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“No,” Dmitri said. “No. I like knowing you want me. I like being…I like being important to you like that. It feels selfish and shitty, because I can’t give you the same thing…”
“You do. In exactly your way, you want me back,” Raphael told him, cupping his face in both hands. “It’s not the same, but it’s equal. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.” He gave a small thrust, and Dmitri’s hands tightened on him. “It’s…touching you makes me want to come.”
Dmitri pulled his head back, but he pushed his hips forward. His cock was soft against Raphael’s thigh, but his cheeks were heated. “Come, then. Let me make you come.”
Raphael’s lips parted to protest, but he was kissed again, and then again, and then again until he was dragging his clothed cock against Dmitri’s thigh. “I’m close.” And he was. Gott im Himmel, he was so close, and it hadn’t been like that since he was young, and his hormones were raging inside of him.
“I like watching this. I like watching you getting off. I like knowing you feel good, and I like knowing that it’s me doing it,” Dmitri murmured, his words a slow, steady stream not even half-close to erotic, yet one of the sexiest things Raphael had ever heard.
His balls tightened, and he groaned, then Dmitri kissed him as his hips stuttered, and he spilled against the inside of his pajama pants. He sobbed against Dmitri’s mouth, clutching tight for a second, then his legs began to spasm hard enough he had to pull back so he didn’t hurt the love of his life.
“Fuck,” Dmitri said. “Are you okay?”
“It always happens after,” Raphael told him, though normally it wasn’t this bad. He grimaced, the pain rippling up his spine, but it paled in comparison to the pleasure he still felt echoing in his limbs. He was exhausted, and he was sticky, and he was so in love it made his head spin. “Just give me a minute.”
“How about a massage?” Dmitri said.
Raphael almost told him not to bother, but in truth, he’d denied himself Dmitri’s touch for so long, it was impossible to say no. He was experiencing overwhelming, perfect moments right then he had only dreamed of, and it would take a while to realize this was his reality.
Now, and maybe forever.
“I have lotion,” Raphael managed. The spasms were making his stomach clench, stealing his breath, but it was enough. Dmitri climbed over him and dug around in the nightstand, returning with the tea tree bottle. The scent was enough to promise relief, and Dmitri’s hands were instantly soothing—the perfect drag of fingertips over his spastic muscles, which sent waves of calm through his body. “I should have let you do this before.”
“Yes,” Dmitri said. “But then you would have panicked and told me you loved me. Then you would have run.”
Raphael’s mouth dropped open, then he flopped back, his head hitting the pillow hard with his frustration, because Dmitri was right. He would have caved—which was why he’d avoided it—but he also would have panicked and ruined everything.
The last year and a half was a necessary distance between him and Dmitri. The time apart, the restraint—all of it—made Dmitri a more precious commodity than before. And Raphael would die before letting him go.
He sat up, grabbing for Dmitri, pulling the younger man on top of him. He framed his face with his trembling hands, and then he kissed him. He let all of his desperation, his need, his want, his gratitude, pour into that kiss until there was nothing left in himself except utter and absolute devotion.
“Ich liebe dich,” he murmured against Dmitri’s swollen lips. “Until the end of time.”
Dmitri clung to him with white knuckles and shaking breath, and he kissed him. Raphael took in everything Dmitri gave—all those same frantic emotions, and he let them settle behind his ribs, filling those empty spaces. It was perfect.
He was perfect.
“What now?” Dmitri asked.
Raphael bustled him to the side, curling around him, and he reached for the lamp. His body was still wracked with small spasms, but the massage and the medication were working, and tension was giving way as he settled in. He breathed out and pressed his nose to the back of Dmitri’s neck. “Everything,” he murmured. “After this, it’s everything.”
22
Dmitri arrivedon campus after his prayers to have school closed went unanswered. Dmitri had managed to find parking close to the little bridge that led to campus. He momentarily wished he lived somewhere that was slick with ice so he would fall and brain himself. Then he’d have an excuse to miss more class and not face Rian.
And maybe not fail.
He felt a little braver though, after his long weekend with Raphael. Roman told him not to bother coming in since the paperwork was finished and there was nothing to be done since the ATV was out of commission. He worked a couple of extra shifts at Wilder’s to keep his power on, but he spent his nights with his cold toes tucked into the back of Raphael’s calves, and indulged in gentle back massages and sweet kisses that warmed him better than any heater and any fire.
Raphael didn’t keep his hands off, but he didn’t come again, and Dmitri had worried about it until Raphael assured him his sex drive wasn’t high. “I’m on a lot of medication right now, and even before, I wasn’t always horny.”
Dmitri snorted and blushed, but accepted Raphael’s soothing kiss. “I just don’t want you to hold back.”
“I won’t,” Raphael had promised, cupping his face. “For now, though, this is enough. It’s all I want.” And Dmitri believed him, more than he had ever believed anyone.
It was what gave him the strength to face down Rian that morning—an hour before his first exam—with a cup of coffee clutched between his hands and the long hallway to the teacher’s offices ahead. Raphael had given him a kiss for luck, and Dmitri let himself feel the echo of his lips before he took a breath and then forced one foot in front of the other.
He had started to consider Rian more than just a professor before things got serious with Raphael—and he knew that it was mostly his fault for pulling away. Raphael insisted they hadn’t been in love, that no one’s heart had been at risk, but Dmitri had never been on this side of things before and honestly, he couldn’t imagine anyone not being in love with Raphael.
