17. Kirill
KIRILL
Mikhail’s hands followed the desperate tilt of his hips.
Fingertips brushed directly into the pooling slick, smearing the hot, wet friction across his inner thighs.
A low, dark glint of approval flashed in Mikhail’s green eyes as he felt the undeniable, physical proof of Kirill’s arousal clinging to his fingers.
Stepping forward, Mikhail pushed him back toward the bed.
Kirill let himself be guided blindly, collapsing onto the mattress’s edge.
Mikhail stepped directly into the space between his parted thighs.
The height difference was stark; Mikhail’s groin was directly at Kirill’s eye level.
The heavy, prominent bulge of his arousal was trapped beneath the fine fabric of his trousers, radiating a dense heat.
Kirill unconsciously licked his dry lips.
Mikhail’s thumb immediately came down, dragging rough across the wet motion—a silent, absolute command.
When Kirill parted his lips, Mikhail stepped flush against him. The hard, heavy length of his cock pushed past Kirill’s lips, a sudden invasion of heat, salt, and the sharp, musky tang of pre-come beading at his slit.
Kirill sucked him in, tasting the raw, primal essence of the Alpha. His tongue swirled against the smooth heat, taking him deeper as his hands came up to grip Mikhail’s thighs. His fingers dug hard into the expensive, textured wool of Mikhail’s suit trousers, anchoring himself against the tide.
Mikhail’s hands slid back into his hair, guiding the rhythmic pace, and Kirill surrendered entirely, his mouth working blatantly, swallowing down the thick heat.
He could hear Mikhail’s approval in the sharp tightening of his fingers at his scalp, and the low, guttural hum of pleasure vibrating in the Alpha's throat.
The cock swelled further against his tongue, hot and pulsing, filling his mouth until Kirill let out a muffled, desperate moan.
Suddenly, Mikhail pulled away. Kirill let out a soft, whimpering sound of protest, his mouth suddenly cold and empty. But Mikhail was already moving, pushing him further back onto the mattress and looming over him.
Mikhail’s mouth slammed onto the side of his neck.
Teeth nipped and sucked violently at his throat, bruising the tender skin right above the collar, marking him with a bruising possessiveness.
Kirill gasped, his head snapping back into the pillows as a blinding jolt of pleasure shot through his spine.
Mikhail’s heavy palms pinned his wrists flat against the sheets, trapping him effortlessly while his mouth traveled lower, trailing burning saliva down his chest. He bit sharply at Kirill’s aching nipples, then soothed the thrumming pain with broad, wet strokes of his tongue.
Kirill squirmed beneath him, his slick seeping freely now, a hot, continuous flow that coated his thighs and soaked into the bedsheets. Mikhail’s hands slid down to his knees, ruthlessly spreading his legs wider apart, exposing him fully. Kirill trembled violently at the vulnerability.
“Look at me,” Mikhail commanded, his voice a gravelly, authoritative snap.
Kirill forced his heavy eyelids open, meeting those dark green eyes.
Mikhail’s mouth moved down, his tongue deliberately lapping up the sweet, clear slick that coated Kirill’s inner thighs—a dominant, unhurried display.
Kirill cried out, a high, fractured sound, his hips jerking off the bed in a wild reflex.
Mikhail shifted lower still, his mouth closing over Kirill’s throbbing cock.
His tongue swirled with agonizing precision around the sensitive head, before he slid all the way down, taking him deep into the wet heat of his throat with filthy, uninhibited abandon.
Kirill’s fingers fisted into the cotton sheets, tearing at the fabric as his entire back arched off the bed.
The sensation was overwhelming, a white-hot pressure that made him keen aloud, his hips bucking helplessly against the relentless rhythm.
Mikhail’s mouth was a vise of perfect pressure, sucking and licking, while his heavy hands clamped down on Kirill’s hip bones, pinning him flat to prevent him from thrusting too wildly.
“Like that... please, like that,” Kirill gasped out, his vision blurring, starving for more of that suffocating, wet heat.
Mikhail hummed around him, a deep vibration that sent electric sparks directly through Kirill’s core.
His cock felt impossibly thick, dripping slick that wet his balls and smeared across the sheets beneath them.
Mikhail’s blunt fingers began to tease at his tight entrance, brushing the hypersensitive, puckered skin, and Kirill shuddered hard, his mind fracturing.
Mikhail pulled back, his green eyes blown wide and dark with raw arousal.
In a few fluid, impatient movements, he stripped off his own clothes.
Kirill reached out blindly, his fingers scratching at the air, needing the solid, burning weight of Mikhail's skin.
Mikhail settled heavily between his thighs once more.
The hard, blunt head of his cock pressed directly against Kirill's entrance—wet, slicked, and ready to breach.
Kirill licked his lips, his internal muscles pulsing with a desperate, rhythmic anticipation.
“Tell me,” Mikhail growled, a low, predatory sound.
Kirill’s hands found Mikhail’s broad shoulders, his nails digging into the tense muscle. “Please,” he whispered, the word torn violently from his throat. He needed to be filled; he needed the agonizing stretch.
Mikhail’s large hands slid beneath his lower back, tilting his hips up at a sharp angle, and then, with a heavy, deliberate thrust, he pushed inside.
It was a thick, unyielding invasion. Kirill’s body stretched and opened, swallowing him down with a loud, wet slide of slick.
Mikhail filled him completely, stretching his walls with a delicious, heavy pressure that left Kirill entirely breathless.
His head fell back, a loud gasp tearing from his lips as Mikhail sheathed himself to the root.
Mikhail began to move. His hips snapped forward in a brutal, driving rhythm.
Each deep drag of his cock inside Kirill sent brilliant sparks of pleasure exploding through his lower stomach.
Kirill moaned, a low, wanton, unraveled sound.
His hands clutched frantically at Mikhail’s shoulders, feeling the powerful flex and bunch of muscle with every downward drive.
Mikhail leaned down, his mouth finding the crook of Kirill's throat, biting down hard enough to break the skin, marking his territory.
Kirill keened, his hips rocking upward instinctively to meet every heavy blow.
The friction inside him was perfect, his own slick easing the way, allowing Mikhail to glide effortlessly deeper and deeper.
“More,” Kirill begged, his voice rough and ruined by need. “Harder... Mikhail, more.”
He needed the relentless, bruising slide against his inner walls.
Mikhail obliged, his pace turning savage, his hips snapping faster as he drove deep.
The rhythmic, wet slap of skin against skin filled the quiet bedroom, mingling with their heavy, ragged moans.
With every thrust, Kirill’s own cock rubbed frictionally against Mikhail’s lower stomach, sending sharp jolts of electricity straight to his brain.
He was close, agonizingly close, his balls drawing up tight and aching.
Suddenly, Mikhail’s thrusts became erratic, heavier.
Kirill could feel the base of Mikhail's cock beginning to swell inside him—the tell-tale, terrifying stretch of an impending knot. He cried out as Mikhail fucked into him with a final, desperate angle, dragging hard over his prostate with every single stroke. The pleasure was blinding, white-hot and absolute. Kirill came with a fractured shout, spending heavily between their chests. His internal muscles clamped down in violent, rhythmic spasms around Mikhail’s cock.
Mikhail let out a deep, animalistic growl of release, his entire body locking up as he spilled his hot seed deep inside Kirill’s core.
Kirill could feel the knot expanding fully inside him, the base of Mikhail’s cock swelling to the size of a fist as he came.
His walls stretched down to their absolute limit around the knot, filling him until there was no air, no space left between them.
They were locked together, fused by biology.
Mikhail’s forehead dropped heavily onto Kirill’s damp shoulder, both of them panting, chests heaving in unison.
Kirill could feel the rapid, frantic hitch of Mikhail’s breath against his neck, the crushing, comforting press of his weight.
The knot throbbed deep within his womb, a rhythmic pulsing that signaled the Alpha's biology was still dominant, still hard, still demanding. Kirill’s hands slid up Mikhail’s sweat-slicked back, holding him close, binding them tighter.
He breathed out a long, shaky sigh, letting his internal muscles loosen and accept the intrusion.
Mikhail began to move again—short, shallow, localized thrusts that worked directly around the swollen knot, keeping the pleasure white-hot and agonizingly prolonged.
Time dissolved entirely. Kirill simply held Mikhail as he shifted over him, the knot keeping him anchored, stretching him perfectly.
He could feel every single throb, every twitch of the Alphas release, and it sent continuous sparks of pleasure through his exhausted body.
Mikhail’s mouth found his again, kissing him with a filthy, desperate abandon—all teeth, tongue, and the hot taste of their shared breaths.
Kirill kissed back fiercely, moaning into Mikhail's mouth as the knot shifted heavily against his prostate.