“Dirty, dirty little piggy,” he rasps before withdrawing while his cock is still hard. An odd emptiness comes as a shock, and I stiffen when I lift my hips, feeling something drizzle out of me.
“Don’t move,” he warns, scrambling behind me while I tremble, frantically trying to keep the hot cum inside me despite some dripping down my balls.
The flash of a camera reflects off the tiles.
“Now look over your shoulder. Look at me.”
I don’t even question it, dazed as I look back. He takes a few more photos, but I’m half lucid and missing him. “Come back?” I plead, and can’t help rocking my stiff cockagainst the floor. Knowing I’m slick withhiscum makes my need even more unbearable.
He blinks, face dark with arousal, but he drops the camera and pulls me to my knees. “You’re so fucking hot right now. You are blooming,” he whispers, licking my cheek as he rubs my chest with one hand and grabs my cock with the other. I stiffen against him, out of breath even before his lips are on mine.
My arms lock into place around his neck as I press against him in an instant, never wanting to let go. Sure, the fuck was hot and dirty, but also so vulnerable, and all I want is to be close to him. I dive into the kiss, eyes closed, nose full of his overwhelming scent, and all it takes is a few tugs on my cock as he teases my nipple for me to be completely unmade in his hands.
I moan into his mouth, bones like jelly, his cum dripping down my thighs.
He has no idea what monster he’s awoken in me, but right now, the monster wants to cuddle.
“That felt so good,” I whisper, so much more at ease talking about sex than before.
He slides back, taking me with him, until he’s the one resting prone on the cool floor while I enjoy the warmth of his sturdy form. “Uh-huh,” he mumbles, blinking, as if he were on the brink of falling asleep. “You sucked all life force out of me.”
Yet he still has enough energy to reach to my ass and slide his fingers over my crack. I can’t even feel embarrassed. I’m proud of myself for taking the leap. I’m glad he fucked me hard. And I don’t mind that I’m full of spunk. I’ll just wash later. It makes me giddy to have a piece of him inside me. My stomach is all fluttery with glee, and I’m elated as I nuzzle Sevastyan’s cheek.
It feels as if shedding my fear around this kind of sex has given me a sense of peace. I’ve never felt closer toanyone than this. “Nap before more work?” I suggest, cuddled up on top of his sturdy body. This is fucking heaven.
I don’t ever want to leave. For all I care, I am now lost to the world, one of those unsolved missing person cases.
My man—because that’s how I choose to think of him now—blinks again and shakes his head. “Go ahead, but I’m too inspired to sleep. I’ll clean up here, and wake you up when I’m ready to paint.”
“Guess I’ll go shower?”
“No!” Sevastyan says sharply, but then his expression softens. “I want you like this. Pretty, messy, flushed, and full of my cum.”
I bite my lip and nod. Whatever he wants, he’ll get.
Chapter 13
Sevastyan
Victor’swatchingmelikea puppy. As though I’m his whole universe, and the world beyond the walls of my kitchen might as well cease to exist. He’s sitting on the counter, while I stir the pot of chicken soup. It’s nice to have someone to share food with. I did not check the time, but it’s never this quiet unless it’s the middle of the night, and I praise myself for always making enough food to freeze for later. The pelmeni go into the pot, and soon enough, Victor’s eyes will once again shine with admiration.
Why yes, I’m not only a fantastic artist and a proficient killer, but a great cook too! Spending so much time away from home creates a sense of nostalgia for familiar flavors, and Mom made sure I learned all her family recipes.
My gaze drifts to Victor.
He’s so fucking beautiful like this—well-fucked, with his orange hair damp from our shower, and so greedy for me, I imagine he’s counting seconds until he gets to sit in my lap again. For now, the sketchbook in his hands has to suffice. Still, he strokes my thigh with his foot.
After we both came, I drew him for what felt like hours, and I should have locked him in his room by now, but Ican’t get enough of his company. So we bathed together, talked about the day’s work, and he’s looking through the sketches. Half of his attention is always on me though.
It’s nice to have someone around who appreciates not just the finished painting, but the process. It could, of course, all be an act as he waits for the moment to strike, so I’m always aware of his movements and remember the number of knives in the kitchen.
But when was I last so creatively voracious?
Maybe when I first had some money and free time in Vienna to visit as many galleries as I liked? But that felt different from the raw desire to transfer Victor’s likeness onto paper, canvas, board... any surface capable of reflecting his big, innocent eyes, the shy smile, the radiance of the lusty joy coursing through his slender form.
I’m not used to making people happy. Most of the time, a confrontation with me puts an end to a man’s life, but keeping Victor alive might have been one of my better choices. His face brightens whenever I enter the room, and he leans closer whenever I sit nearby. I’m well aware of his obsessive nature, after all, that’s why he ended up here in the first place, but do I really mind when I’m the center of his attention?
I pour the soup and meat dumplings into two bowls, then add a large dollop of sour cream and gesture at our late-night meal. “My mother would always prepare this when I returned home late,” I tell him and nod at the dining table.
