Page 50 of Hateful Vows

THIRTY-NINE

DANTE

L ondon is bustling underneath the high ceiling windows of our penthouse.

Cars and people alike move like ants from my point of view on the plush chair, high above the after work traffic and the rhythm of life.

The rain pattering against the glass in a soothing melody doesn’t affect them as they go home or to meet their friends.

To live.

And I’m suspended in a stasis.

After Irina and Aleksei took me back here, to our home, I was stuck in a delirious state for three days.

I’ve been awake for a week now, properly fed, hydrated.

Washed. I even managed to get to the swimming pool on the top floor this morning and do four laps under the supervision of my physiotherapist. I hated every minute of it, how weak I was and out of breath.

But I walked there by myself, swam by myself, and felt like a man for the first time in weeks.

Yet, I’m missing the most vital part of myself.

Irina and Aleksei.

They both avoid me, only coming to my room when I’m sleeping or half-awake.

The drug withdrawal is hard to experience, and probably hard for them to watch. But every step is a distance between us, like a wide canyon I don’t know how to cross. And they don’t either.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Don Ventura. I didn’t know you were awake.

Here’s the dinner Mrs Magda prepared. She’s a scary woman, even more than Mrs Ventura.

” Francisco starts rambling, and I smile kindly at him.

The kid has come to see me every day after school.

He managed to keep me in good spirits when heaviness tried to settle over the past few days.

“Thank you, kid. How’s your mum?”

He shrugs, and I grimace. Francisco’s lost so much in a short amount of time. So did I. Sometimes, he just comes to my room to do his homework. We don’t talk. We don’t need to. Grief and pain just have to be experienced, not rehashed with empty words.

“I’m glad you’re not dead,” he whispers softly, then sniffles, wiping his nose with his sleeve.

I might not be dead but I don’t feel alive, either.

“Oh, you’re awake. Do you need anything?”

I glance at my viper of a wife, except she looks like a mouse, eyes wide and frightened, shifting from foot to foot. Her hair looks dull, and she wears a simple wool dress she’d never have been caught wearing before. Before him .

She’s even going barefoot.

Whatever happened with Gio didn’t only change me, and I hate him with renewed passion for it. He did this to us. Stripped us of what made us strong to reveal charred bones of uncomfortable vulnerability none of us knows what to do with.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Francisco,” I tell him and he takes the hint of dismissal, nodding before leaving, but not before he squeezes Irina in his lanky arms. Her usual detached attitude is fully absent on her face. I wait until the kid disappears.

“Since when do you cater to my desires, vipera ?” I jab, testing the waters.

It doesn’t have the desired effect. Irina Dobreva-Ventura doesn’t fight me this time, and it’s like a missing limb in our relationship.

She tentatively steps forward until she’s in front of me.

And drops to her knees. “Since I almost lost you” are the words she breathes as her chin wobbles and tears fall on her cheeks.

“ Cuore mio .”

Her forehead drops to my thighs, her back racked up with a tremor. Then, her fierce brown eyes ensnare mine.

“I love you, Dante. I’ve loved you for a long time and was too prideful to tell you.

And then, you were gone, and I was so scared.

I’ve come to need you. To crave you. I can’t ever let you out of my sight again.

If you die, I won’t survive it. You call me ‘your heart’, but you’re mine. Without you, it doesn’t beat.”

Taken by the force of her admission, I pull her up to sit on my lap and don’t give her time to push me away or worry about my injuries and health. I kiss her like I’m starving.

It’s the first time in weeks. And it feels like the first time altogether.

After a squeak of surprise, she yields to me, cheeks wet with fresh tears but I don’t stop.

She tastes like home, her skin soft under my hands draped across her neck.

Her pulse beats steadily under my fingers.

I pour my love into her mouth, feeding on how she feels in my arms. Like my missing piece.

She’s thinner than I remember and I don’t like it.

It speaks of how hard she pushed herself to get to me and though I’m grateful, I need her healthy.

I need her safe, glaring at me across our living room, sharpening her tongue with witty insults.

I feed on her panting breaths; I devour her plump lips.

“I’m here,” I tell her between harsh kisses and softer ones, a perfect mirror to what we’ve been and what we’ll become. “I’ll never let anything come between us ever again. Not even death, cuore mio . Now kiss me. Fuck me. Please, remind me that I’m alive.”

My lips descend on her neck where I inhale deeply, her perfume settling my nerves and quieting the latent craving that constantly lives inside me.

“Have you even been cleared for such strain on your body, malysh ?”

Irina and I look up at the same time, but now that I have her body against mine, I refuse to let go, clinging onto her frame like if I let her stand, she’ll leave and avoid me again.

Aleksei’s mouth is set in a hard line, the scar shifting with all minute movements of his lips. I’ve missed licking them. His crossed arms over his chest give him an air of authority as he leans against the threshold of the bedroom. Just like Irina, he looks exhausted, grey under his eyes.

It makes me want to own him again, remind him that I’m okay. That he is, too.

The relaxed, grey sweatpants and black tee-shirt he wears are a contrast I’m not used to when it comes to the austere Russian man. I narrow my eyes. The tee-shirt, the pants. They belong to me .

My nostrils flare and my cock stirs to life. Thank God for small mercies, I’m still capable of being shamelessly horny.

“Come here,” I hook a finger and beckon him forward.

Aleksei’s never been able to resist the commanding tone of my voice when I boss him around. He prowls into the room. Giddiness spreads through me and fills me with a joy I haven’t felt since I saw my best friend die in front of my eyes.

My stubborn lover walks up to us. I fist his tee-shirt and pull him down, locking our mouths together. He lets me but holds back for a second before he melts against my tongue. His hand snakes into my hair, reverent. Like he needs proof that I’m alive.

Aleksei’s kiss is probably better than heroin.

Despite my body’s constant need for the drug, and my thoughts pulling at my attention to focus on it.

I force my brain to remain on them. On Aleksei’s tongue gliding against mine, on Irina’s warm core settling against my hardening dick.

On how hard they fought to get to me, and what I’d do for them.

“Please,” I whisper against his mouth. “ Please , remind me that I’m alive. I love you both. And I need to—” My voice cracks. “I need you to love me back.”

Aleksei lets a pained whimper escape his chest while Irina’s mouth descends on my neck, licking and sucking at the pulse point, my blood thrumming wildly against her tongue.

“You don’t exert yourself then, malysh .”

“Yes, Lyosha .”

“I’m serious. I can’t… I can’t lose you. Either of you.”

I nod solemnly.

Then, I’m standing, my wife deftly removing my linen shirt while kissing the expanse of my chest. She lets go just enough to remove her dress and discard her underwear.

Her glorious body greets my greedy gaze.

But Aleksei is greedy, too. He frames my face with his strong hands, kisses me savagely, then pulls at the strands of my trousers and glides them down like they offend him.

We’re limbs and tongues and passionate love as we tumble into the bed. They force me to sit against the headboard.

I don’t even pout. Without preamble, Irina takes me into her mouth, forearms on my thighs and ass up in the air, just waiting for Aleksei to take advantage of the pert globes displayed for him.

“Fuck, cuore mio . Always so hungry for your husband’s cock.”

She moans against my length, nodding her acquiescence, and it turns ragged as Aleksei slaps her ass once he’s removed his own clothes, making it bounce.

He does it again, and again, eyes affixed to where Irina swallows my cock, his own leaking at the tip.

Threading my fingers through my wife’s long strands, I hold it up for her, never pushing her down, just watching in awe as she devours me and makes me feel again.

Like a live-wire, pleasure spreads through me and I hold out my orgasm. I want this to never end. To be alive in their arms as we share our unbridled love for each other.

I pull on Irina’s nipple as Aleksei fingers her, and our eyes meet.

I might be the one who needs their care most but she will always be our priority.

The brown and green irises have given way to dark arousal in Aleksei’s gaze.

His voice is throaty and tainted with need when he speaks, surprising me.

“I think I should make your wife come with your cock in her slutty mouth, malysh . She seems like she needs it.”

Irina mindlessly agrees, or so I think, and pushes her pelvis back into Aleksei’s fingers, fucking herself as she continues to swallow around my cock, squeezing me until I see stars.

It’s heaven and torture all wrapped into one.

My balls draw tight but I refuse to give her the satisfaction of my cum anywhere but inside that tight pussy.

“That’s it, give it to us, malyshka ,” Aleksei coos as Irina orgasms, coming up for air to scream her pleasure against my skin.