Chapter 12
Teddy
I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, heart still racing even though my body feels heavy and warm.
The sheets are tangled around my legs, and every time I shift, a fresh wave of memory washes over me—Kirill’s weight pressing me into the rug, the way he filled me so completely, the deep groan he made when he came inside me.
My skin is still glowing from it. My ass feels tender, used, yet I cannot stop replaying every second.
It was magical. Raw. Overwhelming.
I have never felt anything like it. Not even close.
Normally after an intense orgasm I would be out cold, drifting off with a silly smile on my face. Tonight my mind refuses to slow down. It keeps spinning—the heat of his body, the way he growled, the electric spark when our eyes met afterward.
I am way beyond horny. Satisfied to my bones, yet aching for more at the same time. My cock still tingles every time I think about how he claimed me right there on the floor.
I roll onto my side, hug Brando tight against my chest, and try counting backward from one hundred.
It does not work. I try deep breathing. Still nothing.
My thoughts keep circling back to Kirill—his strong hands, his commanding voice, the way he looked at me like I belonged to him. And I mean really belonged.
With a frustrated little huff, I reach over and flick on the small night light beside my bed. Soft pink light fills the room. Brando’s dark button eyes seem to watch me with quiet understanding. I smile at him and pull my sketch pad and a handful of felt-tip pens from the drawer.
“Come on, Brando,” I whisper, propping myself up against the pillows. “Let’s draw something silly.”
I start with simple lines. Me with my hair in a crazy cartoon style, wearing my lemon-yellow training top.
Then Kirill, tall and broad-shouldered, slick and serious but secretly hinting at a warm expression.
I give him a tiny smile because I know it is there, even if he tries to hide it.
Finally Brando, looking proud on his little bicycle with floppy ears streaming behind him like ribbons.
I draw all three of us riding bicycles side by side, zooming over a bright, arching rainbow.
The sky is blue with fluffy clouds, and little hearts float around us.
It is completely ridiculous and childish, but that is exactly why it feels good.
My hand moves faster, adding sparkles and stars and a tiny speech bubble above Brando that says “Wheeee!”
A soft chuckle escapes me.
The whirring in my head slows down.
Coloring has always been my secret calm-down trick when Little space calls but I am too wound up to fully drop.
Brando sits tucked against my hip, watching me work.
The felt tips make bright, cheerful streaks across the paper, and for a little while the heavy, aching need in my body fades into something lighter and sweeter.
“I guess I might be a little tired,” I mumble, the words coming out slowly.
Suddenly my eyelids grow heavy. The sketch pad slips from my fingers onto the blanket. I barely have time to switch off the night light before sleep pulls me under, the image of the three of us riding over the rainbow lingering behind my eyes.
Me, Brando, and Daddy…
* * *
Morning light filters through the blinds, soft and golden. My first thought, before I even open my eyes fully, is of Kirill.
The memory hits me like a warm wave. The way he moved inside me, the deep sound of his voice, the possessive way he held me afterward. I squeeze my thighs together and let out a shaky breath. My body is still tuned in, still remembering every sensation.
“I really shouldn’t…” I giggle, a hint of wild abandon in my voice as I giggle excitedly. “Or should I?”
I reach into the drawer beside my bed and pull out my dildo—smooth, realistic, a little thicker than average—and my small bullet vibrator.
Heat floods my cheeks.
I feel very naughty, but I cannot stop myself.
I know what I want and I’m going to get it right here and now.
Closing my eyes, I bring the dildo to my lips and slide it into my mouth, sucking gently while I click the vibrator on.
The low buzz fills the quiet room. I trail the vibrating tip slowly down my neck, further down, circling my nipples until they tighten.
Then lower, teasing over my stomach until I press it against my already hard cock.
“Oh…” I moan softly around the dildo. “Daddy…”
In my mind it is not silicone anymore. It is Kirill—thick, hot, commanding. I imagine him standing over me, watching with those intense eyes while I suck him. The vibrator presses harder against my cock and balls in alternate movements and I whimper, hips bucking and thrusting.
I picture Daddy fucking me on the floor again, growling Mine as he fills me completely and makes my body shake and spasm to his every thrust.
The fantasy is so vivid I can almost feel his hands pinning my wrists, his weight pressing me down.
The vibrator hums relentlessly. My breathing quickens.
Within minutes the pleasure coils tight and snaps.
I cum hard, my legs stiffening, a muffled cry escaping around the dildo as waves of pleasure pulse through me and I shoot my load all over the bed sheets.
“Fucccccckkkk,” I moan, the dildo falling out of my mouth as I writhe and buck my hips in delight.
I keep going, getting every moment I can out of this early morning fun. When the orgasm fades, I stare at the ceiling, breathing heavily. I glance over at Brando, who is sitting on the pillow beside me, looking as innocent as ever.
I let out a little embarrassed chuckle. “Oh my God, Brando… what am I doing?”
I almost cannot believe how crazy I am acting.
A week ago I was a normal boy with a normal crush.
Now I am lying in bed first thing in the morning, sucking on a dildo while fantasizing about a dangerous older man who spanked me in a gym locker room and then fucked me senseless on my living room floor.
Now that’s an improv that’s not even remotely believable. Except for the fact that it has all actually happened.
But then again… Kirill is like no other man I have ever met. The way he commands a room without raising his voice. The way he makes me feel small and safe and wildly turned on all at once. The way he looked at me like I was something precious even while he was claiming me so roughly.
I shake my head, still smiling, and tuck the toys away. “You’re turning me into such a naughty Little, Kirill Antonov,” I whisper to the empty room.
* * *
Later, I arrive at my acting class with flushed cheeks and a secret glow I hope no one notices. Skeet is already there, sitting on the edge of the stage swinging his legs. The moment he sees me, his eyes light up with pure mischief.
“Spill,” he demands, grabbing my arm and pulling me into a quiet corner before class starts. “You have that look. The ‘I did something bad and I loved it’ look. Tell me everything about last night.”
I bite my lip, glancing around to make sure no one else is close enough to hear.
Then the words tumble out in an excited ramble—the improv show, Marcus Hale showing up, the kiss with Kirill, sneaking into the alley, dropping to my knees and spanking myself while I pleasured him, the way he tasted, the way he called me a good boy and commanded that I pleasure myself too.
Skeet’s eyes grow wider and wider as I continue.
When I finish, my Little friend lets out a delighted squeal and hugs me tight.
“Oh my God, Teddy!” Skeet squeals, struggling to contain his delight. “You sucked him off in an alley after your show? While spanking yourself? And then jacked yourself off for his amusement? That is so hot and so naughty! I’m proud of you, babyboy.”
I laugh, cheeks burning. “It felt insane. Like… I’ve never done anything that reckless before. But with him it just felt right. He makes me feel so small and wanted at the same time.”
Skeet leans in closer, grinning. “Okay, but tell me more about him. What does he actually do? Is he rich-rich? Does he have some mysterious criminal vibe or what? Like, not to be judgmental but we all know the kind of thing that goes down in this city. You keep saying he’s intense, but like… give me details!”
I open my mouth to answer and then freeze.
I realize with a sudden, uncomfortable jolt that I know almost nothing about Kirill’s actual life.
I know he is older, powerful, and commands respect without trying. I know he has a nephew he cares about enough to hire me personally. I know he has connections that can get a producer to show up at my show on short notice.
But beyond that?
His job, his family, where he lives most of the time, what he does every day—it is all a blank.
A flicker of worry settles in my stomach. Kirill is clearly involved in something serious. The way people react to him, the security, the way Bobby shuts down when asked about “family business”. It all points to something dangerous.
Skeet notices my hesitation. “Hey, you okay?”
I force a smile and dust myself down, smoothing my top. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just… realized I don’t actually know that much about his day-to-day life yet. He’s very… private.”
Skeet gives me a knowing look but doesn’t push. “Well, be careful, okay? Hot mysterious older guys are fun until they’re not. But also… enjoy it while it lasts. You’re glowing, babe.”
I nod, pushing the worry aside as the rest of the class starts filtering in. Dermott claps his hands, calling us to attention. I straighten my shoulders, take a deep breath, and step into the familiar rhythm of warm-ups and scene work.
Whatever Kirill is hiding, whatever world he comes from, I will deal with it when the time comes.
For now, I have lines to learn, characters to build, and a future that suddenly feels brighter than it did yesterday.
Even if a part of me is already counting the hours until I see him again.