12. Mikhail #3
There’s no taking it back, no pretending after, and the need for it burns through me stronger than anything I’ve felt before. I ache to have him in every way possible, to know what he feels like around me, to make him mine in a way that can’t be undone.
I grip my cock and line myself up with his hole, and he pushes back onto me before I can even move. I start sinking into him slowly, and the tight ring of muscle makes me close my eyes and groan.
He’s so tight, his hole squeezing me so hard it feels like it might break my cock in half. The heat is overwhelming, wet and perfect, and I have to force myself to go slow.
“You are so tight,” I say, groaning.
He moans, and his hands clasp into the sheets, pulling them tight. I pull out and add more lube, then push back in. It’s easier this time, and when I finally bottom out completely, he gasps and his whole body trembles.
“Wait,” he chokes out, breathless. “Give me a second.”
My hands clamp down on his waist, and I close my eyes, biting the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste blood. His hole is warm and tight, swallowing my cock whole, and every breath he takes makes him clench around me. I’m trying so hard not to move, to give him time to adjust, but it’s torture.
He starts pushing back experimentally, testing it, and then looks over his shoulder at me. His hazel eyes are dark and demanding. “Wreck me. I don’t want gentle. I want you to fuck me like you mean it.”
My brain goes blank for a second because hearing him say it like that, so blunt and hungry, nearly makes me come on the spot. “You sure?”
“Stop asking and do it,” he demands, pushing back harder onto my cock. “I want it rough and to feel it tomorrow.”
Pulling out slowly, I thrust back in, and he moans so loud it echoes off the walls.
I set a steady rhythm, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in, and the room fills with the sound of skin slapping against skin.
His hole grips me with every thrust, and I can feel him opening up for me, taking me deeper.
“Does it feel good to have me inside you, Danya? Is this what you needed?”
“Yes,” he gasps, his voice breaking. “Harder.”
Losing every shred of control I have left, I start slamming into him, my hips snapping forward so hard the headboard bangs against the wall with every thrust.
My fingers dig into his waist so tight I see red marks already forming, and I know they’ll bruise dark by tomorrow, leaving evidence of what we did all over his skin.
The drag of his walls around my cock is perfect, the wet heat pulling me in deeper with every stroke. He’s so tight it borders on painful, but I can’t get enough.
This is what I’ve wanted for so long without letting myself acknowledge it.
Every time I crawled into his bed at night, every time I pulled him close, every time I convinced myself it was just because we’re brothers. Bullshit. This is what I needed all along. Him underneath me, taking everything I give him, opening up for me in a way he never does for anyone else.
I pull out, and he makes this devastated sound that goes straight to my cock. I grip his waist and flip him onto his back so I can see his face, needing to watch him come undone. His hazel eyes look up at me in pure bliss, glazed and unfocused, pupils blown so wide there’s barely any color left.
He groans, and his hands immediately go down to his cock to jerk himself. The sight makes my mouth water. His cock is pink and swollen, wet at the tip, precum leaking out in thick strings that drip onto his stomach and catch the light.
I push his legs up toward his chest, spreading him wide and completely open for me.
The angle lets me see everything, his hole stretched and slick from my cock, clenching around nothing like it’s begging to be filled again.
I thrust back into him in one brutal stroke, and he cries out, his back arching clean off the bed.
“Don’t stop,” he pants, his whole body trembling beneath me. “Exactly like that, Misha, please, more.”
The feeling of sinking into him steals every coherent thought from my brain. I pull out slowly just to watch my cock slide free, his rim clinging to me the entire way. His hole stays open for a second, gaping and slick, before it starts to close again.
I can’t stop staring at it, at how wrecked he looks, how thoroughly used. My cock throbs in my hand as I line myself back up and push just the head in, watching his rim stretch around me and swallow the tip.
Heat races up my spine as I start thrusting harder, chasing that feeling. Every stroke in feels better than the last, the wet sounds of my cock sliding in and out mixing with his desperate moans.
My hand clamps around both of his wrists, and I pin them above his head, forcing them off his cock. “Hands off. You’re going to come from my cock alone, and you’re going to let me watch you fall apart.”
He whines and tries to pull his hands free, but I hold them tight, keeping him exactly where I want him. Powerless and desperate and mine. I crash my mouth to his, and my tongue pushes past his lips, swallowing down every desperate sound he makes.
The whole bed shakes with the force of how hard I’m thrusting into him, the frame creaking and the headboard slamming against the wall in a steady rhythm that echoes through the room.
Every nerve ending in my body is on fire. The slide of my cock into his tight heat feels better than any drug I’ve ever taken, better than the high I chase with every pill and every line.
“I’m going to come,” he gasps against my mouth, his voice breaking. “You keep hitting my prostate, I can’t hold it, I can’t—”
Glancing down between us, I watch his cock twitch violently, completely untouched and leaking steadily onto his stomach.
His whole body goes tense beneath me, muscles locked tight, and then cum shoots out of his cock in thick ropes that coat his stomach and chest, some of it hitting his chin.
The sight undoes me completely, obliterates every thought in my head except for the need to fill him up. I thrust harder, chasing my own release. His hole clenches rhythmically around me as he rides out his orgasm, and it’s almost too much, too good, too intense.
“I’m going to come. You’re wrecking me, Danya,” I pant.
My cock swells inside him, and I can feel it building at the base of my spine, spreading through my entire body like wildfire. The orgasm tears through me so hard my vision blurs out and goes white at the edges.
I bury myself as deep as I can go, grinding against him, and come inside him.
Wave after wave floods his insides, filling him up until I’m completely spent and shaking and can’t give him anything more.
I collapse on top of him without pulling out, gasping for air like I just ran a marathon.
His arms wrap around me weakly, and he presses a sloppy kiss to the top of my head.
“I can’t feel my legs,” he says, his voice shaky.
“Same. My whole body is numb.”
I flip us without pulling out, and he ends up on top of me, my cock still inside him. He’s a weighted blanket made of exhausted Danya. He exhales long and slow, his eyes falling closed. My hands come up to his back and move in slow circles, tracing patterns across his skin.
“Are you okay?”
“That was amazing,” he mumbles, barely awake. “Don’t pull out. Keep me full. Please.”
His breathing evens out within minutes, and he starts to drift, body going heavier against mine.
My hand moves over the raised scars covering his back, feeling each ridge and line under my palm. Who would do something like this to a baby? It’s beyond messed up. It’s evil.
I hope whoever did this is still alive. Because when I find them, I’m going to take them apart piece by piece. I keep my palm pressed against his back until sleep drags me under too.