12. Mikhail #2
I grind harder against him, needing more friction, more contact, more of everything. His other hand tilts my head to the side so he can kiss me deeper, his tongue pushing into my mouth like he’s trying to consume me whole.
“You drive me crazy,” I groan against his lips.
A sudden pling from his laptop cuts through the moment.
We both go still, pulling apart and sitting up fast. We rush toward the laptop at the same time, and I tug at my boxers to adjust myself while he reaches for the screen.
“Just open it already. The waiting is worse than whatever’s in there.”
He slowly takes the laptop and moves to the couch, his hands shaking slightly. I follow and drop down next to him, close enough that our thighs press together.
He opens the email, and his eyes scan down the page, moving fast like he’s trying to absorb everything at once. I can’t read it properly from this angle until he hands me the screen, looking at me in confusion.
I crack up when I see the results. “Spanish, Portuguese, German, and you ended up with the Russians. That’s wild.”
He hums and immediately starts biting his nails, that anxious habit he can’t break. This doesn’t explain the look Father gets when I ask about Daniil’s background or explain why everyone shuts down the conversation instantly. So, what are they hiding?
Scanning the breakdown again, I read it more carefully this time. One possible living relative match in Germany, an older woman. No living relatives found in Spain or Portugal. The German percentage is high though, way higher than the others.
“Wait, French and West African too? Damn.” I frown at the screen. “That’s a lot of places.”
“I seriously spiraled for two weeks waiting for this?” he says and looks over at me. “I thought I’d find out I was secretly adopted from aliens or something.”
“I mean, that would’ve been easier.” I set the laptop down on the coffee table. “Because this is confusing. None of it explains why Father acts so weird about it.”
“It’s not enough information.” He sighs and runs his hand through his hair. “Nothing lines up. This entire thing just raises more questions.”
“I know. But we’ll find answers. We could ask Yulian and Calder to help us look into it.”
“There’s no way they would do that.”
“They would. I have blackmail material on Yulian,” I say and grin at him.
He scoffs and grumbles something under his breath in Russian about annoying brothers and us always using everything against each other.
“We could look into that living relative in Germany too,” I suggest, the idea forming as I speak. “We could go there and talk to her. Get some actual answers instead of just DNA percentages.”
“To Germany?” He looks skeptical.
“Why not?”
“That’s a long way to go just to talk to someone. I’m just so confused.”
I pull him into my chest, wrapping my arms around him. He melts into me immediately, his body going slack against mine.
“I know. But we’ll find some answers, I promise.” My hand rubs up and down his back slowly. “You should look into that person when we get back home, and then we can come up with more game plans.”
“Yeah, okay,” he murmurs against me. “But we’re still breaking into our father’s office, right?”
“Mm. I’ll distract everyone, and you can sneak upstairs if you want.”
“Thank you.”
“We’ll get some answers. I’m not letting this go.”
He’s quiet for a moment, processing everything.
I don’t really remember anything from before he came to us. I was only three, barely had any memories at all from that time. But those scars covering his body make me see red every time I think about them. Something bad happened to him. Really bad. And someone needs to pay for it.
My hand drifts down to the burn mark on the inside of his thigh, touching it gently. The skin feels different there, raised and smooth. “You don’t remember anything before you came to us?”
“No.”
“Nothing at all?”
He shakes his head where he’s tucked against me.
“Not even feelings or impressions? Like being scared or—”
“Nothing,” he cuts me off, his body tensing slightly. “It’s all just blank until I was like four or five years old.”
My jaw clenches. Someone hurt him when he was barely old enough to walk, let alone remember.
“We’ll figure it out,” I say again, more to convince myself than him. “Once we have answers, we’ll know what to do next.”
“What if the answers are worse than not knowing?”
“Then we deal with it together. Don’t worry.” I tighten my grip on him.
He wraps his hand around my neck and drags me closer, his mouth finding mine. “Make me forget.”
My cock hardens instantly, filling so fast it borders on painful, and I groan into the kiss. Standing up from the couch, I pull him with me, and his legs immediately lock around my waist. I carry him to the bedroom, kissing him the entire way, his tongue sliding against mine.
When I reach the bed, I lower him onto the mattress and climb over him, never breaking the kiss. My hips settle between his thighs, and I deepen the kiss, tasting every inch of his mouth while he moans beneath me.
I move to his neck, biting and sucking at the skin there.
Breaking away just long enough to pull his shirt over his head, I toss it aside and then drag his boxers down his legs frantically, needing him bare beneath me.
My hands grip his ass, and I twist him around so he’s face down on the mattress with his ass on full display.
I can definitely make him forget. Make him not think about anything except my hands and mouth on him until he’s shaking and falling apart. I don’t waste time. I dive in, dragging my tongue over his hole.
He moans into the mattress. “Oh fuck.”
My tongue laps around the tight ring of muscle, circling it slowly before I push inside and feel him clench around me. I spear him with my tongue, pushing deeper, and he gasps.
“Harder,” he breathes, pushing his ass back into my face. “Don’t hold back.”
Pushing my tongue in as far as it’ll go, I swirl it around, feeling him open up slightly for me.
What would it feel like to fuck this tight little hole? To feel him squeeze around my cock instead of my tongue? The thought makes me twitch hard in my boxers, and I grind against the mattress for relief.
I eat him out thoroughly, getting him wet and sloppy, and then bring my finger up and push it in alongside my tongue.
He gasps, a shocked sound tearing out of him, and I pull my tongue back to watch my finger slowly disappear inside him.
I spit on his rim for more lubrication and watch it drip down before pushing my finger deeper, searching.
When I crook it and press against something inside him, his whole body jerks forward.
“Was that my prostate?” he gasps out, his voice breaking. “That felt amazing.”
“Yeah, I think so,” I say, pressing against it again and watching him shudder.
“Do that again. Please.”
I press harder this time, rubbing circles against that spot while my tongue goes back to his rim, licking around where my finger stretches him open.
He moans loudly and pushes back against my face, trying to get more.
I let saliva pool around my finger before adding another one to stretch him wider.
My tongue works his rim, licking and sucking while I fuck him with my fingers.
The combination makes him shake, and I can see his cock leaking steadily onto the sheets below.
I pull my fingers out just enough to spit directly into his gaping hole, watching it slide inside him, then push back in with my tongue following.
Everything’s wetter and messier now as I fuck him with my tongue and fingers, alternating between pressing against his prostate and pushing deep into his hole.
He’s a mess, moaning and grinding back, completely lost in it.
“Your ass is perfect,” I rasp, licking my lips. “I want to fuck you and see you stretched around my cock.”
“Then do it,” he pants, twisting to look back at me over his shoulder. His pupils are blown wide, hazel eyes almost black. “Stop teasing me and fuck me hard.”
“Yeah?” I dive back in, licking around where my finger is buried inside him. My other hand wraps around his cock, and I jerk him slowly, matching the rhythm of my finger. He clenches around me and moans. “You want it hard, Danya?”
“Please, Misha. Stop taking it easy on me.”
Pulling back, I spit again, watching it slide down to his hole, and then thrust in another finger alongside the other two. He moans louder this time and pushes back onto them, fucking himself on my hand. We need actual lube if he wants me to fuck him though.
“I’m going to get us some lube,” I say, sliding my fingers out. He whines as I climb off the bed, the sound needy and impatient. I head into the bathroom and grab the bottle from its hiding spot before turning back toward the bedroom.
When I come back, he’s exactly where I left him, on his hands and knees with his ass up, waiting. He hasn’t moved at all, just stayed there presenting himself for me, and the visual alone nearly makes me come before I even touch him.
Pouring lube onto my fingers, I warm it between them as I kneel on the mattress behind him. He’s already wet and loose from my spit and tongue, his hole still glistening and slightly open. I push two fingers into him slowly, and he gasps, pushing back onto it immediately.
The slide is easy, smoother with the lube, and I add a third finger quickly.
He takes them without resistance, his body already prepped and ready.
I scissor my fingers and add a fourth, stretching him wider and coating his walls with lube.
He moans and rocks back against my hand, fucking himself on my fingers while I work him open.
“I want to be inside you with nothing between us, Danya. No condom. I want to feel all of you.”
“I want that too,” he breathes. “Fuck me, Misha. Stop making me wait.”
Shoving my boxers down, my cock springs free.
We’re actually about to do this.