30. Mikhail #2
Humming against his neck, I press a kiss there before I start moving.
He’s so tight even with all the prep, his walls squeezing me with every slow thrust. The warmth of him surrounds my cock, letting me feel every inch of him, the drag and slide as I pull out and push back in.
My stitches pull with each movement, and I try to ignore the pain, letting it remind me that I fought for this, that we made it through.
“I need to take it slower,” I say against his neck, biting down gently and sucking a mark into his skin.
“We can do slow.”
Keeping the pace steady and deep, I let myself enjoy every moment of this.
My hand slides from his hip to his stomach, carefully avoiding where he got shot, pulling him back against me with each thrust. The angle lets me grind against his prostate, and he gasps, his hand reaching back to grip my thigh.
“Misha.”
I shift slightly, and the new angle makes him moan, his whole body shuddering. Every thrust is deep and measured, pulling almost all the way out before sinking back in until I’m buried to the hilt.
“Missed this so much,” I say, sucking another mark into his neck. “Missed feeling you like this.”
“Me too,” he gasps, pushing back to meet my thrusts. “Thought about this every day.”
My hand moves down, and I wrap it around his cock, stroking him slowly in time with my movements.
“So good for me,” I murmur against his ear.
He turns his head, and I kiss him, deep and slow, swallowing his moans. The pace stays steady and unhurried, both of us savoring every sensation. My stitches ache, but I don’t care, too focused on the way he feels around me, the way he sounds when I hit that spot inside him just right.
Letting go of his cock, I reach for the nightstand and fumble with the drawer, keeping my rhythm steady inside him. My fingers find what I’m looking for, and I pull out the dildo we bought last week but haven’t used yet.
“Danya,” I say against his ear, holding it where he can see. “Want to try something?”
He looks at it, and his breath catches. “Yes,” he gasps. “Please, yes.”
I reach for the lube and slick up the toy thoroughly, making sure it’s coated, before pressing the tip of the dildo against his entrance alongside my cock.
“Tell me if it’s too much.”
“More,” he breathes, pushing back against me despite the stretch.
Working the toy in slowly, I push it against his stuffed entrance where my cock is already buried deep. His rim stretches wider, the muscle taut and straining as I work the dildo in alongside me.
The resistance makes the slide slow, his body fighting to accommodate both even as he pushes back, wanting more. I get another inch inside and his hole gapes around both of us. He gasps, his hand flying back to grip my hip hard.
“Breathe. You’re doing so good.”
He forces himself to relax, his body slowly opening up to accept more.
I work the toy in gradually, inch by careful inch, feeling the way his walls stretch around both my cock and the dildo.
The pressure is incredible, the tight heat of him amplified by how full he is.
When it’s finally seated fully inside him alongside my cock, we’re both trembling.
“Fuck,” he gasps.
“I know,” I say, staying completely still to let him adjust. “You feel incredible like this. So tight.”
I start moving slowly, pulling the toy out slightly when I thrust in deep, then pushing it back when I pull out. The rhythm keeps him constantly filled and stretched, alternating the pressure so he never gets a moment of relief, never gets used to it.
Every thrust makes him whimper, and I adjust the angle so the toy grinds against his prostate when my cock pulls back, then my cock hits it when the toy slides out.
“Feel that?” I murmur against his ear. “Feel how full you are? How stretched?”
“Yes. I’m so full, I can’t—”
“You can,” I assure him, keeping the pace slow. “You’re taking it perfectly.”
“Right there,” he gasps. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop, I need—”
Sweat builds between us, and I know how close he’s getting from the way his entire body tenses, from the desperate sounds spilling from his mouth.
“Come for me,” I say softly.
His orgasm tears through him while his hole clenches rhythmically around us.
The sensation drags me over the edge, and I bury myself deep, grinding against him as I come inside him, filling him up even more while the toy stays seated and we’re both shaking through it. I ease the toy out, and he whimpers.
“I want to keep my cock inside you,” I murmur against his neck, wrapping my arms around him.
He hums, his body relaxing against mine, his hole squeezes around my softening cock. I press a kiss to his shoulder, both of us catching our breath while I stay buried inside him.
“That was incredible.”
“We’re definitely doing that again. I love you so much, Danya.”
“I love you too, Misha.”
My lips trail soft kisses across his shoulder as I breathe him in, that watermelon scent making my head spin.
If I could freeze this moment and stay here forever, I would.
My cock still inside him, his body relaxed and satisfied from coming.
I’ll never get enough of him, of his perfect body and the way he feels around me.
But we’ve got places to be and things to do, so we can’t stay like this much longer.
“Are you ready?” I ask him, and he nods. We make our way to the car, and I slide into the driver’s seat. Daniil doesn’t even argue about it, just gets in the passenger side and buckles up. We’re heading to our parents’ house to visit our tree.
It’s our private land, so I can’t get pulled over, and it’s been forever since I’ve been behind the wheel. I haven’t even tried getting my license back since I lost it, maybe I should though.
We slow down as our childhood home comes into view. I almost want to burn the whole thing down, but then I’d also burn our secret spot on the roof, and I’d like to go there someday with him. We could lie on our backs and look at the stars and smoke together.
We get out of the car, and I lace our fingers together, leading him around the side of the house toward the back. We take it slow, making sure we don’t push too hard. Daniil’s walking better, but he still gets tired easily.
The trees surrounding us are covered in thick green leaves, summer still holding on even though fall is creeping closer. You can feel it in the air though, that shift coming.
Birds sing overhead and warm sunlight filters through the canopy, dappling across the forest floor in shifting patterns.
I stick to the main trail for as long as possible before cutting through the dense forest toward our spot, pushing branches aside and holding them so they don’t snap back and hit him.
“How are you feeling?” I ask, glancing back at him.
“I’m okay,” he says, squeezing my hand.
It finally comes into view.
Our tree.
Still bare of leaves like it always has been, looking ancient and weathered.
Carefully, I pull him to me and cup his face with my hand, brushing my thumb across his cheek before leaning in to give him a soft, lingering kiss. He smiles against my lips, and we walk together hand in hand to our little hollow at the base of the tree.
Peeking inside, I see the vacuum-packed cookies and a folded blanket exactly where our mother said she’d leave them. I pull everything out carefully and shake out the blanket, spreading it across the forest ground.
When I straighten up, I spot the carving we made as kids right above the hollow. D+M, carved deep into the bark and worn smooth by years of weather. I run my fingers over the letters, tracing the grooves we cut with stolen kitchen knives.
We lower ourselves down onto the blanket, and Daniil shifts to lie on top of me, his head settling right over my heart. My hands go to his hair, fingers threading through the messy black strands, and I press a soft kiss to the top of his head.
“Do you ever want kids?” he asks suddenly.
I blink. “What? Did you eat an edible or something?”
“I’m serious. Do you want them? Because being with me means you can’t have that. I don’t want kids, and I feel like that’s unfair to you.”
“Hell no. I have enough problems keeping myself alive. Where did you get the idea I want kids?”
“I don’t know. I just wanted to make sure we were on the same page about it.”
“Danya, I can barely take care of myself. The last thing I need is a tiny human depending on me for survival. That’s a disaster waiting to happen.”
He huffs out a laugh. “Thank god.”
I smile before I can help it. “What about a dog instead?”
“It has to be a bor—”
“A border collie. I know.”
“I love being with someone who knows me better than I know myself,” he says, grinning.
“You’ve been talking about getting a border collie since you were ten. It’s not exactly a secret.”
“We should get two,” he says.
I hum. “Sure.”
“You’re not naming our dogs something stupid though.”
I roll my eyes. “I won’t.”
“I’m glad we’re doing this,” he says.
“Doing what?”
“Visiting our tree.”
My throat tightens, and I kiss the top of his head again. “Me too.”
We’re back in the only place that ever made us feel safe and protected as kids.
This is where we started, two broken pieces that somehow fit together, and this is where I want to end. Buried here alongside him when our time comes, roots growing through us until we’re part of this place forever. Together even in death, the way we’ve been together in everything else.