“Leave you here like this?” Ilya teases. He kisses the side of my head and lowers his hand down to my cock. “Or maybe I will play with you. What do you think, Mishka?”
I can only get out a soft moan as he plays with my cock around the rope. “I think… you should do whatever you want to do,” I say, putting the reins firmly into his hands. I push my hips forward into the touch. “But I know what Iwantyou to do.”
“Oh, does my little Mishka have ideas?” Ilya releases my cock, and I whine in protest. Before I can complain more, he scoops me up into his arms.
I cry out and press my torso against his chest. With my arms bound, I can’t even wrap my arms around his shoulders to stabilize myself. “Ilya!”
“It’s okay, Mishka. I have you,” Ilya says as he carries me to the bed. “I won’t drop you.”
“I’m not that light!” I complain. “And you’re not that young?—”
“If you finish that thought, I might realize I’m too old to continue,” Ilya says, but his tone is light and joking. He isn’t actually insulted.
I grumble anyway. “Someone has to look out for you,” I tell him. “The last thing you need to do is hurt your back.”
“My back is fine. I know how to lift with my knees.” Ilya sets me down on the bed and crawls on top of me.
I can barely move at all, not with Ilya boxing me in and the ropes keeping my arms bound and my chest wonderfully snug.
Ilya pushes my hair out of my face and smiles down at me. “Now, do you want to tell me how old I am, or do you want me to fuck you while you’re all pretty for me?”
I squirm beneath his touch, feeling warmth spread through me as I gaze up at him. “I want you to fuck me senseless.” And I do. I don’t care that he’s older than me, or what people might think about our relationship. I only know that I want this, that I want him.
That I love him.
The thought strikes me all at once, making my heart feel full.
I know it’s early to say the words, but I want to.
“I will gladly fuck you,” Ilya answers.
He kisses my jaw, then my throat, then whatever skin is visible through the rope. He sucks on my nipples, and I gasp and arch for him. Ilya doesn’t let my movement or wriggling deter him or even change his course of action.
“Please,” I beg, attempting to lift my hips despite his weight on my thighs. My cock is still straining in its rope confines.
“Please what?” Ilya murmurs. He softly nips at one nipple while he flicks the head of my cock.
I whine, both out of frustration and desperation, wishing I could reach up and pull him down even at the same time I love that I can’t. I love that he’s made me beautiful and helpless for him. “Please touch me. I need you to touch me.”
“Hmm. Touch you where?” Ilya teases, moving his hand to the inside of my thigh. “You have to use simple English, Mishka. My English, it’s not so good.”
I scoff at him. “Fuck me,” I demand, and while I have a split second of uncertainty that I think is always going to be there when I assert myself, I dismiss it just as fast. “I need you to fuck me.”
“But you aren’t ready,” Ilya argues. I know he’s teasing me, but he’s serious too.
He has never taken me without prepping me first.
I let out another whine. “I would be ready if you weren’t teasing me so much.” I squirm beneath him, trying to spread my legs, but he has me thoroughly pinned down. “Please, Ilya!”
“I like hearing you,” Ilya murmurs.
He finally eases up, and I immediately spread my legs wide for him.
Ilya laughs and gives my hole a light slap. “My desperate Mishka.” He reaches for the lube we keep on the bedside table and drips a generous amount on my hole. “I need to go slow, because I am the old man.Anold man.” He curses in Russian. “Stupid articles.”
“You really don’t have to worry about grammar with me,” I tell him, my smile soft as I watch him. “Ever.” I try to lift my ass up. “I have other things to complain about right now, and that’s that you aren’t inside of me already.”
Ilya pushes two fingers inside me at once. “There. I am inside you.”
