by Quin Perin
“Spread your legs for me,” he ordered, tapping the side of my thigh.
I loved it when he bossed me around. Loved it when he got so commanding. My bare feet slid across the floor, and I rested my elbows on the counter as I bent forward. “Like this?” I murmured.
“Just like that,” he breathed, kissing my tailbone. He twisted his fingers around the plug and wiggled it. “Such a good kitten.”
I purred at that, smiling. Even when we weren’t playing our fun games, Tony had taken to calling me kitten. A literal pet name that made me feel squirmy every time he used it. Tony twisted the toy, making me gasp and clench my fingers into fists. His lips rested on my ass cheek, tongue flickering over the skin. He pulled the plug out halfway before thrusting it in slowly. No rush. Languid strokes as he fucked me with the thick silver plug, taking his time and making my knees quiver.
“I’ll never get tired of this view,” he murmured. “Such a pretty picture.”
“Maybe I’ll let you take one sometime.” The words rushed out before I even thought them as I rolled my hips to meet his thrusts. There were no maybes about it. I’d let Tony take whatever pictures he wanted.
He wiggled out the plug, my entrance clenching at the empty feeling, and hummed. “I’ll take you up on that one day.”
Tony gave a long lap of his tongue, curling it and shoving the tip into me. Even after all the times he’d done this, it was still such an odd, wonderful feeling that made my cock twitch. His breath was harsh as he delved his tongue into me, moaning long and low, holding my ass cheeks open with his large hands. The sounds he made as he ate me out? Jesus, it was like I was the best thing he’d ever tasted. “Tony. F-Fuck,” I whimpered.
His beard rubbed along the sides of my cheeks, my entrance contracting around his soft and wet tongue before he leaned away and let go of my ass.
“Y’know, I think that sounds great,” he said, smirk in his voice. He rose up, body dragging against mine. “You stay right here. I’ll be back in a moment.”
A playful swat landed against the side of my ass.
“Hurry,” I cooed.
I didn’t have to tell him twice. His footsteps retreated at a rapid pace, heading toward the bedroom. Time ticked away awfully slow, but it must have only been a minute or two before Tony returned.
He’d taken off his briefs, heavy cock rubbing against my lower back and leaving a slick trail of precum. His lips found the back of my shoulder when I heard the foil of a condom packet tearing open. The sound was followed by the squeak of the latex as he slid it down over his shaft. I wished I could see what he was doing, but at least everything made enough noise so I could work it out.
There was a pop—lube opening—and I gasped as cold liquid trickled over my entrance. Lube poured directly onto my hole, followed by Tony’s fingers spreading it.
“Ready for me, kitten?”
I nodded, shoulders bunched together and teeth in my lower lip. The thick, flared cockhead rubbed across my entrance, slipping through the slickness. With his hands on my hips, Tony pushed forward while pulling me back at the same time. He popped in with mild resistance, my body tensing and then relaxing as he murmured, “S’okay...there we go.”
He wasn’t frantic. There was no rush. I tangled my fingers in my hair, holding my head and moaning quietly. Inch by inch, he sunk in. Taking an eternity and no time at all. Once he was almost in, he flourished with a sharp thrust, bottoming out and staying buried within me. His moan was gritty, rough into my shoulder, and his hair tickled over my skin.
“You feel so good.”
My agreement came out in a whimper, eyes closed tightly. I still rested against the counter, but Tony apparently planned to change that. He placed his palm on my stomach, sliding it up toward my chest and pushing until I straightened up. My fingertips barely brushed across the counter as he held me, my back against his chest. His teeth nibbled at my earlobe, and once I was in place, his fingers moved from over my heart to around my throat. He held on loosely and moved his other arm around my waist, keeping me close as he rocked into me.
Short, shallow thrusts keeping him deep. A grinding that assaulted my prostate and made my cock jerk in its confines. It drove me crazy. Overstimulation. Senses buzzing and pleasure crackling like flames across my skin. I wouldn’t last long like this, and Tony was in the same boat. His heart hammered like a drum against my chest.
I brought one hand down, tugging aside the jockstrap so my cock could bounce free. As I moved to grasp my erection, Tony slid his hand from my waist and grabbed my wrist.
“Don’t,” Tony panted, speaking directly into my ear. “That’s my job.”
Tony used his weight to pin my hips to the counter. Surely bruising me. My calves shook, heels off of the floor. He moved faster, harder. Driving home each time. He still didn’t pull out, never leaving me more than halfway. Sharp, hard thrusts smacked his hips against my ass. The lewd sound filled the kitchen, flesh slapping together. No more talking. Quiet gasps and moans fell from us. No cursing. Only whimpers and groans. It was like we were trying to become one. Like we were one.
He enveloped my cock with his hand and stroked. We moved together, his hips forcing me into his fist. His piercings dragged along my back, sweat sealing us together while his muscles bunched, his heavy body pressing into mine. Driving me toward the peak of pleasure.
My orgasm didn’t so much crash over me as it engulfed me. A warmth spread from my very core outward, making my mind go blank. Encased in a warm blanket of pleasure. Safe and secure from the world. Tingling limbs. Cock pulsing and spurting. Lungs burning. I tried to draw air in, tried to breathe but couldn’t.
Tony pressed deep, rolling his hips and stuffing me full to draw out his climax. He groaned low in my ear. I didn’t hear it so much as felt it. The vibrations of his body rumbled through me. Transcendent bliss and then rushing darkness as I dropped forward, overwhelmed with sensation. Tony’s arm slung around me instantly, and he dragged me back against him. He’d caught me. My eyes burned with tears. “Oh, Tony,” I whispered, a prayer. “Tony.”
“I got you, my little kitten. I got you.”
THIRTY-SIX
Tony
I loved mornings like this the most. Dima and I clicked. Our minds were filthy and worked in tandem, creating some of the best and dirtiest sex I’d ever had. He fueled my kinkiness, as I fueled his. Keeping my hands to myself had never been this hard.
After our early morning workout, I cleaned us both up and dressed Dima in one of my shirts, which were way too large for him. Even after all the time we’d spent together, I still couldn’t handle him being naked. He looked so adorable I had to pinch his cheeks...both sets.
“Hey!” Dima batted my hands away, the sleeves of my shirt hanging past his fingers.
I laughed and pulled him against me to plant a firm kiss on his forehead. “You take your time in here,” I told him and closed the bathroom door. I heard him whine inside. He was an oxymoron, really. Whenever I was touching him, he squirmed, and when I wasn’t, he whined.
I grinned and wiped down the kitchen counter and reassembled the mess we’d made. Thankfully, none of the eggs had been damaged, so I started on breakfast. I made toast with eggs and cheese, not as fancy as the French toast he was going for but edible. I looked in the fridge for more to add to the meal, but it was rather empty. I had offered to go grocery shopping for us, but again, Dima had refused to take me up on the offer. He would go with his grocery buddy, he’d said. I had yet to find out who that was. Still, I found it remarkable how he’d arranged his life like this. Being by himself without seeing anything had to be scary as hell.
A few minutes later, Dima plopped down on the couch and curled up under the blanket. While I had put on my pajama pants, he wore my shirt and a pair of briefs. No jockstrap this time or else we would never get to eat anything...ever.
I placed two plates of the food on the coffee table. I had also sliced up a pepper and poured us two glasses of orange juice.
I headed back into the kitchen to get the glasses and then sat down next to him. “There,” I said and took his hand. Dima accepted the plate carefully and inhaled deeply.
“Doesn’t smell half bad,” he said, feeling for the toast.
I laughed. “Excuse me?”
Dima’s grin was hidden by the piece of toast he’d picked up. I had cut it into four pieces so he could eat it more easily. Just when I was about to reach for my plate, my phone buzzed and chimed on the coffee table. I took it instead. Eric had finally sent over that recording of his brother. I smiled as it downloaded and put the phone between us. Music during breakfast. We were getting classy.
“Who is it?” Dima asked before taking another crunchy bite. I grabbed my plate and rested against the back of the couch.
“A friend’s brother is studying music in Berlin, and he sent a recording of him playing the piano. I thought you might like to hear it. Eric said he’s brilliant...really passionate about his music.” Dima nodded slowly, and before he could say anything else, the first notes cut through the air. The sound was metallic, scratchy, and yet, I was sucked in completely. I couldn’t even take a bite to eat. It was so beautiful. So fluid, so heartfelt that something deep inside me twinged. Sweet Jesus. Dima stilled beside me, lowering his plate to his blanket-clad lap.
We sat in silence. It was amazing. As if we were witnessing something profound. Something neither of us had heard before. Goose bumps prickled across my skin. It was three minutes long, but in these three minutes, all I could do was look at Dima. The music was beautiful, but he, in my shirt, with his tousled hair, lost for words, was more beautiful than anything I’d ever seen.
His dark eyes watered, teeth scraping across his bottom lip. A kaleidoscope of emotions flickered across his face. I thought he was in awe, impressed, touched by the music, but then his eyes brimmed with tears. With his next slow blinks, they fell and rolled down his cheeks.
“Dima,” I whispered, but he shook his head. Something was hurting him. Whether it had been the music or the emotions slashing through him, I didn’t know. I took our plates and placed them on the coffee table before I dragged him over to me. Closing my arms around him, I pressed my lips to his soft hair and rocked him against me.
Then he lost it completely. I had seen him upset, angry, and I had also seen him cry before. But this was different. Dima sobbed and wept into my bare chest, fingers clawing at my pants. I pulled him across my lap so his head was against my shoulder and I could hold him properly.
“What just happened?” I whispered against his hair as Dima gasped for air, drowning in his tears. The strokes of my hand against his back seemed to soothe him; the sobs became more infrequent, and rivers of tears soon began to trickle. “Baby,” I hummed and swept my thumbs across his cheeks. Dima sniffled and sobbed again, short on air.
“He…” Dima swallowed, his chest rising quickly with his swift inhales. “He has passion like I used to.”
It took me a moment to catch on. Dima had had a gift. Eric’s brother could live his, could thrive with it, whereas Dima couldn’t anymore. However much time we spent together, I would never know who Dima used to be. I let him nuzzle his face into my chest, taking calming breaths while I stared at the pictures opposite the couch. Pictures of him in various positions. Pictures of fashion models posing for him. He’d been brilliant at what he did; I saw that now. Although I knew next to nothing about photography, I knew these pictures were remarkable. Sensual, yet expressive.
I had never had a gift like him. I wasn’t a writer though I wrote—I was a traveler—but Dima had lived with his gift, had tasted it. Had known real happiness. And now it wasn’t with him anymore. It had been taken away. I hugged him harder as he shook against me.
“I-I saw my old teacher,” Dima sobbed, reaching for my shoulder and neck before his hand fell back to his lap. “She...came...to the café last week.”
Watching him come undone like this, it was as if something clawed at my heart. It was worse than any pain I’d ever known. Suddenly I knew I would do anything to make it go away. To make him happy. This was what I was here for. To protect him. To make him smile.
“Y-You know, I wasn’t always...like this.” Another sob.
My heart ached, my cheeks wet with tears that I didn’t even know I was crying. Thank God he couldn’t see me like this...
“You’re perfect,” I told him, but I felt like it never reached his ears.
“Everything was...so colorful, so bright. People said I was talented.”
I nodded and kissed his hair, blinking at the pictures he could no longer see. It hurt me physically.
“And then everything went black.”
When he said those words, his body melted into me, and the air whooshed from his lips; I felt it against my skin. Everything had gone black. Black.
What could I possibly say? I stayed silent, lost for words.
“Then you came along,” Dima sniffled, his voice soft, “and showed me that even in the darkness, there is still light.”
THIRTY-SEVEN
Dima
“How do I look?” I spun on my toes in front of Tony, showing off my outfit.
The springs in the couch creaked as Tony leaned forward. One hand slid behind me, grabbing my ass and pulling me forward.
“Sexy. As always,” he murmured, face nuzzling my stomach. “But you know you really don’t have to get all dolled up for the grocery store, right?”
I scoffed, finding his shoulders and resting my hands on them. He nuzzled into my stomach, and I hummed. “This isn’t dolled up,” I pointed out. Nice black jeans, with no holes, and a long-sleeved grey-and-black-striped thermal. I couldn’t help it if I made everything look classy. “Besides, have you ever seen me not make an effort?”
“No,” he admitted, nosing my shirt up to get at my bare skin. “You always look nice.”
He peppered kisses over my hips and beneath my belly button, making me giggle and squirm. “Stop it! Mrs. Jansen will be here soon, and you’re getting me all worked up,” I protested. I really didn’t want to go shopping with a hard-on.
Tony groaned but pulled away, tugging my shirt back down. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come with?”
We’d had to go out for lunch and dinner on Saturday evening and eat leftovers yesterday because my kitchen was so empty the only option was to eat eggs...again. I’d been so distracted by Tony I’d neglected a lot of things. He’d tried to pick things up for us, but he was terrible at grocery shopping and managed to get the exact wrong brand of everything. So first thing this morning, I’d called my grocery buddy, Mrs. Jansen, and arranged a shopping trip. Jan wasn’t too happy about me calling off work again, especially after Saturday and Sunday off, but he’d let me go without protest when I told him the only other option was that I would starve. Plus, I still had vacation days left for this year that I didn’t want to go to waste.
Mrs. Jansen had been pleased that I’d called and even scolded me a bit for forgetting about her. She was perfectly able to get to the store on her own, but she said she preferred—and felt safer—when I was there. A total lie. She was more than able to get about by herself, but she knew it made me feel better about my limitations. She went to the store plenty by herself, but when I called, she was more than willing to help me out.
Reaching to stroke my fingers through Tony’s hair, I smiled. “Can’t come. This is mine and Mrs. Jansen’s thing.” He huffed. “And you said you were going to see your sister anyway. And-and, you suck at grocery shopping.”
“I did,” Tony agreed, head pressing into my touch. “It’s so hard to pull myself away from you.”
I couldn’t help but beam at that. I understood very well. Bending down, I sought out his lips, and he met me, kissing back. His hands went around me, both on my ass now, squeezing and groping hard. I was about to flick my tongue into his mouth when a knock at the door prompted me to tear myself away from him. “Mm. Gotta go,” I said, pecking his lips once more. “I’ll s
ee you later, okay?”
“Mhm.” A final squeeze and he let go of me.
Grabbing my jacket and scarf, I headed to the door and opened it with a smile, instantly hit by the smell of her flowery perfume. “Morning!” I said brightly, tugging my jacket on and wrapping my scarf around my neck.
“Don’t forget your hat,” she scolded before even greeting me. She’d been a school teacher, and it showed in the way she spoke sometimes. She was kind, but I imagined she could command a classroom full of children without a problem. “It’s cold out there, and I don’t want you to get sick. And button that jacket.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said, snatched my hat from the hook, and pulled it down over my ears. Buttoning my jacket up quickly, I held my hands out so that she could examine me. “Good?”
Mrs. Jansen clucked her tongue against her teeth. “Yes,” she said decisively. That didn’t stop her from reaching out and straightening my jacket. “Are you ready?”
I nodded, fishing my keys out from the bowl and shoving them into my pocket. We made our way down the stairs quietly, me holding on to the railing and her holding on to me.
I’d met Mrs. Jansen when I first moved in. A slightly older lady, near my height, with long silver hair she kept in a severe-looking French braid. She always dressed smartly. Pants suits in colors that complimented her makeup and the same strand of pearls. She had made me cookies to welcome me to the apartment building, and I’d made her tea. She’d been sweet to me. Reminded me of my grandmother, who’d been my favorite person in the world when I was little. She’d died years ago. The last time I’d seen her was when I was twelve, for her funeral. When I’d started to lose my sight, Mrs. Jansen had helped out any way she could. The shopping trips had been her idea, and she seemed to enjoy taking over the maternal role.
“So who was that young man on your couch?” she asked as we pushed our way onto the cold street. She had a rolling cart she used to put her bags in, and it hummed behind us on the cobblestones.