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My face went hot, and my cock jumped against his thigh, and he felt it and smiled against my skin.

He undressed me himself. He tugged my shirt up over my head and dropped it on the floor, and then he bent and took one of my nipples into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue until I gasped and grabbed his shoulders. He kissed down the center of my chest and across my stomach while his hands worked open my belt and the button of my jeans, and when he pushed them down my thighs, my cock sprang free of my boxer briefs, hard and flushed and already wet at the tip. He knelt on the rug in front of me and looked at it, and then he looked up at me with those gray eyes gone almost black.

“May I?” he said.

“God, yes. Please.”

He wrapped one cool hand around the base of my cock and licked a long slow stripe up the underside, and my knees nearly buckled. Then he closed his lips around the head and took me into his mouth, hot and wet and impossibly soft, sucking gently while his tongue swirled around the sensitive rim. I swore and shoved both hands into his hair. He sank lower, taking me deeper with every bob of his head, until the tip of my cock nudged the back of his throat, and he hummed, and the vibration made me see stars.

“Maksim, wait, wait, I’m going to come, I want you to—” I was panting. “I don’t want to come like this. I want you inside me.”

He pulled off me with a wet sound, his lips swollen and shining, and he looked up at me for a long moment. “Say that again,” he said, in a voice like gravel.

“I want you to fuck me.”

He rose to his feet, and he kissed me so hard that I tasted myself on his tongue.

I wanted to see him, so I undressed him just as slowly, unbuttoning his shirt with fingers that would not stay steady and pushing it off his shoulders. His chest was pale and smooth and sculpted, with every muscle cut as cleanly as marble. When I knelt to take his trousers down, he drew in a sharp breath, and the sight of him when he stepped free of them nearly finished me. His cock was long and thick and flushed a deep rosy pink at the head, curving up toward his stomach, and a bead of clear fluid had already gathered at the slit. It was bigger than I had let myself think about. I wrapped my hand around it, and it was heavy and silky and hot against my palm, and when I dragged my thumb through the wet at the tip, he groaned and his hand went to the back of my head.

“Lex,” he said, hoarsely. “If you continue, this will be over very quickly.”

“Good to know.” I stroked him once, slowly, base to tip, and watched his eyes flicker red at the edges. “Next time I’m going to put my mouth on you.”

“I will hold you to it,” he said, and lifted me to my feet.

We lay down together on the big carved bed, on a quilt that smelled of laundry soap and snow, with his body stretched warm along mine. He kissed my throat and my collarbone while his hand slid down my stomach and closed around my cock again, stroking me with slow, slick, maddening twists of his wrist. I thrust up into his fist and clutched at his back, and his own cock pressed hot and wet against my thigh, leaving a trail of precum on my skin. We kept kissing, open-mouthed and sloppy, grinding against each other until I was breathless and aching and so hard that it hurt.

“Now?” I begged. “Can we do it now?”

“Not yet.” He touched his forehead to mine. “There is a great deal that must come first, Lex. I will not hurt you.”

He reached for the bottle that he had bought, a small smooth bottle from the pharmacy bag, and he poured lube into his palm and warmed it for a long moment before he touched me. Then he settled between my knees, and he pushed my thighs apart and kissed the inside of one, and then the other, nipping gently at the soft skin. I felt the slick press of one finger against my ass, circling gently, not pushing. It felt strange and warm and a little embarrassing, and I threw my arm over my face. “Hey,” he said, “look at me,” and I did, and he eased the tip of his finger inside me.

It stung. I said “Icing” before I could stop myself, and he stopped at once and lifted both hands into the air, his face full of concern.

“I’m okay,” I said, mortified. “Sorry. That was a test.”

“It was a good test.”

“I wanted to see if you’d stop.”

“I will always stop.”

“I know.” My eyes stung. “That’s why I’m not scared.”

He kissed my knee, and he started again, slower. He pushed one finger into me up to the second knuckle, and he held it still while he took my cock back into his mouth, sucking me lazily, and the burn eased into a deep, full pressure that made my thighs tremble. He began to move his finger in small circles, and then he withdrew it and added more lube and slid two fingers inside me, stretching me wider, curling them upward as he went. When the tips of them found a spot deep inside me, a bolt of pleasure shot through my whole body so sharply that I shouted and arched off the mattress, and my cock throbbed against his tongue.

“There,” he murmured, lifting his mouth. “There you are.”

“Fuck. Don’t stop. Don’t stop doing that.”

“Like this?” He rubbed that spot again, slow and firm, and I made a sound I had never made in my life.

“Yes. Jesus. Yes.”

He fingered me until I was writhing, until my hips were rolling to meet his hand and I could hear the filthy wet sounds that my body made around his fingers. He added a third finger, and the stretch burned and then melted into something hot and glorious. I clutched the headboard with one hand and my own hair with the other, and I heard myself babbling, saying his name, saying please, saying more.

“Tell me what you want,” he said, low and rough.