Chapter Fourteen #2
“We should eat.” Protesting the accusation would be pointless. Damir was soft for Kilian.
The bannock tasted good even if it looked…experimental. Honestly, Damir doubted it could taste bad given it was deep-fried dough. He did put sour cream and syrup on his because sour cream belonged on pancake-adjacent substances, and Kilian wrinkled his nose at the sight.
“So what now?” Damir asked once they’d finished, while they sipped their coffees and put off cleaning up.
“Hm?”
“What do people do to celebrate Christmas?”
Kilian shrugged. “I’m sure you’ve seen all the usual shit. Eat, play games, exchange gifts, blah blah.”
“All right, how do you want to celebrate Christmas?”
“By riding you on the couch.”
Damir choked on his coffee, spitting it halfway across the island.
It took him a moment to catch his breath, at which point he discovered Kilian grinning at him like the little shit-stirrer he was. “I forgot how much of a pest you are,” he said wonderingly. “How did that happen?”
“What are you going to do about it?”
He was going to give Kilian exactly what he wanted, but it wouldn’t do to admit as much so soon. Instead, he tugged Kilian out of his chair, then lifted him up at the waist.
“What!” Kilian squawked. “No, you can’t carry me. You’ll throw your back out. I’m too heavy—”
Damir ignored his protests and carried him over to the living room, where he sat down right in the middle of the couch and settled Kilian on his lap.
“So?” He arched an eyebrow.
“So?” Kilian echoed.
“You wanted to ride me. Go on.”
Some thirty minutes later, Kilian collapsed on the couch beside Damir. Damir could see his thighs quiver despite Damir having done most of the work. “How do people do that in porn?” he asked.
It startled a laugh out of Damir. “What?”
“Ride someone properly. I could barely move.”
Damir scooped Kilian’s discarded briefs from beside the couch and used them to wipe him clean. “I think porn actors are probably more used to doing it. Also, they might be using numbing lube.”
Kilian frowned. “Why would you want to numb anything?”
Damir tried and failed to suppress a smirk. “Not everyone loves getting fucked as much as you. Which probably makes it easier to keep up a rhythm as well.”
“Oh. Well, that’s embarrassing.” Kilian stretched his arms over his head, closing his eyes and nuzzling deeper into the couch. “D’you like it? Getting fucked?”
Damir shrugged.
Kilian cracked an eye open to muster him. “Bet it’s only when you can be in charge. Bet you love riding.”
“We can’t all be pillow princesses.”
“Shut up.”
Damir was content to follow the instruction, stretching out beside Kilian. He reached for the remote on the coffee table and turned on the TV, shifting away from the sports channel for once to turn on some mindless holiday programming.
“Hey, Damir?”
There it was, the inevitable post-sex non sequitur. He’d missed it.
“Yes, pest?”
“You think maybe next time, you could spank me a little again?”
Damir sighed and stretched his arm out, allowing Kilian to nestle into his side. “Before we do that, we need to talk about limits and safewords.”
Kilian snickered.
“What?”
“Isn’t that really intense BDSM stuff?”
Damir stared at the top of his head. His hair was a mess, curls gone frizzy. “Yes,” he said slowly. “What did you think we were doing?”
Kilian propped himself up, his sharp chin biting into Damir’s left pec. “I thought it was just some light kink?”
“A tad more than light, Kilian. The feminization thing alone—”
“The what now?”
“How much you like it when I call you a good girl.”
In Damir’s arms, Kilian gave a happy little wiggle. He needed to be approximately 1000 percent less cute for Damir to make it through this conversation unscathed. “I’m assuming you aren’t trans?”
“What does that have to do with—”
“You don’t like me calling you that because you identify as a woman?”
“Oh. No. It’s hot during sex, but otherwise…”
“Right. So you enjoy a mix of praise and feminizing dirty talk during sex.”
“Yeah.” Kilian nodded enthusiastically, digging his chin further into Damir’s flesh. “But you know exactly what to say to get me off. What’s left to talk about?”
“I need to know where to stop.” Giving in to the impulse he’d tried to bury, Damir stroked across the top of Kilian’s head.
“I want to talk to you in a way that works for you, but if I don’t know your boundaries, I could say the wrong thing and make you feel humiliated in a bad way.
And especially with impact play like spanking, we need to be careful.
I don’t want to hurt you too much for hockey or for your comfort zone. ”
Kilian pressed up into Damir’s touch. “I don’t really know what too much is. Guess it’s lucky we’ll have to stop soon.”
They would? Damir didn’t want to stop. Damir wanted to sit Kilian down with a list of kinks and go through them together, watching him squirm and get turned on as they went.
He also wanted to watch movies on the couch, wrapped up in each other the way they were right now, and take Kilian out for fancy meals and buy him things.
He wanted Kilian to drive him places and for Kilian to ask him random questions. He wanted Kilian, always. “Why?”
“Ketchup won’t stay gone forever. We’ll have to go back to being roommates and nothing more after Christmas break, right?”
Damir’s throat constricted. “Right.”
“I mean, I guess we crossed the boundary a day early for my full-on mental collapse at being outed by a shitty reporter, but it was almost Christmas break then. Thanks for taking care of me again, by the way.”
“Anytime,” Damir said weakly.
“Oh, dude, you don’t want to give me so much leeway.” Kilian smiled up at him, his fingers toying through Damir’s chest hair. “I’ll be asking you for it all the time.”
Why on earth wouldn’t Damir want that? “You can—”
“No, seriously, Damir, don’t…don’t tell me I can.”
Striving for an even tone, Damir asked, “Why not?”
“Because—” Kilian pushed himself upright. “—I…ugh, let me show you.”
Not understanding why he’d leave their cocoon, Damir reached for him, but Kilian was on his feet and padding toward the bedroom before he could stop him.
For a moment, Damir wondered if this meant the end, if he’d pushed too hard, and Kilian would get dressed, then decree their Christmas break and their sexual relationship over.
Before he could get too worried about it, Kilian reappeared, still mostly naked, with his phone in hand. Damir shifted to his side, propping himself up on his elbow to make space for Kilian.
“So,” Kilian said. “I know things are super complicated for you with Russia and your religion and everything, and I’m out now. I mean, I guess I already was, but now, I’m out-out, and…ugh, just read it.”
He thrust his phone at Damir, open to the Firecrackers’ website.
Damir read.
After a few minutes, Kilian shifted in his seat. “I think they put it up an hour or two ago. That’s what Brianna said they’d do anyway. I haven’t looked at the responses. But, um…” His leg bounced up and down.
Damir placed a hand on his knee to stop the movement and continued to read.
“I know this means you can’t be seen with me anymore,” Kilian continued, “and if you need me to move out I can—”
Damir squeezed Kilian’s thigh. “Shh.”
“But—”
Damir looked up at him. “Kilian, this is a long post, and I read slowly in English. Give me a minute.”
“Oh.” Kilian subsided but continued to radiate anxious energy; Damir could feel it coming off him in waves. He took the time to finish the post all the same.
When he was done, he set the phone aside and sat up to wrap his arms around Kilian from behind. “I don’t want you to move out.”
“But…Russia?”