He fights against the lack of breath. Against his emotions. His tongue darts out and he swipes his bottom lip, eyes widening as he stares up at me. He doesn't stop me from squeezing his throat.
“I think I u—understand,” he finally whispers, his voice rasping from the pressure.
I click my tongue. “I don't think you do.”
Releasing his throat only to turn him, I press him until his cheek meets the cold tile with a gasp. I keep one palm firmly on the back of his neck, pinning him there while the shower spray beats against our skin. The stone is freezing against his face while I'm still burning with the adrenaline of the basement.
Cutting him off by nipping at his neck, I press my teeth in just enough to leave another mark. He shudders under me when I lick the sting away and nudge his legs apart with my thigh. “I’mgoing to fuck you, krasavchik, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.”
Keeping my lips to his skin, I press a palm on the curve of his ass. Jonah arches his back and bares his throat. I nip at the skin, humming when he mewls. This is how I ground myself. Using his body to erase the scent of Sokolov's fear. Moving to the corner of his mouth, I lick his puffy lips and demand entry. He opens for me with a moan as my tongue curls around his. Grabbing his hips, I pull him closer until our bodies touch, then I press my cock between his cheeks and rub it over his rim while my hand searches for the lube.
He kisses me deeper. Water runs down our faces and our lips are sliding. Moving my hand from his hip back to his throat, I keep my palm flat against his windpipe. Leaning into him, I use my weight to pin him against the tile and restrict his breathing. The air in the shower is already thick with heat, and my hand makes it vanish entirely. “This is what danger feels like,” I murmur against his mouth.
Jonah’s eyes flutter. His fingers claw at my shoulders, not to push me away, but to find an anchor as his lungs labor for air. The lack of oxygen makes his body go pliant, opening for me in a way he never does when he’s thinking straight. I slide a slicked finger in. Jonah bucks his hips, rocking against me. I don't give him time to adjust, sliding in a second finger and feeling the rhythmic pulse of him.
“Such a good boy,” I whisper against his ear. “That’s it. Relax for me. Let me in.”
Jonah moans, a long, low sound that vibrates against the tile. “F—fuck, Viktor.”
“I know what you need. We’re nearly there.”
I scissor him open, taking my time with the feeling of his hole sucking in my fingers. His muscles clench around me.
“Need you.” Jonah’s cheek is pressed to the tile as he lifts his gaze to mine. He looks wrecked already and I’ve barely started. His heart beats fast enough that I feel the vibration through the marble, a frantic rhythm that matches my own.
“I know, krasavchik.”
Pulling my fingers free, I slide them into my mouth, moaning as I lick them clean.
Jonah’s lips wobble. “You taste fucking divine.”
My grip on his throat tightens and the pressure cuts off his speech, but leaves enough room for him to gasp. I want him focused on the air and I want him focused on me. Leaning my weight into him, I pin his neck against the wall.
“You take everything I give you. You open for me and you listen because you’re so good for me.”
His face flushes a deeper red as his breath hitches. He claws at my forearm and his nails leave white lines in my skin. It isn't a fight, it's a plea. He’s chasing the high of the restriction. I watch his throat work as he tries to draw in a lungful of steam and water.
“Tell me,” I murmur, leaning my mouth to his ear while my other hand guides my cock to his entrance. “Tell me who you belong to while you still have the breath to say it.”
Jonah’s head thrashes against the tile. “You,” he wheezes.
He lets me pull him from the wall and turn him until his back hits the tile. Warm water cascades over us. Hoisting him up, I spread his legs around my waist and guide my cock to his opened hole. After a final drop of lube, I guide the flared tip inside. Jonah’s muscles tighten as he watches my cock disappear into him. The hot water acts as a second lubricant, washing over the joining as I seat myself to the hilt.
“That’s it. Look at that pretty hole swallowing me.” Shifting my grip, I slide my hand up until my thumb and forefinger catch the hinges of his jaw. I squeeze, forcing his mouth to hang openwhile the rest of my palm stays heavy against his windpipe. I don't let him look away. The roar of the spray drowns out the world, leaving nothing but the friction of our wet skin and the heat where I'm buried inside him.
I tip his chin higher and part his lips further with the pressure of my palm, spitting onto his tongue. “Show me.”
He sticks out his tongue. I groan and then dive in to devour his mouth, sliding the final inches inside him. From this close, I see how his eyes are flared and how water beads on his lashes. Tightening my grip under his thighs, I push him higher on the wall. His breath breaks. His knuckles clutch my shoulders and his nails dig in. I tip my forehead to mine while my breath crowds his mouth. “Tell me if it’s too much.”
He shakes his head immediately. His heel digs into my back, pulling me in. I thrust once, and his moan slips out unfiltered.
“Good.”
Drawing back halfway, I drive in again. Heat clamps around me. He gasps and tries to breathe, but his chest stutters against mine. I keep my hand high on his throat, applying just enough pressure to keep his air thin. His forehead drops to mine and his lips tremble.
“Viktor, please.”
“Please what? What do you need?”
