“Ask me,” I told him.
“Oh fuck. Vanya. Fuck me.”
“Nicer,” I said, giving him a hard nudge.
His elbows started to shake. “Are you serious?”
“Yes, pretty little goalie. Am serious. Ask me nice. I know you can.”
There was a long silence, and I could feel him fighting himself again. His ego. His pride. Then he swallowed heavily and whispered, “Please. Please,Vanya. I need you inside me. I need to feel you. I need you to fucking overwhelm me.”
“I love you,” I told him in Russian. He went boneless the moment I thrust forward, and he took me like he was made to do it.
“Vanya,” he gasped. And fuck, I love the way he said my name. I love the way it tumbled from his lips like a prayer.
His arms began to shake again as I shifted higher up onto my knees. I was hitting the perfect angle from the way he let out a shattered groan and his ass began to seek more friction.
Gripping him by the hips, I dug my fingers in and began to fuck him in earnest. The room was silent apart from broken moans, ragged breath, and skin slapping skin.
“Fuck, fuck,” Micah gasped. The back of his neck was bright red with a lust-filled flush. “Vanya, I think I’m…I might—ohgod.”
It took me a moment for my brain to understand what he was trying to say, but then I realized it. He was going to come.
He was going to come untouched.
Gripping him harder, I fucked him faster, deeper, rolling my hips, hitting his prostate with every push and every pull until he was trembling and sobbing.
And then he let go.
It was between two breaths, and his elbows gave out on him, his face planting into the mattress while I held his ass in the air and railed into him with everything I had.
He cried out loudly into the sheets as I chased my own climax, letting it overwhelm me as I filled his hole. My own knees were shaking, and my heart was hammering in my chest as I slipped out and gathered him into my arms.
He clung to me like if he didn’t, he would fly away, and I rolled us onto our sides, cradling him in the arc of my body.
“Micah, Micah,” I murmured.
His lips searched, finding mine, kissing me sloppy and messy and so fucking perfect.
“You were so good. So good for me,” I whispered.
His hand crept up, fingers grazing my temple, then pushing into my sweat-soaked hair. “Tell me what you said before in Russian. Please.”
The words crept up my throat and froze. Would it ruin everything if he knew? Would it destroy this fragile thing we’d built?
But I couldn’t deny him anything. It was against my nature. Pulling back just slightly, I cupped his cheek, brushing my thumb over his dry lower lip. He chased the touch with his tongue, though I didn’t let him catch me.
“I told you I love you. It mean…the words I say…” I was struggling with language, my head a fuzzy mess. “In love. That I aminlove.”
I waited on a knife’s edge, waiting for my heart to be sliced in half, leaving me to bleed out. For him to break me by telling me that it was too much.
Or not enough.
His hand crept up between us and pressed gentlyagainst my beating heart. I could almost feel my pulse between my teeth as his fingers gently scraped over my skin.
He licked his lips, took a breath, and I nearly died waiting for him to speak. “I’ve never been in love before. I was always afraid I couldn’t fall in love. Or that I wouldn’t know it until it was over. For a while, I convinced myself I didn’t want it. That it would be too complicated. And I’m still afraid that the moment you experience me on a bad day—or a bad month—or a long streak where I don’t want to be touched like this…”
“Micah—”
