“Of course not,” Sebastian said as Vlad smeared the rest of the lube on his hole. “You’re the definition of straight. Straighter than straight—ngh—” His words turned into a quiet moan as Vlad pushed inside him.
“Wait,” Sebastian said, panting heavily. “Gimme a sec.”
Vlad wasn’t certain he could. He gritted his teeth at the tightness around his cock, his vision swimming with want. He buried his face against Sebastian’s sweaty nape, mouthing the skin there, desperate to move, to fuck. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so desperate to fuck someone, get his cock inside them, and fuck, fuck, and fuck.
“Come on,” Sebastian said finally, relaxing. “Move.”
Thank fuck.
Vlad pulled back and then pushed in, fingers gripping the soft flesh of Sebastian’s ass.
“Oh,” Sebastian breathed, leaning his forehead against the door and pushing his ass back onto Vlad’s cock. God, the way he looked...Sheer black shirt ending just above his flawless ass, black jeans pulled down his muscular, shapely thighs, long, endless legs...Fuck.
Vlad had to fuck him. He just had to. So he did, grunting as he thrust into the perfect tightness—perfect tightness of a man’s ass, fucking hell—biting and kissing Sebastian’s neck, fingers leaving bruises on his fair skin.
Neither of them were particularly quiet, groaning and grunting as Vlad pounded into Sebastian, their moans becoming obscenely loud—
It took Vlad several moments to realize the banging he could hear was coming from the outside: someone was banging on the door, wanting to use the loo.
He went rigid, cock still inside Sebastian. Shit. Someone was just on the other side of the door while he had his cock in another man. Shit.
“Don’t you dare stop,” Sebastian rasped, sounding completely fucked out. “Please—please, don’t stop. So good.”
Vlad’s hips moved out of their own volition, his cock pistoning in and out of Sebastian’s hole as someone demanded to be let inside the restroom. It was wrong, sick, perverted, but he couldn’t stop, could do nothing but want and take. He barely registered Sebastian stroking his own cock desperately, whines slipping out of his mouth as Vlad thrust harder inside him. “Yeah, there—come on—harder,” he croaked out, and Vlad fucked him harder, rotating his hips a little, feeling like he’d die if he had to stop.
“Harder,” Sebastian demanded, whining.
God, he was fucking insatiable, born to take a cock.
Vlad gritted his teeth, fucking Sebastian at a brutal pace now, like an animal fucking a bitch in heat. Finally, Sebastian cried out and went boneless against the door. He came, Vlad realized dazedly. He’d made another man come on his cock.
“Fucking perverts, get a bloody room,” yelled the man on the other side of the door. “Faggots!”
His body shuddered with perverse arousal and Vlad found himself coming, too, groaning quietly.
It took him several long minutes to regain brain function.
The first thing he registered was music. A club. They were in the club. And he just had sex with a man.
Vlad opened his eyes. His mouth was still on Sebastian’s nape.
He stepped back slowly, looking at the red bite marks on Sebastian’s neck.
He pulled the condom off, tied it, and threw it into a trash bin. Turning his back to Sebastian, he did his fly, his fingers slow and clumsy. He could hear movement behind him, a grunt, a rustle of clothes.
His body rigid, Vlad waited for the other man to say something mocking. He tried to think of his answers. I’m not a homo. This was a mistake. This is your fault. I’m not gay. I’m a normal, heterosexual man.
But Sebastian said nothing. The next thing Vlad heard was the sound of the door opening and closing.
When he turned around, Sebastian was gone.
Chapter 10
Sebastian closed the door of his bedroom and slowly walked to his bed. Flopping down on it, he looked at his fancy Saint Laurent boots but felt like a stupid, delusional sixteen-year-old again.
When he was sixteen, he’d had a huge crush on the captain of the school’s football team, Mike Fletcher. God, it was such a cliché: the weird, geeky resident faggot (and they never cared when Sebastian said he was bi) pining over the most popular boy in school, who was straight as an arrow as far everyone was concerned. Mike Fletcher hadn’t been straight as an arrow—at least he was gay enough to allow Sebastian suck him off when he wasn’t calling him a faggot in school corridors. Mike had never reciprocated, never touched him, because, according to him, he wasn’t queer. Mike had never even kissed him, but Sebastian’s sixteen-year-old self was naive and delusional enough to think Mike was just in denial about his feelings—that he wouldn’t let Sebastian suck his cock if he didn’t have genuine feelings for him. It was much later that Sebastian had realized what he and Mike had wasn’t even sex; it was a slavish, one-sided devotion. When Sebastian told Mike that he was in love with him and wanted more from their relationship, Mike laughed at his face and said,
“What relationship?”
It’d been years, but Sebastian still remembered the inflection of Mike’s voice and the sneer on Mike’s face as he had said it. And as if it hadn’t been enough for Mike to stomp all over Sebastian’s heart, Mike and his cronies literally kicked his feelings out of him later that day. Mike laughed as his friends used him as a punching bag.
After that, Sebastian had done his best to stay away from Mike Fletcher, but Mike wouldn’t leave him alone. Almost a year later, Mike was the one who caught Sebastian giving head to his first boyfriend, Bill. Mike took a picture of them, and the rest, as they say, was history. Bill, who hadn’t been out, was forced out of the closet and ostracized by his own family. A month later, standing by Bill’s grave and feeling people’s judgmental looks on him, Sebastian promised to himself: never again. He was done getting involved with guys who bullied others to hide their own sexuality. Guys like Mike never changed. They were the type to marry early, produce two-point-five kids, and fuck some naive faggot on the side before returning to their perfect wife. Never again.
And now, almost ten years later, Sebastian felt sick to his stomach, burning with shame, because it was Mike Fletcher all over again, wasn’t it? Apparently he still was as stupid and weak as he had been back then.
Jesus, how could he? How could he go against his very principles and let another homophobic, closeted asshole fuck him? In Moscow he hadn’t been ashamed, because he felt he was teaching the homophobic jackass a lesson. What he’d been doing in the past few days—teasing Vlad and provoking him—was dangerously close to flirting. What had happened back at the club wasn’t a lesson. He’d just been mindless with it, wanting to scratch the itch and get fucked, deep and hard.
Vlad had called him a slut. Vlad was right.
Even now, just thinking about it and remembering what it had felt like caused Sebastian’s spent cock to twitch, shameful arousal washing over him once again.
Idiot. He was an idiot. He wasn’t the weird looking, pale as death, unpopular teenager anymore. He had dozens of men and women vying for his attention. And yet he had to go and get fucked by a man who was completely unapologetic about his homophobia.
Something soft rubbed against his ankle. Sebastian looked down.
“I’m hopeless, aren’t I?” he said, picking up his cat and cradling her against his chest. He fell back on the mattress and started petting her, trying to empty his mind from all thoughts.
It didn’t work.
The worst part was...he’d loved it. He had loved making Vlad mad, making him lose it, feeling Vlad’s low growls against his ear, feeling Vlad’s fingers grip his hips as Vlad couldn’t help but fuck into him. It had been such an empowering feeling. It had gotten him off almost as much as the thick cock inside him.
He had left before Vlad could spout his usual homophobic bullshit—and also because he felt too ashamed. Ashamed of loving it so much, ashamed for falling into the same rabbit hole that he’d
done as a teenager, and ashamed for breaking the promise he’d made to himself on the dead boy’s grave.
“Why am I such a dumbass?” Sebastian whispered with a humorless smile.
Hermione meowed.
“Yeah,” Sebastian said, closing his eyes. He tensed when he heard the sound of footsteps in the corridor.
Vlad was back, too.
The footsteps stopped outside his door.
Sebastian went rigid, his heart pounding in his ears.
Would he come inside? What for? To tell Sebastian he wasn’t gay? To beat him up? Or maybe...to crawl on top of him for another round?
Sebastian hated himself for the tiny thrill he felt at the thought.
The footsteps sounded again, and then the door opposite his room closed.
Sebastian breathed out, unsure whether he was disappointed or relieved by the lack of confrontation with Vlad.
Figuring the coast was clear, Sebastian headed out of the room. He was thirsty as hell.
He padded out toward the kitchen but stopped when he saw that Luke was there. He was sitting at the kitchen table, talking on the phone. He was talking to his boyfriend, Sebastian realized. Before he could leave to give Luke privacy, he heard his own name and paused.
“That’s not up to you, Roman,” Luke said.
Sebastian had met Luke’s boyfriend only once and wasn’t sure what to think of the man. Roman Demidov was an imposing, handsome man with the air of power and authority about him, but his cold blue eyes gave Sebastian the creeps. They seemed to read his every thought and see right through him. Roman gave the impression of a man who wouldn’t hesitate to use your weakness against you. Sebastian couldn’t imagine a man less suitable for a soft, romantic bloke like Luke, but they seemed to work.
“Come on, Roma,” Luke said, sounding amused and a little resigned. “I feel like Rapunzel as it is.” He chuckled softly. “I even have the golden hair.”
Whatever Roman said, it made Luke’s smile dim. “Enough,” he said. “I’m neither careless nor dimwitted, Roma. Sebastian is a friend and he needs help. I know you’re worried, but I’m not budging on this.”
A pause.
“About that,” Luke said. “I don’t want Vlad around my place.”
Roman’s response made Luke roll his eyes.
“He’s a homophobic prick,” Luke said.
A pause.
“No, he hasn’t, but my home is my safe place,” Luke said. “I don’t want people like him looming over me and my guests. I know he’s bothering Sebastian.” Luke sighed. “Fine. But when are you coming home?”
There was a pause again.
Luke pouted. “That’s not soon.” He bit his lip. “I miss you. The bed is cold and empty without you.”
Roman’s response made Luke smile softly.
“Yeah,” he said. “Please be safe. Love you.”
Sebastian felt something in his chest clench. There had been a time when he’d dreamed of love, too, of having a steady partner to spend his life with. A time when he hadn’t been afraid to get hurt—couldn’t even imagine getting hurt by love. It felt like it had been in another life.
Luke hung up and sighed, dropping his head into his hands.
Sebastian cleared his throat and stepped into the kitchen. “Sorry—I didn’t mean to overhear, but…I’ll move out if your boyfriend is against—”
“Never mind him,” Luke said, lifting his head. “He’s just worried for me.” His expression became curious as his eyes swept over Sebastian, lingering on his neck. Luke smiled. “Got lucky tonight?”
Not exactly.
Sebastian shrugged and went to pour himself a glass of water.
“Did Vlad behave? I saw him when he returned. He was like a dark cloud.” Luke chuckled. “When he growled at me, it sounded like thunder.”
Sebastian gulped his water down and set the glass on the counter next to the sink. “Yeah,” he said, glad that his back was to Luke and he didn’t have to look him in the eye. A fresh wave of shame and mortification washed over him. Luke would judge him if he found out about what Sebastian had allowed to happen. Heck, Sebastian would judge the hell out of himself if he were in Luke’s place. But then again, Luke was dating a Russian.
“Can I ask you something?” Sebastian said after a moment of hesitation. He’d always liked Luke—he was easy to like—but he and Luke were more of casual friends. Sebastian didn’t think they’d ever talked about something serious.
“Sure,” Luke said, looking at him curiously.
“How can Roman not mind Vlad’s homophobia?”
A wrinkle appeared between Luke’s brows. “It’s not that Roman doesn’t mind—he just gets why Vlad is the way he is.” He sighed. “You have to understand that things are different in Russia, especially in the countryside. Homophobia is considered the socially acceptable norm rather than something close-minded and bad. It’s terrible, I know, but it is what it is.”
“Why isn’t Roman homophobic, too, then?”
Luke made a face. “Roman has his moments, too. And his situation is pretty unique: most of his family lives in Switzerland, and he spends a lot of time in the U.S. and Europe. He’s been subjected to homophobia to a lesser degree than most Russians.” Luke shrugged. “It helps that Roman is very open-minded when it comes to sex, so it wasn’t such a big leap for him.” He winced. “There are still times when I want to smack him. Roman doesn’t consider himself gay—he says he’s with me because he wants me, not my prick.” A soft, rather dopey smile appeared on Luke’s face. “It makes me a bit mad, but it’s also kind of sweet? I love him, and he loves me. No one is perfect. Some things are worth it. Love is worth it.”
Sebastian smiled faintly. He didn’t know whether he felt jealous or terrified for Luke. How could Luke allow himself to be so gone for a man who didn’t even identify as gay? It was a recipe for heartbreak—or happiness, if Roman’s feelings were genuine.
“Anyway, why are you asking?” Luke said, giving him a long look.
“Just curious.” Sebastian faked a yawn. “I’m knackered. Good night.”
“Good night,” Luke said, something like amusement flickering in his eyes.
Sebastian hurried out of the kitchen, hoping he wasn’t an open book.
He came to an abrupt halt in the corridor. The door to Vlad’s room was cracked open.
Wetting his lips, he walked to it as quietly as he could and peered into the crack.
Shirtless, Vlad was doing push-ups with one arm, his back muscles shifting and flexing with beads of sweat dripping down his spine.
Sebastian swallowed and tore his eyes away.
He returned to his room, wondering if the risk of being kidnapped by homophobic lunatics was preferable to staying under the same roof as Vlad.
“I’m going to ignore him tomorrow,” Sebastian told Hermione.
She gave him a flat stare. Sebastian sighed, flopped onto his bed, and covered his head with a pillow.
Even his dumb cat was judging him.
Chapter 11
Normally, Sebastian was a morning person. However, after spending half of the night wide awake, tossing and turning, he really didn’t appreciate being rudely awoken by a phone call from his agent.
“...come on, get up—”
“Wait, what?” Sebastian said blearily, rubbing at his eyes.
Zoe sighed. “Did you listen to a word I said? The shooting for Gentleman’s Gentleman starts in four hours. Did you forget about the photo shoot? I hope you’ve been keeping yourself in shape and eating healthily.”
Sebastian thought guiltily about the ice cream he’d eaten the previous day while he fumed over Vlad’s words. “Of course,” he lied. He had known that he had the photo shoot coming soon, but the date had slipped his mind with all the excitement of the past few days.
“Good,” Zoe said. “Though we don’t want you looking too perfect. You know Gentleman’s Gentleman likes a more authentic, natural look. They’ll be shooting the first part of
the photo shoot in your hometown—you do remember that, do you?”
Sebastian yawned, trying to wake up completely and failing. “Sure,” he said. He did remember. That magazine toed the fine line between fashion and art. The editors liked when their photo shoots told a coherent story or at least sent a meaningful message; they liked to use the model’s background for inspiration. It was quite different from Sebastian’s usual spreads in fashion magazines.
He had been a little hesitant about accepting the job at first. He wasn’t sure he wanted to share with the world what a loser he had been in his youth. It was Zoe who had convinced him that besides financial benefits, such a spread would also send a powerful message to all the struggling, depressed teenagers out there: that someone on the bottom of the social ladder could become very successful as an adult. That had finally convinced Sebastian to take the gig.
“Great, then!” Zoe said. “Just one more thing, love: you’ll need a bodyguard. The attack on you is all over the news. You can’t be seen in public unprotected—it’ll reflect badly on the agency. We’ve found someone for you, and he should be there to pick you up in half an hour.”
“Fine,” Sebastian said with a sigh.
“Good luck.”
“Thanks,” Sebastian said and hung up.
He looked at the clock. He hoped the agency would be able to find a decent bodyguard on such a short notice. Sebastian was neither stupid nor careless. The photo shoot was public knowledge. He would be outdoors for most of it. It was a perfect opportunity to attack him.
Trying to shake the knot of apprehension in his gut, Sebastian got out of bed.
After finishing his morning routine and getting dressed, Sebastian emerged from his room. He had to tell Luke he would be gone for the day.
Luke was in the kitchen. He wasn’t alone.
Sebastian didn’t let his steps falter when he saw Vlad deep in conversation with Luke. They both looked up when he entered the kitchen.
“Morning,” Sebastian said, pouring himself a cup of tea.
“Are you leaving?” Luke said.
Just a Bit Wicked (Straight Guys Book 7) Page 7