"Property, is it?" But I was breathing differently, and we both knew it.
I put my good hand into his hair and dragged him up to kiss him. The careful went out of him the second I bit his lip. He moved overtop of me slowly, mindful of the bad hand, caging it up by my head where it couldn't get caught. I let him bear me down into the mattress before I stopped being patient and shoved my hand down his pants.
"There ye go," I said into his mouth. "Took ye long enough."
"Shut up, Fin."
"Make me. Ye know how now." I rolled my hips up against him and he made the broken sound, the one from the safehouse, the one I'd have killed to hear again every day of that flat week. "Aye. That. C'mere."
Aleksi kissed down my throat with teeth, the way I'd taught him he was allowed. His hands ran over my skin with more confidence than before, sliding down my chest, my ribs, mystomach. I sat up so he could pull my shirt off, and then he did it right, kissing the places his hands had been.
He paused halfway down and let his chin rest on my sternum before taking my good hand in his, threading our fingers together all soft like. Like we were lovers instead of a few blokes who'd fucked once.
"Ye're going to do the opposite of breaking me, if ye ever stop asking." I dug my heel into the back of his thigh. "I'll tell ye if it's wrong. I'm a mouthy bastard. Have ye met me?"
"God help me, I have."
He went back to kissing his way down my body. Past the ribs, the soft of my belly, the line of hair below the navel he'd never once let himself follow before he met me. He paused there with his breath warm on my skin like he was working up to it, and I propped myself on the bad elbow to give him hell about it.
"Shut up," he growled before I could get a word out. Then he grabbed the loose fitting sweats I was wearing and yanked them down.
He took me in his mouth before I got the rest out.
The give-him-hell died in my throat. Christ, the heat of it, the wet, his tongue working the underside like he'd been taking notes every time I'd done it to him. Clumsy, aye, too much teeth at first, but he learned fast. He pulled off to lick up the length of me, slow, his eyes coming up to find mine.
"Fuck," I breathed. "Look at ye. Mouth like that, on yer knees for me."
He took me deeper. I bit my fist to keep from making a sound that'd have Nikolai teasing him later. His big hands came up to hold my hips down when I bucked, pinning me, making me take what he wanted to give instead of the other way round.
"That's it," I said, wrecked already. "Take what ye want. Use yer hand wi' it. Aye, just like that. Christ, yer filthy when ye let yerself go."
He wrapped his fist round the base and worked me with his mouth, sloppy, eager, learning me the way he'd learned everything. My good hand went into his hair and I just held on.
He pulled off with a wet sound and licked his lips. "Tell me what you want."
"I want yer cock in me," I said, past pretending. "I want ye to fuck me till I cannae remember my own name."
His pupils blew wide. He pushed himself up my body, kissing me hard, the taste of me on his tongue. I sucked on it and he groaned into my mouth, grinding down against me, both of us still half in our clothes like teenagers.
"Get the lube, big man, and dinnae ye dare go gentle on me like I'll come apart. I'm no made of glass. I'm made of harder stuff than ye are."
"Bossy," he said. But he was already reaching for the drawer.
He slicked his fingers, and I spread for him, shameless, letting him look his fill. He pressed one finger in and I bore down on it, hungry for it.
"More," I said. "I can take it. I've taken ye before."
He added the second, and I groaned at the stretch. Six months I'd been touched like cargo. Hauled, cuffed, dosed, counted. A needle in the leg. A blade at the knuckle. Hands on me only ever to move me or hurt me, or take a piece off. I'd forgotten a hand could land on a man and mean nothing but yes. I'd forgotten the body kept a ledger of the good as well as the bad. He put his fingers in me like I was worth the time. The ledger wrote a line in the other column for the first time since they'd put me in that van.
"There," I gasped when he found my prostate. "Right there, ye bastard. Do that again."
He crooked his fingers, and the pleasure went white up my spine. My eyes stung.
"You're beautiful like this," he said. "Taking my fingers. You have any idea what you look like?"
"Shut up and fuck me properly."
"Not yet." He worked me open slowly, patient prick that he was, adding the third finger when he chose to, not a second before. The stretch burned good. I rocked onto his hand and swore at him.
