Chapter Five #3
The bed shifted as Denisov got to his feet.
Kilian heard him rustle around, probably finding his clothes, and then his steps receded out of the room.
Good. He would leave, and Kilian could get through this alone.
More tears burned behind his eyes, and he blinked furiously, waiting for the scrape and click of the door when Denisov left.
If Kilian could wait until he was gone to start crying (again), he might preserve that last tiny shred of dignity.
He rubbed his face into the pillow to hide his watery eyes.
When the door closed, Kilian would get up, no matter how heavy his limbs felt and how empty his chest. He needed to at least change the top sheet.
It was disgusting and tacky with his come.
He held his breath as he waited. And waited.
And waited some more, until he had to take a great shuddering inhale.
Finally, he rolled over to see what was happening.
There in the doorway stood Denisov, wearing nothing but his boxers, with a washrag in one hand and another fucking bottle of sports drink in the other.
“I thought you were leaving,” Kilian said.
“Do you want me to?”
Kilian wanted Denisov to stay forever. He couldn’t think of anything worse than being left alone now. But he shouldn’t say so; he was supposed to be an adult. So, he reached for the bottle and took a sip.
Denisov took a seat at the edge of the bed. “I wouldn’t…I shouldn’t leave.”
“Why?”
“Things got very…intense. I got very intense.”
Kilian shrugged and drew his knees up, keenly aware he was still naked in all his pasty glory. With the sex over, no one wanted to see that. “I can take it.”
Denisov scoffed. “I know you can take it. You can take all kinds of things. Doesn’t mean they won’t fuck you up.”
Picking at the label on the bottle, Kilian asked, “Fuck me up how?”
Denisov angled himself so he faced Kilian fully, one knee up on the bed. Gigantic hockey prodigies must be too good for post-sex body shyness. “We didn’t negotiate at all. I’m sorry. I should have asked you if it was all right to treat you that way before I did.”
Before he could stop himself, Kilian snorted derisively. “Didn’t stop you last time.”
“For which I also apologize.” Denisov ran a hand through his hair. It really was getting long. Kilian wanted to pull on it. He’d missed a chance there. “I don’t know if you noticed this, but being a hockey player doesn’t lend itself to building healthy relationships with other men.”
Laughter rose in Kilian’s gut. Someone should tell Tom and Jax about this stunning new revelation. Maybe Kilian could inform them that his hookup wanted to know how they did it. He couldn’t help a giggle escaping.
Denisov watched him, bemused, and then got up on his knees to shuffle closer. He held out his arms. “Is this all right?”
Still chuckling, Kilian turned into him and let himself be held.
It felt nothing like sweaty, clunky hockey hugs through layers of gear or the tight, clingy embraces his sisters gave him in greeting when they all happened to be home at the same time.
Being held by Denisov was soothing. Denisov had seen Kilian begging to be treated in a way Kilian never wanted anyone to know he craved, but instead of being disgusted, he’d opened his arms to give out affection.
“How experienced are you with…that kind of sex?” Denisov asked, mouth moving against Kilian’s hair.
“Uh.” Kilian had only been having any kind of sex for about a year in the first place. Did he mean anal? “I mean, I’ve gotten fucked plenty.”
“I don’t mean the acts in specific. I mean the kink.”
“Oh.” He’d been aware that the dirty talk was a bit out there, but he’d wanted it desperately enough not to care. “It’s…not something I would ask a random hookup for. But it was good. It was really good.”
“For me as well.”
Kilian hadn’t known he was concerned, but to hear Denisov had enjoyed what they’d done as well—that he wasn’t doing it to appease Kilian’s depraved fantasies—made him breathe a sigh of relief. “I’m glad.”
“I should have asked you before I called you those things, though, and before I touched you like…like…”
“Like you owned me,” Kilian blurted out. “I loved it.”
“Then we were lucky. But next time, we should talk about it first.”
Next time? Kilian twisted to look at him.
“Ah, if you want to do this again, of course,” Denisov added hurriedly. Was he blushing? With only one bulb on the overhead lamp working, Kilian couldn’t tell. He might simply be flushed from the exertion of sex.
Feeling brave, Kilian pressed a kiss to one warm cheek. “I think you can count on me always wanting you.”
A smile spread across Denisov’s face, not the wolfish, gleaming thing he was famous for in postgame interviews but something genuine. The skin around his eyes crinkled, and the curve of his lips emphasized how round the tip of his nose was. He looked, for lack of a better word, cute.
“I’m very flattered. Is it wrong to assume you do not know anything about aftercare?”
“Probably not,” Kilian admitted.
“All right. Then we are going to take a shower, find something to eat, and come back to bed for more of this.” Denisov gestured, indicating the cuddling. “Does that sound acceptable?”
It was very lucky Denisov played on a team Kilian saw only three times a year, or he would be in serious danger of developing feelings. “Sounds perfect.”