Dimitri grunted, somehow pounding into him harder until Arlo’s toes were curling and he couldn’t stop the breathless cries escaping his lips. He reached beneath him, moaning with relief when he took himself in hand, jerking his aching cock in time with Dimitri’s punishing thrusts. It only took three or four pulls, and then Arlo was crying out, spilling his release onto the comforter below.
Dimitri groaned. “Holy fuck, I can feel you coming. You’re so fucking tight. Jesus,” Dimitri muttered almost to himself. Arlo dropped his head, his fingers curling into the pillows as Dimitri continued to use him, for once finding the experience empowering. He was making Dimitri feel good. Him. Arlo. His body was bringing him pleasure. If he could have grown hard again, he would have.
Dimitri’s hips fell off-rhythm, his fingers digging into Arlo’s hipbones as he pulled him close, fucking into him with tiny aborted thrusts before grinding his hips against his ass with a hoarse shout. Arlo could feel him coming, could feel his cock throbbing inside him. What would that feel like without the condom between them?
Dimitri became a dead weight, forcing him flat against the mattress as he panted on top of him. Arlo grimaced as he felt Dimitri pull free, shifting to get rid of the condom somewhere over the side of the bed. Arlo couldn’t bring himself to care enough about where or how.
When Dimitri fell back onto the mattress, he gathered Arlo against him. “You’re all slippery,” he said with a laugh.
“Whose fault is that?” Arlo asked, too cum-drunk to worry about monitoring his responses.
“Mine.” They lay there for a few minutes before Dimitri asked, “Was it good?”
Arlo glanced up at him, incredulous. “Are you kidding? It was amazing.” Dimitri preened. “Was it good for you?” Arlo asked, chest tight.
“It was better than I’d imagined and I have a great imagination.”
Arlo wondered if it would ever stop feeling weird that Dimitri wanted him—had seemingly always wanted him—just as much as Arlo wanted him.
“What do we do now?”
“We wait for my mother to contact us. Why don’t you take a nap? It’s been a long day.”
“I thought psychopaths were selfish?” Arlo blurted.
“I’m a well-trained psychopath. My mother has been coaching me on being a good person, a good boyfriend, a good husband, father, and humanitarian since I was five. It takes every ounce of my strength not to be selfish with you.”
“I wouldn’t mind you being a little selfish with me,” Arlo admitted.
Dimitri grinned. “Noted. Get some sleep.”
The call from his mother came in a few hours before dawn. “Get to the warehouse and wait for further instructions,” she said, then disconnected.
Await further instructions.She didn’t even sound like his mom anymore. She sounded like his handler. Her disappointment was obvious, and he understood why. She’d sacrificed everything for him, and no matter how much she loved her work, this had to feel like a slap in the face to her.
Would she ever go back to being proud of him, or had this ruined him in her eyes forever? If he could feel regret, would that make her more inclined to forgive him? He needed to fix it, but it would have to be later. After they finished this.
Dimitri glanced down at Arlo curled into a ball beside him. He slept so peacefully, red lips parted as he snored softly. Dimitri couldn’t stop himself from dipping his head to brush his lips over Arlo’s slack mouth. Arlo made a happy sound at the back of his throat, lips parting for Dimitri, even in sleep. Something flared to life inside Dimitri as he gently rolled Arlo onto his back, deepening the kiss, dick hardening as Arlo’s tongue slid over his.
Fuck.
Arlo was so responsive, so open, letting Dimitri take what he wanted, letting him swallow every breathy whimper. Dimitri had been waiting his entire life for this, for Arlo to be just his. He thought Dimitri wasn’t selfish, but he was wrong. Dimitri wanted every single part of Arlo—his body, his heart, his soul. He wanted thoughts of him to consume Arlo the way thoughts of Arlo consumed him.
But for that to happen, Arlo had to heal, had to talk to somebody more qualified than Dimitri to process all the shit the universe had dumped on him. But no therapist would ever take Arlo away from him. Not now, not after everything. Even if never seeing Dimitri again was the best thing for Arlo.
Dimitri didn’t harbor any murderous impulses, had never longed to unleash the darkest parts of himself on the world at large, but therewasdarkness in him, a deep, throbbing need to be the center of Arlo’s universe. His sole focus.
Did that make him a bad person? Arlo was his entire world. And Dimitri would keep Arlo safe. But he couldn’t do that if he wasn’t there. He’d already lost eighteen years with him. That was enough. Never again.
When Arlo’s hands reached out blindly, Dimitri rolled on top of him, settling between his parted thighs, growling when he realized Arlo was already hard. He rocked his hips against Arlo’s, smiling when his lids fluttered open, his arms raising to encircle Dimitri’s neck.
“Hi,” Arlo said, voice rough with sleep, tugging Dimitri back down, slanting their mouths together, as he wrapped his legs around his waist, locking his ankles just above Dimitri’s ass.
They needed to go. His mother was waiting for them to get to the warehouse, but Arlo was rutting against him, making needy little desperate sounds that went straight to Dimitri’s already straining dick. There was never any question which route he would choose.
He deepened the kiss, gathering Arlo close, rocking against him with intention. Arlo moaned into his mouth, rising to meet each rolling movement of his hips until the rough catch of skin on skin became a smooth slide, eased by sweat and precum. Dimitri’s movements grew frantic until they were no longer kissing, just breathing against each other’s lips.
“Oh, fuck,” he whispered, when the heat gathered at the base of his spine and he hit that point of no return. “I’m gonna come.”
