7. Daniil #2
“I know.” My throat feels tight, words struggling to form. “It’s not about that.”
“Then what’s it about?” His thumbs rub circles on my arms, probably without him even realizing he’s doing it. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Because you’re the reason I know.
“I just didn’t know how to bring it up.”
“We tell each other everything. Or at least I thought we did.” The hurt in his voice is unmistakable, cutting through me like a knife.
“We do.”
“Apparently not. Is that why you’ve been avoiding me? Because you thought I’d be weird about you liking men?”
“No. That’s not why.”
He stares at me. “You need to be careful. You know what happened with Alexei and our father. He’s not going to let it slide if you do the same thing.”
“I know,” I say, swallowing against the tightness in my throat.
He shoots me this look, and I’m so screwed. Because he’s so worried, and I can’t tell him the whole thing without ruining us. He’s hurt, I can see it written all over his face. He always takes care of everyone else, always puts himself last, and right now he just wants to know why I’m pulling away.
I wish I could give him better answers. I wish I could explain that it’s not him, it’s me, it’s this thing I’ve been carrying for eight years that I can’t let out. But saying it out loud would ruin everything, and I’d rather suffer in silence than lose him completely.
“Kelly said maybe you wanted a girlfriend and I thought maybe you’d found someone and were keeping it from me, but now you’re saying you like men and I just don’t understand what’s happening.”
“Kelly doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”
“Then explain it to me. Please, Danya. Just tell me what’s going on because this is killing me.”
“It’s complicated.”
“Complicated how? I want to fix this.” His eyes search my face desperately.
“We can’t fix this.”
“Why not?”
I shake my head, unable to force the words out.
He sees it happening, and his expression shifts from frustrated to concerned.
“Okay. Okay, it’s fine. You don’t have to say it right now.
” He pulls me back against his chest, arms wrapping around me tightly.
“But eventually you need to talk to me, Danya. Because this distance thing isn’t working for either of us. ”
I press my face against him and try to breathe through the tightness. His heart beats steady under my ear, and his hand rubs slow circles on my back.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he murmurs into my hair. “Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out. We always do.”
Except we won’t.
Turning around, I face away from him and settle into the mattress.
He wraps his arms around me immediately, his bicep sliding under my head like a pillow, his other hand coming up to my mouth with the joint still burning between his fingers.
I part my lips, and he pushes it gently between them.
The smoke fills my lungs, and I hold it for a moment before exhaling slowly into the dim room.
He takes another hit, his chest expanding against my back, then twists slightly to stub the joint out in the ashtray on the nightstand. When he settles back down, he wraps himself completely around me, cocooning me in warmth.
“What’s the appeal? With guys, I mean.”
Heat crawls up my neck, and I clear my throat. “Just the way they are. Taller. Broader. The size difference.”
“Size difference?”
The words slip out. “How much bigger they are. How solid they feel.”
There’s a beat of silence. “So like, do you think about what it would be like? Hooking up with a guy?”
My face is burning. “Can we please stop talking about this?”
“No, wait, I’m actually curious.” His voice shifts, suddenly serious. “Like would you want to be the one getting fucked?”
I want to die. “Yeah.”
He goes quiet for a moment, and when he speaks again, his voice sounds almost aggressive. “You’re not hooking up with anyone.”
My heart stutters. “What?”
“Nothing.” His arms lock tighter around me. “Don’t worry about it.”
I nod, and then my hand drifts down to cover his where it rests against my stomach.
My fingers start tracing the veins on the back of his hand, following the raised lines slowly from his wrist up toward his knuckles.
The skin is warm and slightly rough, from fighting and lifting weights.
I trace each vein carefully, then move to his fingernails, running my fingertip along the edges before trailing back up again.
His breathing slows behind me, becoming deeper and more rhythmic. The rise and fall of his chest against my back turns steady and measured. A moment later his mouth parts and soft snores hit the back of my neck, warm breath ghosting across my skin in gentle pulses.
You’d need some sort of tranquilizer to get him to stay this still, like a strong one. Normally he’s restless even in sleep, twitching and shifting and mumbling.
So he probably took benzos after his shower. Makes sense. That combined with the weed and whatever binge he went on yesterday has left him exhausted, his body finally shutting down to recover.
The sun dips lower outside my window, casting everything in long shadows that stretch across the walls. Orange light filters through the curtains and paints the room in shades of amber and gold. I let my eyes drift shut.
When I come to again, everything’s dark.
The sun has fully set, and the room is bathed in shadows, only the faint glow from the city filtering in through the window.
His arms are still wrapped around me, grip just as tight as before, his lips pressed against the back of my head like he moved there in his sleep.
I adjust slightly, trying to get more comfortable, and he stirs behind me. His arms tighten reflexively, pulling me closer. “You’re still here?” His voice is rough and sleep-heavy, barely more than a murmur against my hair.
“Mm.”
“Thank you,” he whispers. His breathing is still heavy like he’s hovering somewhere between sleep and consciousness, not fully awake but aware enough to know I’m there.
His mouth brushes my ear, warm breath ghosting across my skin, and my entire body locks up. I tilt my head back, chasing the contact. His lips skim across my jaw, missing my cheek entirely and brushing against my lips instead.
We freeze.
His breath stutters against my skin, and my heart slams so hard against my ribs I think it might crack them.
The air between us feels charged, electric. Every nerve in my body is screaming at me to move, to close the gap, to stop pretending this isn’t what I want.
Then I turn in his arms, until we’re face to face in the darkness. His eyes are half-lidded, pupils blown so wide they’ve nearly swallowed the blue completely. The streetlight from the window catches the edge of his face, illuminating the sharp line of his jaw, the way his lips are parted slightly.
His lips crash against mine out of nowhere, and everything in my head goes silent. It’s nothing like I imagined because it’s so much better, so much more intense that my entire body feels like it’s burning from the inside out.
I kiss him back frantically, clumsy and desperate, not knowing what I’m doing but needing it anyway.
My hands find his shoulders, and I grip hard, nails digging into his skin like I’m trying to anchor myself to something solid.
His hand slides up to cradle my jaw, fingers spreading across my cheek, angling my head exactly how he wants it.
I let him take control because I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, and I don’t care.
All I know is that I need more of this, more of him.
His tongue traces my bottom lip slowly, deliberately, and I part for him instantly.
The first slide of his tongue against mine sends electricity straight down my spine and settles hot and heavy in my gut.
He tastes sweet and something addictive that makes me want to crawl inside him and never leave.
His tongue explores my mouth thoroughly, stroking against mine in a rhythm that makes my cock throb painfully in my boxers.
He deepens the kiss, threading his fingers through my hair and gripping tight.
The sting makes me gasp, and he swallows the sound, kissing me harder, fiercer, like he’s trying to devour me.
His tongue slides deeper, claiming every inch of my mouth, and I respond desperately, trying to give him everything.
His other hand slides down my back to grip my hip, fingers digging into bone hard enough to bruise, and he drags me flush against him until there’s no space left between us.
The heat of his body pressed against mine is overwhelming.
I can feel every muscle, every line of him, and my cock is so hard it’s painful.
The friction of it rubbing against my boxers with every movement sends waves of sensation through me that border on too much.
When I suck on his tongue experimentally, he makes this noise, halfway between a groan and a moan, and suddenly he’s rolling us.