“I don’t care.” I arch into his touch. “I only care about you.”
His fingers find my nipple, already hard. He rolls it between thumb and forefinger, and I gasp.
“You’re still weak,” he says. “Your body needs recovery time.”
“My body needs you.”
Something shifts in his expression. The clinical detachment fractures, and underneath I see hunger.
He moves over me, careful of my weakened state. His mouth finds my neck, my collarbone. Each kiss sends sparks through my nervous system.
“Tell me to stop,” he says against my skin. “Tell me to stop and I will.”
“Don’t stop.” I wrap my arms around him. “Don’t ever stop.”
He pushes the smock up. I’m already hard.
His hand wraps around my cock, and I cry out.
“Quiet,” he murmurs. “The surveillance feeds?—”
“I don’t care. Let them hear.”
He strokes me slowly, learning my responses. His thumb swipes across the head, spreading the moisture. My hips buck off the cot.
“Please,” I say. “Please, Alexei.”
His hand wraps around my cock, stroking in time with his thrusts. I’m already close.
“Together,” he breathes. “I want us to?—”
I don’t let him finish. I pull his mouth to mine and kiss him as my orgasm crests, swallowing his groan as he follows me over the edge. We come together, tangled and trembling.
He doesn’t pull away immediately. He stays inside me, stays pressed against me. My body is trembling. The edges of my vision have gone gray.
“Nikolai.” His voice is sharp. “Your color?—”
“I’m fine. Just dizzy.”
He eases me down onto the cot.
“The surveillance,” I murmur eventually.
“I disabled the feeds for this room before I entered. The official record will show a gap. Equipment malfunction.”
“You planned this.”
“I planned for the possibility.”
He gets up. He retrieves a cloth and cleans us both.
“Rest,” he says again.
He walks to the door.
At the threshold, he pauses. He doesn’t turn around.
“Nikolai.”
