon hitting his face.
“You look so fucking good full of my cock, baby.”
Igor moans around me, a shiver raking his body.
The praise washes over him. I glide my fingers against his scalp, holding onto his hair, delighted when I can feel goosebumps on his neck.
The sound of his pleasure reverberates throughout my body, little flames of intense lust lighting it up from the inside out.
Then, he comes up onto an elbow, squeezing the base of my cock with his free hand.
My head drops back. I’m unable to hold it while submerged with these sensations assaulting me all at once.
Saliva drips down to my sack and in between my cheeks, landing on the mattress below.
It hasn’t escaped my beautiful Russian as I feel a finger against the muscles of my asshole.
I gasp when he slowly breeches in.
“Fuck, I’m going to come.”
I’m only whimpers, and withheld gasps, and soft sighs while Igor continues to worship my cock and stroke my prostate.
Pleasure rises, the wave crushing fast and strong against me, a hand landing on my mouth as I’m about to cry out to the fucking heavens.
I clamp my lips shut and ride out my orgasm, a kaleidoscope of colours bursting behind my closed eyelids.
It goes on for so fucking long and Igor gulps me down so easily. He doesn’t stop when I’m spent, licking my deflating cock and and lapping at my lower belly like he just had the best fucking meal of his life.
When he finally comes up for air, he slithers across my upper body to settle on top of me, chest to chest. I don’t even know when he got rid of his own clothes, but his naked flesh against mine is what coming home truly feels like.
We’re both warm. I’m panting. He’s grinning. Everything’s right in this stupid world.
Igor gives me a peck on the mouth before checking his watch and looking at me like a cat who ate the canary. “I beat our record.”
“Of course you fucking did,” I laugh.
My hand drifts between us to take hold of his very hard, very smooth cock that I can’t stop dreaming about, but he stops me.
I frown. “You don’t want me to take care of it?”
“I do, malysh. But I have something else in mind.”
He turns to the side and lights a bedside lamp.
Igor glances over his shoulder at me. The movement is so unlike him, I sit up, my curiosity definitely piqued.
He opens a drawer in the bedside table and when he turns to me, his eyes are cast down to what he’s holding, his lips pinched in an hesitant smile.
I follow his gaze.
“Oh.”
“I thought you might want to try. With me.”
I lick my lips. I might have come just minutes ago but my cock is very happy with the direction of this evening.
The ropes in his hands are black. I gesture towards them and Igor hands them to me. The hemp is not new, filaments flowing across the long rope. It looks like there’s three or four of them, all neatly packed. But definitely not bought this afternoon.
“You’ve been hiding things from me?” I taunt.
“Of course not. I found out about my… affinity for ropes in a… non traditional manner. And now I want to use it for something better.”
He means he learnt he likes to tie traitors and enemies up but would rather use them on me. For pleasure. I’m on board with that. One hundred percent. After the initial excitement, a wave of jealousy hits me right in the fucking chest. I seize his jaw. His pupils dilate.
“Have you tried this on anyone?”
My frustration is short-lived when he surges forward and reverses our positions. I end up on my back. Again. With his hand on my jaw, holding it like I’m precious and a brat. I guess I’m both.
“Don’t forget who’s in control here, pup. And no, I did not. I tried many knots on myself. I’m confident with a few of them, especially on the legs. Now will you behave, and let me show you? Or do I need to turn your ass red beforehand?”
“Both?”
He hums, dropping his eyes to my cock and licking his lips with hunger.
“We’ll start with the knots. If you’re good, you’ll get the spanking your needy ass so desperately wants.”
I do love a good spanking, so I grin and nod, almost frantic.
Igor kisses me softly, before stepping back and unravelling the hemp ropes. His callous fingers glide on the rough fabric as he touches them, almost reverently.
My lips part as I watch in awe the dexterity needed to make the first knots.
I gulp, knowing he’ll soon bend me in whatever way he wants, tying me into place and making me beg for release.
The cruel pleasure of release after waiting for too long always feels like a redemption I didn’t know I needed.
Before he starts, he gets to the nightstand and pulls a pair of shears, placing them on top, in full view and easily accessible. Then, he comes back to me. Determination and lust pooling in his warm brown eyes.
“May I?”
I nod.
“Words, pup. I need your words.”
“Yes, you can start.”
“When it becomes too much or you feel dizzy or overwhelmed, tell me to stop.
“Do I need a safeword?” I joke to diffuse the tension thickening the air.
“‘Stop’ is your safeword, malysh.”
He caresses my cheek with tenderness that has tears rising into my throat, then begins.
He fashions what almost looks like a corset around my chest. His hands are sure as he laces the ropes around my body, and makes small knots.
His brows are down in concentration, and his tongue peeks out of his mouth sometimes when he doesn’t realise he’s doing it.
It’s intoxicating to watch him work. My skin takes on an almost feverish temperature, and my head gets lightheaded.
“Lean back on your hands and bend your knees as close to your chest as you can,” he commands softly.
As he works the ropes, his eyes roam my body, lingering on places that have me squirming under his heated gaze.
My cock is the most obvious place as it bobs against my stomach, but that’s not even what he focuses on.
My inner thighs, the juncture of my neck and shoulders are his favourite places to bite.
Anticipation has me a writhing mess.
Igor clicks his tongue. “Stay still before I make you.”
His threat gets me harder, my heart pumping blood faster to keep up with the demands of my needy body.
“Maybe that’s what I want.”
“You’re about to get it,” he grumbles and a soft laugh escapes me.
Grumpy Igor for no reason other than me annoying the hell out of him might be my favourite version of the stern, strong man in front of me.
I obey nonetheless. Igor ties my shin and thigh together tightly. The flesh of my legs expands out of the confines of the ropes in a mesmerising pattern. After each new tie, Igor caresses my skin with a featherlight touch, making me crave a rougher handling.
“More,” I beg.
“No.”