Page 18

We walked hand in hand past the bar, past the silent woman in the tuxedo who gave us a brief, knowing smile.

Down a narrow hallway lined with peeling wallpaper and yellow light.

Behind one door we heard laughter, behind another, nothing.

We kept going, past the mannequins and their frozen faces, searching for some place to be alone.

The room was empty, the walls bare but for a single broken mirror in the corner and a dangling lightbulb that hummed faintly above us. Concrete floor, old paint curling off the plaster—yet somehow, this little room felt sacred. Private. Untouched by the rest of the world.

I reached for the door and twisted the latch.

It actually locked.

I turned to him. “No interruptions.”

Dimitri didn’t answer. He just stood there, chest rising and falling, his eyes fixed on me like he couldn’t quite believe I was real. His lips trembled, and in a heartbeat, I crossed the room and pulled him into my arms.

Our mouths collided, no hesitation this time—hot, hungry, desperate. He tasted like smoke and winter air, like truth after too many lies. His fingers clutched at the back of my neck as I devoured him, kissed him like the world outside had already ended and this was all that remained.

In that kiss, something shattered inside me. Or maybe it clicked into place.

I loved him.

I didn’t say it. The words felt too small, too fragile to carry something so vast.

So I showed him.

I kissed him deeper, slower now, until he moaned into my mouth. His hands slipped beneath my coat, tugging at my shirt, bunching the fabric between his fists. I pressed him against the wall, and he gasped, the sound vibrating against my tongue.

Then, with a look like he was walking into fire for me, he dropped to his knees.

I froze.

He looked up, hands resting on my thighs, lips parted. “I’ve never done this before,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “But I want to. I’ll do anything to make you feel good.”

His fingers moved to my zipper.

The sound of it sliding down might as well have been thunder.

And then—heat. His mouth on me, careful at first, tentative. But then bolder. I let out a ragged breath, my hand sinking into his hair, tangling in the soft waves at the nape of his neck. He looked up again as he took me deeper, his eyes wide, reverent, hungry.

I groaned—helpless, aching. The world narrowed to this. His lips. His mouth. The dizzying pressure building deep inside me.

I thrust gently, then deeper, and his throat welcomed me. He choked a little, adjusted, then took me again.

But it wasn’t enough.

I needed more.

I reached down, cupped his face, and whispered, “No. Not like this.” I pulled him up, kissed him hard, tasting myself on his lips. “I’m going to make love to you.”

His breath caught. My hands fumbled with his belt, cursing under my breath as the buckle slipped. My fingers trembled like I was seventeen again, desperate and afraid. When I finally got it free, I yanked his trousers down to his knees. His cock sprang free, flushed and glistening. Beautiful.

I dropped to my knees and took him into my mouth in one smooth movement. He cried out—loud, raw, like he’d never felt anything like it before. I wrapped my arms around his waist and stroked lower, tracing along the cleft of him, until my fingers found his entrance.

Dimitri froze.

I pulled back, letting his cock fall from my lips. “I must be inside of you, Dimi,” I said, breathless. “Let me be inside of you.”

I brought two fingers to my mouth, wetting them with spit, then kissed the head of his cock again, soft and slow, as my slicked fingers found their way back. I pressed one gently against him.

He held still, tense.

But then—I felt it. A twitch in my mouth. A throb in my hand.

His cock hardened even more.

He wanted this. Dimitri nodded, a small, barely perceptible movement, but it was enough. I pressed my finger into him slowly, gently, feeling the tight heat of him. His breath hitched, and he let out a low moan, his hands finding their way to my shoulders, gripping tightly.

I worked him like that, with my mouth and my hand, feeling him relax and open up.

The musk of his sweat and the taste of his skin, it was intoxicating.

I added another finger, stretching him, preparing him.

His hips began to move, tentative at first, then more insistently, fucking my mouth and my hand.

“More,” he rasped, voice hoarse and desperate. “I need more.”

I stood, my fingers still inside him, and kissed him deeply.

He kissed back, eager and messy, our teeth clashing, our tongues tangling.

I fumbled in my pockets for the tube of vaseline I swiped from Vera’s makeup bag.

I opened it, slicking up my fingers before pushing a third finger inside Dimitri, feeling him stretch and open for me.

Dimitri cried out, his forehead hitting the wall, and his breath coming in short, sharp pants.

I worked the vaseline onto my shaft, then removed my fingers and pressed the head of my cock against him.

I pushed into him slowly, steadily, feeling him stretch and yield around me.

His breath hitched, and I paused, giving him time to adjust.

“Give me more Petyr, I can take it.”

I slid my length in deeper until I was fully sheathed inside him.

We stayed like that for a moment, breathing together. Then I began to move. Slowly at first, then faster, harder. He met each thrust, his hips moving in sync with mine. Our skin was slick with sweat, our breaths ragged and desperate.

The room filled with our sounds—the slap of skin against skin, our moans and gasps. The world narrowed down to this—just him and me.

I felt the pressure building at the base of my cock, and I tried to hold back.

“C’mon, Petyr, I can take it. Slam it into me, give me everything you’ve got,” Dimitri growled.

I groaned, my restraint shattering. I gripped his hips tighter, my fingers digging into his flesh as I thrusted harder, deeper. The room echoed with the raw, primal sounds of our bodies colliding, our breaths mingling in ragged gasps.

Dimitri’s hands scrabbled for purchase on the wall, his nails scraping against the crumbling plaster. His head tilted back, exposing the taut line of his throat. I leaned in, kissing his neck as I pounded into him, our bodies slamming together with more force than I’d ever experienced.

His moans became cries, then his cries became screams, and I drank them all in, each sound fueling my desire. The pressure in my cock was overwhelming, the pleasure so intense it bordered on pain. I could feel every inch of him, every tremor, every pulse.

“Petyr... I’m... I’m close,” Dimitri panted, his body trembling against me.

I reached around him, wrapping my fist around his cock, stroking him in time with my thrusts. “Together,” I growled, my voice barely recognizable. “We come together.”

Dimitri turned his head and his eyes met mine, and in that moment, I saw everything—his love, his trust, his surrender. It was overwhelming, shattering, and I knew I was lost. Lost in him, lost in us.

With a final, desperate cry, Dimitri came, his cock pulsing in my hand, his seed spilling onto the floor. The sight of him, the feel of him, pushed me over the edge. I thrust into him one last time, my body shuddering as I found my release, filling him with every last drop of myself.

“Oh my God,” Dimitri groaned, then he said the words, words I had been too afraid to say out loud.

“I love you, Petyr.”

I froze, letting this bizarre feeling of happiness course through me. No one, aside from my mother, had ever said these words to me before.

“I love you too, Dimitri,” I sighed. “God help us both.”