21. Kirill #3
Mikhail let out a low, gravelly groan that vibrated directly into Kirill’s teeth.
His massive hands came up, clamping onto Kirill’s hip bones with enough pressure to leave pale marks on the skin.
The kiss was deep, wet, and thick with the bitter tang of stale coffee and the heavy, musky ozone of an Alpha’s rising intent.
Mikhail’s tongue swept inside, dominant and unhurried, tasting the hot, clean interior of Kirill’s mouth until Kirill was breathing nothing but the Alpha’s scent—cedarwood, winter air, and raw testosterone.
Kirill’s internal walls gave a sudden, violent twitch. He was already beginning to leak, the clear, sweet-scented slick beginning to coat his thighs. He knew the biology was ready.
Mikhail’s hands slid upward, his rough, calloused palms scraping against Kirill’s ribs before his fingers pinched hard around Kirill’s nipples.
Kirill gasped aloud, his head snapping back as a sharp jolt of pleasure shot straight to his groin.
In response, he rocked his hips forward, deliberately grinding his wet, unprotected entrance down against the heavy ridge of Mikhail’s trousers.
Mikhail’s grip tightened until it was nearly bruising. A dark, animalistic growl rumbled in his chest. Kirill knew the threshold had been crossed; the Alpha wouldn't tolerate the teasing for much longer.
Mikhail’s hands dropped to the meat of Kirill’s ass, his fingers digging into the flesh as he hoisted him off his lap in one effortless, lifting motion.
Kirill wrapped his legs tightly around Mikhail’s broad waist, his arms locking behind the Alpha’s thick neck as he was carried into the small bedroom.
The friction of Mikhail’s heavy trousers against his wet, open heat with every stride was a exquisite torment.
Mikhail dropped him onto the mattress. The impact was hard, the springs groaning beneath the grey sheet.
Kirill didn't complain. He immediately scooted back against the cold plastered wall, pulling a small, hard pillow beneath his hips to tilt his pelvis upward at a sharp, vulnerable angle.
He reached down and pulled his own knees back toward his shoulders, spreading himself entirely open, exposing the glistening, pale pink ring of his hole, which was already weeping clear, sweet-smelling slick onto the coarse linen.
Mikhail didn't waste breath on words. He stripped with a violent, impatient efficiency, the snaps of his shirt tearing open, his heavy leather belt clattering loudly against the bare floorboards. He settled between Kirill’s legs, a towering wall of dark hair and hot skin that blocked out what little light remained in the room.
Leaning down, Mikhail pressed his face into Kirill’s groin.
He licked a broad, wet stripe from the base of Kirill’s scrotum all the way up the underside of his throbbing cock, his tongue flat and rough as a cat’s.
Kirill shrieked, his fingers clawing into the mattress as his spine arched off the bed.
Mikhail didn't stop; he circled the head of Kirill’s cock with his lips, humming a low, resonant note against the hypersensitive skin.
The vibration traveled straight into Kirill’s core, making his internal smooth muscle clench in a frantic, desperate rhythm.
The sweet, heavy scent of Kirill’s heat was filling the small room now, turning the air thick and humid. He could feel his slick dripping steadily down his perineum, soaking into the pillow beneath him.
Then, Mikhail sealed his mouth over the head and swallowed him whole, taking him deep until his lips hit Kirill’s pubic bone.
The heat of Mikhail’s throat was total, a wet, suffocating sleeve that compressed Kirill’s length with perfect, high-pressure suction.
Kirill cried out, a high, broken sound that echoed off the bare walls, his knuckles turning white as he fisted the grey sheets.
Mikhail added his large hand at the base of Kirill’s cock, twisting his fingers firmly around the root as his head bobbed up and down in a relentless, driving rhythm.
The sensation was too pure, too unmediated by the mind. Kirill’s analytical defenses disintegrated. He could feel the internal contractions building in his lower stomach, a hot, golden pressure that was rising too fast to control.
“Mikhail... wait, I’m—Mikhail?—”
He choked on his own breath as Mikhail ignored the protest, drawing him down into the very back of his throat, his throat muscles relaxing into a soft, wet sheath that sucked him deeper than before.
Kirill’s cock twitched violently against the Alpha’s tongue.
With a guttural, unraveled moan that tore from his throat, Kirill came, shooting hot, thick jets of his release straight down Mikhail’s throat.
Mikhail stayed down for several seconds, his throat working in long, heavy swallows as he took every drop of the omega’s offering.
When he finally pulled away, it was with a loud, wet pop that echoed in the quiet room.
He straightened up, his lips glistening, a single white drop of Kirill’s seed hanging from the corner of his mouth.
Kirill lay back against the pillow, his breath rattling in his chest, his eyes heavy-lidded and unfocused.
But as he watched Mikhail through the dim light, seeing the dark, swollen line of the Alpha’s mouth and the absolute dominance in his posture, a strange, feral hunger woke in his own throat.
He had never initiated this part of the choreography—it was outside the standard protocol of his submission.
But here, in the grey room without the collar, the lines were blurred.
He sat up, his abdominal muscles aching slightly, and reached out, his fingers catching Mikhail’s jaw. He pulled the Alpha down toward him.
Mikhail allowed it, his eyes narrowing in curiosity as Kirill leaned forward and sealed their lips together.
Kirill pushed his tongue into Mikhail’s mouth, claiming the taste of his own release, sharing the bitter, zinc-heavy flavor of his own semen with the man who had just swallowed it.
Mikhail let out a deep, dangerous groan into the kiss, his hands instantly threading into the hair at the back of Kirill’s head, holding their mouths locked together with bruising force.
The taste was sharp, hot, and entirely theirs.
Breaking the kiss with a breathless gasp, Kirill slid down the mattress, shifting his attention to the heavy, pulsing length of Mikhail’s cock. The scent of the Alpha’s pre-come was deafening now—a sharp, metallic musk that smelled of old iron and leather.
Kirill ran his tongue up the thick, protruding vein on the underside of the shaft, tasting the hot, salty skin.
His hole gave a violent, sympathetic clench at the contact.
He took just the head into his mouth, his lips forming a tight ring as he flicked his tongue against the sensitive bundle of nerves right below the slit.
Mikhail’s hips gave a sudden, involuntary jerk. His fingers tightened in Kirill’s hair until it hurt.
“Kirill,” he warned, his voice a low vibration that Kirill felt through his own jawbone.
Kirill didn't answer with words. He relaxed the back of his throat, mimicking the wet surrender Mikhail had shown him, and slid all the way down the thick shaft until his nose was buried in the dark, curly hair at Mikhail's groin.
The heat inside his mouth was staggering.
Mikhail groaned aloud, a raw, unedited sound, his hips beginning to snap forward in a hard, instinctive rhythm.
Kirill took three heavy, throat-stretching thrusts before he pulled back, gasping for air, a thin line of saliva connecting them in the dark.
“Enough,” Kirill whispered hoarsely, his eyes bright with a rare, frantic desperation. “I need you inside. Now.”
Mikhail’s green eyes flared with a sudden, dark heat. He didn't speak; he simply caught Kirill by the hip and flipped him over onto his hands and knees with a single, heavy exertion of strength.
Kirill planted his palms flat against the coarse sheet, his head hanging low, his spine arching as he pushed his hips back, presenting his open, dripping entrance to the Alpha.
He looked back over his shoulder, his vision swimming.
The expression on Mikhail’s face was completely feral, his nostrils flared as he drank in the scent of Kirill’s submission.
Mikhail didn't wait. He lined the blunt, heavy head of his cock against the wet ring of Kirill’s hole and thrust forward with a single, devastating drive.
The stretch was total. Kirill let out a high, fractured cry as his internal walls were split open by the thickness, his eyes rolling back into his head as his muscles fought to accommodate the length.
Mikhail didn't give him time to adjust. He clamped his massive hands onto Kirill’s hip bones, using them as a vise to anchor the omega as he began to fuck him with a hard, punishing pace.
Thud. Thud. Thud.