The pressure builds, coiling tighter and tighter. My cock stiffens. I gasp his name as warm cum shoots across my chest. I collapse back, trying to catch my breath, my vision blurring from the intensity. His tongue drags up my stomach, licking up the mess I made.
The sensation makes me chuckle breathlessly. He works his way higher—across my chest to my nipple. Bites it gently and then moves over and bites my other one gently. Then he’s on me, mouth crashing into mine, making me taste myself on his tongue.
His hard cock presses against my chest. He reaches down, gathers what’s left on my stomach, and smears it over his cock. Starts jerking himself, eyes locked on mine the entire time.
“You taste incredible,zaychik. I’m never getting enough of this.”
He groans, eyes shut tight. Hot spurts of cum hit my chest, then my neck. His forehead drops against mine. He stays hovering over me, careful not to press against my injuries.
He walks off and returns with a warm washcloth. Cleans me first, careful and thorough, fingers brushing over the bruises like he’s checking them. Then he cleans himself quickly and climbs into bed.
We eventually end up curled together with our feet tangled, my head resting on his chest while his arms wrap around me. I listen to his heartbeat, and the steady rise and fall of his breathing soothes me enough that I’m about to drift off to sleep.
“You know you can’t just shut me up with an orgasm every time I get mad at you,” I mutter. “What doeszaychikmean by the way?”
He presses his lips against my forehead. “Little bunny.”
Oh.
There’s something about how gentle he is with me that’s making me remember what it felt like before David taught methat kindness comes with a price. He’s awakening this fragile, terrifying hope that maybe someone can want to take care of me without wanting to destroy me. The feeling spreads warmth through my chest, and I’m not sure if I should trust it or run from it.
“That’s actually kind of sweet,” I admit quietly against his skin.
He hums. “You are small, soft, and mine.”
I keep smiling like an idiot against his chest. God, he’s solid. The muscle underneath my cheek makes me want to just melt into him.
“Did you like the bike?”
“Yeah.” I pause. “I just … I’m not used to people buying me things. It’s a lot. But thank you.”
His hand moves through my hair. “You don’t like gifts?”
“It’s not that. It’s just …” I struggle to find the words. “Nobody’s ever just given me something like that before. Without expecting anything back.”
“I don’t expect anything back.”
“I know. That’s what makes it weird.” I huff out a laugh against his skin. “Good weird, though.”
He doesn’t answer, but I know he’s working through it in his head. I shift topics before he can ask more questions. “Will you tell me something? I like hearing your voice. Tell me something about your family.”
“My older brother Yulian has this ancient hoodie he’s weirdly attached to. Uses it as a pillow, holds it when he’s stressed. He came at me once for touching it, so I threw him through a window. Shattered the whole thing. Still don’t know what that’s about, but I’m saving that information for the right moment.”
A smile tugs at my lips, then his words register. “Wait, what do you mean saving that information? For what?”
“It’s ammunition for blackmail,” he murmurs. “Mikhail and Daniil used to steal our weed when they were teenagers. They’d sneak out to the roof and smoke, thinking they were clever. I could smell it from my room the whole time. Yulian blamed me and Lev for months. I let him. That one’s for the next time Mikhail pisses me off.”
It sounds exhausting having so many brothers. I was definitely made to be an only child. I’ve never been in a position where I needed blackmail material on anyone, but I have to admit, it sounds kind of fun.
“Are you close with all your brothers?”
“Da, I guess. We clash constantly. Too many big personalities in one family. Yulian runs his mouth, Mikhail gets physical and follows Daniil around like a lost puppy, Lev tries to control everything, and I just want everyone to shut up. Someone’s always angry at someone else.”
“Your family sounds intense.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” he says, and I can hear the dry amusement in his voice.
“What about your mom?”
