by Quin Perin
“Tony, if I run into one strand of tinsel or so much as smell pine…”
My threat hung in the air, but Tony didn’t seem to care. He laughed and spun me around to face him, hands on my lower back now.
“Instead of decorating the house, can I decorate you?”
I frowned, directing my glare at him. “If you bought me a kinky elf or Santa costume, I will kick you out of here and never speak to you again,” I warned. We both knew that was a lie.
“Oh. I didn’t, but I should have,” Tony mused. His touch drifted lower, cupping both my ass cheeks.
“Tony!”
Squeezing, he pulled our hips together and kissed my pout. “I’m kidding. I’m kidding,” he soothed. “But I did find something I think we could have some fun with.”
That didn’t make me any less worried about what he was going to do. He slid one hand off of me, and the jingling started up again as he slipped his hand into his pocket.
“What is it?” I asked suspiciously.
“Hold out your hand,” Tony hummed. “And I’ll give it to you.”
Rolling my eyes, I pushed at his chest lightly so he’d loosen his grip and I could lean against the counter. “Gimme.” I huffed, giving him my hand, palm up.
Another chuckle and something cold and round dropped into my hand. I wrapped my fingers around it, shaking and pursing my lips at the sound. It was a bell. There was no mistake about it. Warm from Tony’s pocket, probably gold in color because holidays lacked originality. It was attached to what felt like a velvet ribbon. “You got me a bell?” I asked, confused.
Tony placed one finger underneath my chin, making me face him. “I got my kitten a bell,” he murmured. “Don’t you like it?”
Oh! I got it. Like a collar. He was trying to collar me.
For some reason the realization made my cheeks burn and my neck heat up. Squirming a bit, I turned my head away from him and shook the bell in my hand again. “Mm. Do you want to play with your kitty?” I finished the question with a purr.
He opened my fingers, taking the makeshift collar from me. “I always want to play with my kitten,” he said, tone singsong.
One hand pawed at his chest, and I turned around, ass rubbing against his crotch. “Put it on me.”
His gentle touch brushed against my neck and wrapped the ribbon around my throat. It had Velcro, most likely from some toy, and it fit snug against my throat. Slight pressure, not too bad. Enough to kind of turn me on. Once it was secure, he slid his hand around. Fingers pressed into the side of my throat, thumb digging in right beneath my jaw. His breath warm in my ear.
“You’re so perfect,” he whispered.
“Need to get my ears,” I murmured, unable to help the electric shivers running down my spine.
“Nu-uh. Don’t want to wait.” Tony’s voice breathed huskily in my ear, and he moved back from me. I turned toward him, but before I had a chance to reach for him, his arm was around my waist, and he swooped up my legs, taking me in his arms like a bride in some cheesy romance.
The bell made noise with each step we took toward the bedroom. I rested my head on Tony’s chest, hands sliding over the fabric of his sweater. His cologne tickled my nose, making me smile. Sometimes when he was at work, I’d lie in bed with pillows that smelled of him and drift off while waiting for him to get home. I’d become attached to him. It was worrying how much he comforted me. Made me feel good. Loved.
Tony set me on the bed and was over me in an instant. His jacket landed on the floor; I’d have to remind him to put it up later. The bed dipped at his weight, his hands on either side of my head. His lips smothered mine, tongue dancing into my mouth as his hips sealed against mine. I tossed one leg around him, arching from the bed and grinding into him. Our bodies rocked together, my cock twitching in my tight pants. “Please,” I breathed, tearing away from his kiss. Although he didn’t seem to care for the ears, I craved them. Craved to be perfect for him. “I need you, Tony.”
“Need you too,” he whispered.
He arched away from me, sitting back. His hands went to my pants, undoing them quickly. The bed shifted again as he rose off of it, taking my pants and underwear with him in one go. I slid down the bed a bit, clutching the blankets. My cock popped free. Already stiff, grazing my stomach. No one had ever turned me on like this before.
The drawer opened, the familiar sound of him getting the lube. I sat up from the bed, tugging my shirt off before sinking back into it. A ziiip let me know he was getting his pants off too. I turned my head toward his general direction and closed my eyes. “Hurry,” I muttered, hand slipping between my thighs to cup and fondle my balls.
Tony sucked in a breath through his teeth. “On your hands and knees, little kitten,” he ordered, tone soft.
I rolled over without a thought. Eager to obey. Always so eager to please him. My hands dug into the bed, chest pressed low as I curved my back and wiggled my ass faintly. Tony climbed back onto the bed behind me. The bottle of lube was set down. It rolled against my leg, and he hovered over me, grabbing my wrists. He was completely bare, hard cock rubbing against my lower back. He guided me up and then scooted me forward so I could hold on to the headboard. Satisfied with my position, his lips touched the back of my shoulder, and he straightened up.
Tony was the first guy I’d ever been with that actually liked the process of preparing me for sex. Every other one had been impatient or had expected me to take care of it myself. Tony didn’t mind the plugs I used, obviously, and neither did I of course. There were times when impatience took over, and all we wanted was get to the fun part. Yet when it was like this, when we had all the time in the world, he’d take care of me. Make sure he didn’t hurt me.
Like now. He worked his slicked fingers in. One at a time. Slow and deep. Stretching and thrusting. His teeth found my shoulder, nibbling before pressing kisses across the marks. He murmured to me. Words that didn’t matter. That I couldn’t comprehend as a haze settled across my mind. By the time he had three fingers in, my cock ached and precum drizzled from the tip.
My patience wore thin, fingers digging into the headboard as I worked back against him. He ground them deep and then scissored them out. Pain barely registered, overwhelmed by my desire. The tinkling of the bell around my neck so loud in the quiet room. “Tony.” His name dripped with my plea. Begging for benevolence. For Tony to take pity on my poor, horny soul.
And he did.
His fingers slipped out, making me squirm at the empty feeling, and he tore open a condom. Early on in my blindness, I’d learned to listen closely for certain sounds when having sex. That tearing of the foil wrapper. The squeak of the latex. Always making sure someone wasn’t trying to take advantage. With Tony, at this point, I didn’t even bother.
My head hung between my outstretched arms, and I spread my thighs, as wide as they would possibly go. So wide my balls grazed the crumpled blankets. Tony hooked one arm around my waist, his hand resting on my stomach. His breath was on the back of my neck, the head of his cock rubbing against my stretched entrance.
He pressed his hips forward and pulled me back at the same time. There was pressure for a moment and then a stinging as the tip of his cock pressed in. Even with his thick fingers having prepped me, it still hurt. He still hurt.
I whimpered, eyes closed tightly, his teeth nipping at my ear.
“Sh,” he whispered, his voice a balm to my pain. “It’s okay.”
“Slowly,” I breathed, dropping my hand to his. He turned it over, grabbing mine. “Slowly.”
Tony sunk into me.
A slow drag as he went deeper. No rush. No urgency. Some pain. Mostly pleasure. He buried his face in my neck, warm gusts of air leaving him each time he thrust his hips a little more.
My heart stalled the moment he bottomed out, as deep as he could possibly be. Like we were one. Joined. A pulse of pleasure shot through me at the thought, body clenching around him; I nearly lost it right there. He groaned loudly, his hips givin
g a jerk.
“Dima.” A panted whisper into my nape. No more pet names. His tongue rolled over my name. Savored it and caressed it.
“Tony.”
His lips grazed my jaw, and his hand fisted my cock. I folded my arm against the headboard, resting my forehead against it. Tony pulled out, nearly all the way and then sunk back in. Slow and steady. The bed creaked, accompaniment to the song the bell played. Tinkling out our lust as we rocked together. Lost in each other.
FORTY-THREE
Tony
It was right before Christmas when I found myself sitting in Jan’s café, typing away on my laptop while Sara waited tables, and I watched Dima through the window to the kitchen.
Had it only been three months?
I couldn’t believe I’d ever lived without this man.
He’d nourished the desert inside me. Made plants sprout and flowers bloom. Before him, nothing had ever felt right. Before him, I would have never considered staying put. It was different now. I needed his warmth pressed against my chest, his breath across my skin. He was like a drug, and I was hooked on him. God, if he only knew what he did to me. How he controlled the rhythm of my heart.
Every morning, when I made him coffee before he went to work, mussed-up hair and pillow crease on his face, I couldn’t help but grin like a crazy person. Even now, after weeks of living with him, I had never seen anything so beautiful. His smile was radiant, and sometimes, just sometimes, I thought I could make his sorrow go away. Maybe someday, I could.
“Oh, Tony.” I snapped out of my stupor, glancing up at my sister, who stood right beside me, eyes on my laptop. Shit...the notes I’d made...they weren’t meant to be seen by anyone.
Let me be your sight.
So you can be my heart.
Her eyes lingered on the screen for a bit longer. “Tony,” she whispered, her voice breaking. I shifted before her grasp tightened on my shoulder. Sara looked up at Dima in the kitchen and adjusted the grip on the tray she held. “You love him?”
“If I had to lose my sight for him to get his back, I would,” I said quietly, not wanting to catch anyone’s attention. The café was full, and only now, with her having shaken me out of my thoughts, had I noticed how noisy it was around us. That was the problem with being near Dima. Everything else dimmed until all I could see, all I could hear, was him.
“Oh, Tony.”
I shifted in my seat, eyes on Dima, who finished up a tray of apple crumble and snapped his fingers at Jan to come get it. I chuckled at his bossiness. A heady warmth bloomed in my chest and spread. Whenever I saw him, the sun rose, and the sky cleared. Sara kissed the top of my head and for a moment hugged me to her side. I closed my eyes and smiled.
I’d do anything to make him happy. Anything.
“Let me get you another cup of coffee.” Sara sighed and peeled herself off me.
I clapped my laptop shut when a man entered the café and Sara froze in her spot. He smiled at her, but she didn’t return the gesture. Jan steeled himself at the counter, hands firmly planted. Something was going on, but I couldn’t follow. They were speaking Dutch, tones suddenly harsh and clipped. I pushed to my feet when I watched Dima appear from the kitchen. And then it all clicked into place.
It was him. Eugene.
Dima’s head was bowed, hands constantly rubbing at his apron. Not at all like him. Then the man spoke to him. I stepped forward, but Sara grabbed my wrist to keep me from coming any closer. He wasn’t as tall as me. In fact, he was nothing like me at all. Dark hair, average height, slender, long, black coat to shield him from the cold. Expensive. Everything about him screamed expensive prick. Dima listened at the counter, Jan right beside him. He wanted to protect him.
But it was me who should protect him.
Me.
“Don’t,” Sara mouthed and shook her head. I felt nauseous. Why was he here? I wanted Dima to see me, to notice that I was right there.
“What is going on?” I blurted, out of patience, my entire body vibrating with adrenaline. Dima froze behind the counter, the expression on his face unreadable. Eugene turned and raised one eyebrow.
“And you are?” he asked as he gave me a slow once-over, taking in my tattoos, my beard, my longish hair. My tattered and well-worn clothes. I could only do so much not to bare my teeth at him.
“The boyfriend,” I replied. It made him laugh. Laugh. As if he’d never heard anything more hilarious.
“Is that right?”
“Exactly right,” I hissed and took a step closer. We were a few inches apart now, our difference in size obvious as night and day. He leaned his head to the side and gave another chuckle before he said, “Dima, a word?”
Dima
I gasped for air, and my hands smacked against the warm front of the oven as I tried to keep myself from falling. I sunk to the floor, to my knees. The heat of the oven radiated over me, my hands grasping the handle. Tears splashed down my cheeks. My whole body shook. Too much. Too much. I was falling, buried alive and unable to claw myself out.
Dima, a word?
His voice, so familiar. I’d been through so much since he’d left me, and yet the moment I heard his voice, everything rushed back. On my knees. Literally begging him not to leave. Desperate to cling to the last trace of my former life. Barely able to see by that point. Everything shadows and blurred together. He’d called me pathetic before he’d pushed me and left me alone in the darkness.
I missed you.
No calls. No messages. No anything. He’d abandoned me in this town. This strange place where I barely spoke the language. The place I’d moved to for him. And now he wanted to talk to me.
“Honey, are you okay?” Sara knelt next to me, her arm going around my shoulders. She held tight, pulling me to her side.
I shook my head and placed my hands over my face. “Why is he here?” I could hear my voice crack. “Why does this keep happening?” I’d built myself a life, and I finally felt like I was on solid ground again. Like things might be normal, a new normal but normal nonetheless. What a fucking lie.
“It’s okay,” Sara whispered. She was around my age yet seemed so much more put together. Maybe it was because she had a kid. Her maternal instinct seemed to radiate off of her. “It’s going to be okay.”
Another shake of my head and I hunched my shoulders.
Raised voices reached me from the front of the café. Eugene and Tony.
“You need to leave.” I’d never heard such venom in Tony’s voice.
“This is a public place. I’m allowed to be here.” Eugene’s cold, calm tone was all too familiar. Almost no inflection but loud enough I knew he was angry.
“This is my place,” Jan jumped in. “And I want you gone. Now.”
Silence for a long moment and then: “You can’t keep me from him.”
The bell at the front chimed, and shortly after, the kitchen door swung open. “Dima,” Tony murmured; his voice dripped with concern.
Sara pulled away from me, and Tony’s hands went under my armpits, lifting me to my feet. He moved me to face him, protective arms going around me. Lips kissed the tears on my cheeks. Trying to make it all better. He always tried to make things okay. Strong arms. Soft lips. Comforting.
“Take him home,” Sara murmured. “It’ll be fine.”
Tony sighed quietly. “Thank you.” His lips ghosted along mine. “Come on, Dima, let’s go.”
I nodded as he untied my apron, removing it carefully. He placed it next to me on the counter, nuzzling my hair before leading me out. I didn’t need sight to know people were staring. Nor did I need it to know Jan and Sara were looking at me sympathetically. It was embarrassing. I hung my head, clinging to Tony’s side. He shielded me. Kept me safe as we headed out of the café.
“Are you feeling any better?” Tony asked, kissing my hair.
“M’fine.” I curled closer to him.
We were on the second or maybe third movie of the evening. Tony’s laptop sat on the coffee table, and he
was stretched out, letting me rest into him. He was trying to make me feel better, and in a way, it worked. I could listen to the movie and his breathing, let my brain shut down. Not think. Not worry. Bury myself in Tony’s side and engulf myself in his scent.
“Sure?” he asked, hand sliding underneath the side of my shirt.
“You can stop worrying. I’m fine.”
He paused. “You sure?”
Despite everything, I snorted at that. “Stop being such an idiot,” I teased.
He shifted me onto his lap, both hands under my shirt. “Never going to stop if it makes you smile like that.”
His warm breath tickled at my lips, and I placed my arms around his neck. His hair grazed my skin, goose bumps prickling. The kiss was sweet and tender. He caressed his tongue against mine, holding me close. It scared me how frequent these tender moments had become. Almost as common as our play. As our wild, frantic rutting.
I was sliding my hand under his shirt, seeking out his piercings when someone buzzed the doorbell. He groaned, hands tightening on me. “Don’t get it.”
“Could be something important,” I murmured, digging my nails into his stomach.
“More important than this?”
“No.” I laughed. “But something important nevertheless.”
He clung to me, but I shuffled away. “I’ll be right back. Okay?”
His whining accompanied me to the door. Grinning like the lovesick fool I denied I was, I pressed the button and leaned against the door frame, waiting.
I felt Tony’s eyes on me, so I arched my back a bit and wiggled my ass.
“Unfair.” He huffed.
I giggled, and when someone rapped sharply at the door, I pulled it open. “Yes?”
“Dima, I’m here to talk.”
Eugene.
I literally heard time shrieking to a halt, and my hand tightened on the door. I should have slammed it in his face. Should have kicked him in the balls and then pushed him over. Made him feel as small as he had made me feel. It was what he fucking deserved.