Chapter Nine #2
I leaned down to capture his mouth again, swallowing his moans as I worked a third finger into him. He writhed against my hand, his own hands gripping my shoulders hard enough to leave marks. More little electrical pulses danced across my skin where he touched me, heightening every sensation.
"Now," he demanded against my lips. "I need you now."
I withdrew my fingers, using the slickness still coating them to stroke my cock. The sight of Mishka spread out beneath me, flushed and wanting, was almost enough to undo me. I positioned myself at his entrance, the blunt head of my cock pressing against him.
"Tell me what you want, malysh," I murmured, needing to hear him say it.
"You," he gasped, his legs wrapping around my waist, urging me closer. "Inside me. Now."
I pushed forward, breaching him slowly, watching his face for any sign of discomfort, but there was only pleasure in his expression as I seated myself fully inside him, his tight heat enveloping me completely. I had to pause, overwhelmed by the sensation and the sight of him taking me so perfectly.
"Move," he urged, his heels digging into my lower back.
I began to thrust, setting a rhythm that had him moaning beneath me. His hands roamed across my chest, leaving trails of tingling electricity in their wake. Each touch heightened my pleasure, pushing me closer to the edge.
"Harder," Mishka demanded, his voice breaking on a particularly deep thrust. "Fuck me harder, Nicolai."
I complied without hesitation, driving into him with increasing force. The sounds he made—little gasps and broken moans—fueled my desire, pushing me to give him exactly what he asked for.
The sofa creaked beneath us, the only other sound in the room besides our labored breathing and the slap of skin against skin. I shifted my angle, hitting that spot inside him that made his back bow and a cry tear from his throat.
"There," he gasped. "Right there."
I maintained the position, driving into him relentlessly as his cries grew louder, his body tightening around me. I wrapped my hand around his neglected cock, stroking in time with my thrusts, determined to watch him fall apart before I allowed myself release.
Mishka came with a cry loud enough to alert every security guard on this floor, his body clenching around me as he spilled over my fist and onto his stomach.
The sight of him coming undone—head thrown back, throat exposed, eyes clenched shut in ecstasy—pushed me over the edge. I growled his name as I thrust deep one final time, my release hitting me like a physical blow as I emptied myself inside him.
For a moment, the world narrowed to just this—the feeling of his body around mine, the sound of our labored breathing, and the lingering electricity dancing across my skin.
I collapsed beside him, managing to avoid crushing him only by bracing myself at the last moment. The sofa was hardly ideal for two grown men—one of us significantly larger than average—but neither of us seemed inclined to move.
Mishka shifted to accommodate me, tucking himself against my side as naturally as if we'd been doing this for years instead of days. My fingers traced idle patterns on his sweat-slicked skin as our breathing gradually returned to normal.
A sense of satisfaction—deeper than mere physical release—settled in my chest. My bear, normally restless after such intense activity, felt unusually calm.
"The lights are still on," I observed, glancing around the room. "And the security system seems intact."
After our first encounter, we'd blown half the electronics in my penthouse, including the supposedly impenetrable security system.
Yuri had been apoplectic, convinced we were under some kind of attack.
The explanation—that Mishka's abilities tended to surge during intense pleasure—had not improved his mood.
Mishka's laugh was soft against my chest. "I'm learning control."
"Impressive." I pressed a kiss to the top of his head, inhaling the scent of his hair.
"Well..." He traced a finger down my chest, leaving a tingling trail in its wake. "I didn't say perfect control. I may have accidentally turned on all the TVs in the building to the same porn channel."
I blinked, processing his words. "You did what?"
"Just for a minute!" he defended, propping himself up to look at me with those too-innocent blue eyes. "I think I fixed it before anyone noticed. Probably."
The image was too absurd—every television in my heavily secured building suddenly broadcasting pornography, likely the high-end kind I kept locked in a special server—and I couldn't help myself. Laughter, genuine and unrestrained, bubbled up from my chest.
Mishka stared at me with wide eyes, clearly surprised by my reaction. "You're... laughing."
"An astute observation." I managed between chuckles, pulling him back down against me.
"I don't think I've heard you really laugh before," he mused, pressing his palm flat against my chest as if trying to feel the vibrations. "It's nice."
The simple statement shouldn't have affected me as much as it did. I'd been called many things in my long life—powerful, dangerous, ruthless—but "nice" had never been among them.
"Yuri's probably having an aneurysm right now," I said, changing the subject from the unfamiliar territory of personal compliments.
Mishka snorted. "Poor Watchdog. First I invade your territory, then I monopolize your time, now I'm broadcasting porn throughout your stronghold. I'm surprised he hasn't tried to eliminate me yet."
"He would never act without my orders." The statement came automatically, but I realized as I said it that I meant it as reassurance. I didn't want Mishka to fear Yuri or anyone in my organization. The need to ensure he felt safe was becoming a priority I hadn't anticipated.
"Besides," I added, "he's too practical. Your abilities are too valuable."
"Ah, good to know my usefulness outweighs my annoyance factor." There was no real hurt in his tone—just that dry humor that seemed to be his default.
"I'm sure the excellent health coverage is a perk of working for a crime syndicate, too," he continued, idly tracing patterns on my chest. "Does Yuri have one of those stress balls? He seems like he needs one… or ten."
I laughed again, softer this time. "I'll suggest it at our next meeting."
We lapsed into comfortable silence, our bodies cooling in the aftermath of our passion. I should have been getting up, checking in with security, reviewing the day's reports. Instead, I found myself perfectly content to lay there, Mishka's weight warm and solid against me.
My bear, normally so territorial and restless, felt settled in a way I couldn't remember experiencing before. There was a rightness to this moment that both satisfied and terrified me.
This wasn't just about protecting an asset anymore. It wasn't even about indulging a passing physical desire. Somewhere between offering Mishka sanctuary and this moment, something fundamental had changed.
I'd lived for over a century, had taken lovers of both genders, had experienced passion and even what I'd thought was love. None of it had prepared me for the ferocity of what I felt for this young man with his quick wit and dangerous abilities.
I was in dangerous territory. I, who prided myself on control and calculation, was being guided by something much more primal and unpredictable than reason.
My bear recognized it first—this wasn't just desire or possession. It was something deeper, something with far greater potential for both pleasure and pain.
I should have been concerned. I should have been planning how to regain my emotional distance, how to remember that Mishka was a temporary complication in my otherwise orderly existence.
Instead, with his warm weight against me and his breath steady against my skin, I found I didn't particularly care about the danger anymore.