Chapter 21 #2
I drop my gaze to my crotch. Slowly, giving him time to catch up, I unzip my dark tactical pants and step out of them. I remove the warm cotton long-sleeve tee-shirt. And end with my boxers. Bare in front of the man I tried so hard to forget, and protect.
His eyes widen as he takes in the piercing on the head of my cock, his lips parting in awe. A light blush livens up his face, my tender Jules in front of me replacing the stern soldier he showed outside these pre-fabricated walls.
“I never stopped wearing my wedding band, Julian. And now I’m going to show you what I can do to you with it.”
I fist his shirt and slam his mouth to mine, just like he did with me at the docks. And just like it was then, the contact sends my body on overdrive. I’m touch-starved, love-starved, broken and wretched, but with Julian’s lips on mine, I can forget. For a time. One last time.
He moves against me, grinding his clothed body against my naked one, the friction of the fabric almost too much after so many years.
“Get naked before I embarrass myself,” I breathe against his mouth, then tangle my tongue with his, revelling in the delicious warmth of his mouth and the firmness of his kiss.
It’s different than it used to. Where the boy I fell for was soft and pliant, I’m met with resistance, a true battle of dominance between our heated bodies.
Yet, he listens and starts fumbling with the layers of cotton and wool and polyester, removing everything in a hurry.
I sigh when his chest meets mine, moaning into his mouth as he groans.
I burn, skin feverish.
Instincts take over, my mind left in a place where nothing exists.
Not my past, not my future. We’re not in this truck, we’re not in Russia.
We’re just together, sharing a passion that built over years of trust, careful teasing, and thoughtful gifts.
I close my eyes and retreat further into my own mind.
Into the dreams my mind conjured when I first returned to Russia.
The images behind my eyelids are safe. I’m not sure reality is.
His long fingers roam my body, grab my sides, my pecs, my ass, bruising and demanding.
Julian drops to his knees, taking my piercing into his mouth in a reverent kiss. He tongues the tip of my cock, shuffling around the jewellery like he can’t get enough of it, like it’s his communion and his salvation.
When he takes me deeper into his throat, I slam my hand over my mouth not to wake the whole damn crew up. Julian swallows around the head, around the wedding band. I blink my eyes open, only to be ensnared by the baby blues. And close them again, not ready to be pinned by his stare.
One last time.
One last time before I take my last breath tomorrow. It has to be enough.
I could have lived a thousand lives with Julian Bartoli and never get enough.
I caress his cheek as he continues to suck me off. The urgency in every suck, and every lick threatens to have my knees buckle. I’m the one who should be on my knees for him.
“Get up. I need to get inside you.”
He crawls onto the bed.
“No. Get on your back, I need to see you when I get my cock inside you. Posledniy raz.” One last time. “I’ll use that pretty ring you got me to marry you with in your tight little ass. That what you need, right?”
“Yes, yes, please baby.”
I spit into my hand, rubbing our cock together.
Julian throws his head back and I bite down his corded neck, licking the sting, tasting the salt of his skin.
Our movements are frantic. I spit some more.
It’s fast and hard, and untethered. Our bodily fluids mix until all I can smell is that sweet cologne he loves and the scent of sex mingling in the air.
Spit dribbles down Julian’s ass cheeks, to the covers underneath us. I rim his puckered hole with a finger, breaching the tight ring of muscle slowly, then adding two more fingers until he’s a writhing mess underneath me.
“Do you have lube, by any chance?” I ask, a little self-conscious.
“Night stand.”
I shake my head. “Always so prepared.”
Julian’s smile is bashful and unashamed, as it should be. I kiss him as I lather lube onto my cock and my fingers, massaging him again until he begs me to fuck him.
It’s the same chant from years ago. I’m transported to an easier time. And I wish I could stay there.
I want to be careful and take my time, but the hourglass is about to give off the last grain of sand. And I can’t waste it. I position myself at his entrance.
Julian gasps. “It’s… strange.”
I pause.
“Tell me when you’re ready.”
He nods.
I shake my head. “Use your words. Tell me I can fuck you. I need you to say it.”
“I’m scared you’re going to split me in half,” he says but his little smirk reminds me that behind all the hurt, Julian’s still the little trickster he used to be, who loves a rough hand and just needs to be talked through it.
I give it to him. No matter what happens to me, there will always be a part of me that can never refuse Julian Bartoli, even if I know I should.
“You’re going to take it like a good boy, though, aren’t you?”
“Oh fuck.”
“Yes. You’re going to take your husband’s cock, and that piercing I kept a secret, and you’re going to thank me for it.”
“Yes, please fuck me.”
I thrust inside him slowly, withdrawing and pressing back in again. Until I’m fully seated and my pelvis makes contact with the round cheeks of his ass.
I pause, my forehead dropping between to his chest, where his heart thrums against my mouth.
Suspended in time, I kiss the soft skin there, bare of any hair.
He smells like home. He smells like mine.
In another life, I’ll get to keep him. I seal my vow with another solemn kiss.
And I lose myself in this pleasure I’ve only ever known with him.
If it’s the last time, I want to make it good for him.
I fuck him deep and slow, sealing our mouths, breathing the same air, sharing our moans and whispered curses.
Between us, his hardened shaft throbs with need. I take it in hand without looking away from the eyes that haunted me relentlessly. I’ll take them with me when I make it to the other side.
“Igor.”
Julian murmurs my name between kisses.
“I know, malysh. I know.”
“I’ve missed you so much. I’ve missed you. I love you.”
So many times, he repeats the words as he brings his lips to my cheeks, my temples, my neck, anywhere he can reach while I continue to thrust in and out of him. Pleasure pulses at the base of my spine, in tandem with where I’m gripping him hard.
“Make us come, husband.”
The command is soft and sweet. I obey, all too glad to bring us to the edge with sharp strokes that have us both panting, ready for release.
“Are you gonna come with me?”
He nods, whimpers, and comes over my hand while I follow, seated deep inside him. I hope he’ll feel me for days. A reminder of me when I’m gone.
On shaky legs, I make it to the adjacent washroom in two steps and retrieve a washcloth. I slide it across his limbs, reacquainting myself with the man I never thought I’d see again. One last indulgence before the end.
And I fall asleep in his arms, dreaming of a life I’ll never have.