When I nipped at the lobe, his whole body shuddered, and somewhere in the kitchen, a small appliance whirred to life unbidden.
Keeping my mouth on his hot skin, I tugged his pants down roughly, lifting him slightly to pull them off completely.
He sat before me now in nothing but his underwear, perched on my kitchen island like some debauched feast. The refrigerator hummed aggressively in the background, its motor working overtime in response to Mishka's heightened emotions.
"Beautiful," I murmured as I leaned back and then ran my palms up his thighs, feeling the muscles tense beneath my touch.
Mishka's response was to reach for my belt, his fingers working with surprising dexterity to unfasten it. "Too many clothes," he complained, pushing at the waistband of my pants.
I obliged him, stepping back just enough to rid myself of the restrictive garment. When I returned to him, pressing between his spread thighs, the thin fabric of our remaining clothing did little to disguise our mutual arousal.
The overhead lights flickered wildly as Mishka pulled me down for another kiss, this one even more desperate than the last. His legs wrapped around my waist, heels digging into my lower back to urge me closer. I complied eagerly, grinding against him with a growl that was more bear than man.
Around us, the kitchen had become a symphony of electronic disturbance. The microwave beeped erratically, the refrigerator cycled on and off, and the digital clock on the stove flashed random numbers.
I barely noticed, too consumed by the taste and feel of the man in my arms. My hands roamed possessively over Mishka's body, mapping every curve and plane as if committing them tomemory. His skin was hot beneath my palms, a stark contrast to the cold marble he sat upon.
When my fingers brushed against his nipples, he arched into the touch with a moan that sent fresh heat pooling in my groin.
I bent to replace my fingers with my mouth, taking one hardened peak between my lips. The sound Mishka made was half-gasp, half-sob, his fingers tightening painfully in my hair.
The coffee maker across the room suddenly gurgled to life, water bubbling through its system without being turned on.
"Nicolai," he panted, my name a plea on his lips.
The sound of it—my actual name, not my title or some fearful honorific—triggered something primal in me. I surged up to reclaim his mouth, kissing him with all the hunger and possession my bear demanded.
My hands slid down his sides to grip his hips, my fingers nearly spanning his waist completely. The size difference between us was striking—my broad, muscled frame dwarfing his slender one. Yet there was nothing fragile about the way he responded to me, matching my intensity with his own fierce desire.
I trailed open-mouthed kisses down his neck to his chest, tasting the salt of his skin, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath my lips. My bear demanded I mark him, claim him visibly as mine. I struggled against the urge, settling for gentle nips that made him squirm but wouldn't leave lasting evidence.
Mishka's back arched against the cold marble as my mouth traveled lower, his fingers alternating between gripping my hair and shoulders. The lights above us pulsed in time with his ragged breathing, creating a strobe effect that somehow heightened every sensation.
"Please," he whispered, his voice breaking on the word.
It was the sweetest sound I'd heard in a century of existence—this proud, defiant young man reduced to pleading by mytouch. My bear roared in satisfaction, but the man in me wanted more. Wanted everything he was willing to give.
I looked up the length of his body, taking in the flush that had spread across his chest to his face, the way his eyes had darkened to a forest green, pupils blown wide with desire.
"Tell me what you want," I demanded, my voice barely recognizable to my own ears, roughened by lust and the bear's influence.
Mishka met my gaze unflinchingly, his electronic abilities making the lights around us burn almost painfully bright as he answered with surprising boldness.
"Everything," he said. "I want everything you can give me."
His answer resonated through me like a physical force. I had never wanted anyone with the ferocity that consumed me now. My bear—typically content to observe human interactions with detached amusement—roared its approval, clawing at my control with desperate intensity.
I reached for the final barrier between us, hooking my fingers in the waistband of his underwear and dragging them down his legs.
My mouth went dry at the sight of him—all pale skin and lean muscle, flushed with desire and spread before me like an offering on my kitchen island.
I shed my own remaining clothing, watching Mishka's eyes widen appreciatively as they traveled down my body. Unlike many who encountered my true size, there was no fear in his gaze—only hunger that matched my own.
"Are you sure?" I asked, my voice barely human, roughened by the bear's influence.
His response was to reach for me, wrapping his slender fingers around my wrist and pulling me back between his spread thighs. "A hundred years of self-control is enough, don't you think?"
The impertinence of him—challenging me even now.
