A Russian Bear

by CB Conwy

  Mischa counted himself lucky that he had prepared the scene the day before, having already fastened the cuffs to the cross. Even with the bindings in place, it was hard to make Tom stay still for long enough to tie him up.

  Mischa managed to get his sub's hands into the cuffs, Tom fighting him every step of the way.

  "Stand still, boy! If you kick me, I swear I'll tear off your balls." Tom yelled with frustration, but he only resisted a little when Mischa spread his legs and tightened the cuffs around his ankles. When he was all tied up, though, he started to fight his bonds with all of his power, shouting words without any meaning. Mischa watched him and then grabbed another strap. Pressing Tom against the cross, the Dom fastened the wide belt around Tom's waist and the cross.

  Mischa stepped back. "That'll keep you under my control, boy." And it would give Tom something to fight against that didn't put a strain on his shoulder joints.

  "Fuck you!"

  Mischa raised an eyebrow. "Do you really think it's a good idea to be disrespectful when you're tied up and your master holds a flogger in his hand?"

  Tom's head whipped around to see. Mischa didn't lie; he had put the heavy black flogger near the cross the day before, too.

  Tom's eyes widened. He was breathing heavily, but he stayed silent this time. Mischa stepped close, letting the leather slide over Tom's body. For the first time, the sub looked nervous. Mischa let the flogger slide gently over his ass, making Tom gasp.

  "Oh yes, you like this, boy, don't you?"

  Tom pulled against his bonds. "No! Fuck you, I don't want this!" He was struggling so hard that Mischa got worried. Then the Dom remembered the safeword ceremony; Tom had wanted to make sure that Mischa understood. He wanted this. Mischa let the first stroke fall.

  Tom yelled and arched as much as the cuffs let him. "Fuck! Don't do that. No!" Mischa hit him again, and again, setting up a rhythmic pattern of hard, stinging blows. Tom was shouting and cursing and fighting his every stroke. Mischa didn't let up even a little bit, just kept on flogging his boy.

  After a while, Tom got quieter. Mischa knew that the boy had to use his energy to deal with the pain instead of fighting. His sounds changed from yelling into moans, the sounds only interrupted when he had to gasp for air. Mischa kept the rhythm steady, letting the blows be so regular that they drove everything else out of Tom's mind.

  At the end, Tom was hanging limply from the cuffs, body shining with sweat. The boy was quiet, the only sounds in the room the heavy thud of the flogger and Tom's long, harsh breaths. Mischa let one last blow fall and stepped up close, opening his pants. It was only then that Mischa realized how hard he was. He pulled the condom and the small packet of lube from his pocket, putting them on. For a split second, Mischa was amused by his own Boy Scout readiness; then his arousal took over and he let his fingers slide up and down his boy's sides.

  Tom whimpered. "No more, sir. I can't take any more." Mischa just made a soothing sound and let a finger push into Tom, slathering the lube deep inside him. Tom briefly tried to fight him when Mischa added another finger, but the boy was too exhausted and sank back down. Mischa pushed into him.

  Fuck, the boy's ass was so tight around him. Mischa had to hold still, fighting not to come on the spot. Tom was writhing in his bonds, keening in his attempt to ride out the burn. Mischa gently caressed his sides, and the boy went quiet. Then Mischa started fucking him.

  Tom's head fell forward, the sub surrendering so perfectly that it took Mischa's breath away and made his cock jerk inside his boy. He put his arms around Tom, one arm keeping his chest close to Tom's sore back, the other grabbing Tom's cock and stroking it. Mischa could feel the strokes around his dick, Tom's ass contracting every time Mischa let his thumb slide over the cockhead. For a moment, he was lost in his boy's pleasure. Then his own body demanded its right, and he had to thrust deeply. Tom whimpered but didn't move or protest. Mischa slammed into him again, rubbing his dick and forcing the climax out of him. Tom almost sobbed when the boy came, and Mischa shouted when he came, too, pushing himself as deeply into his boy as he could go.

  They stayed like that forever, the only sound in the room their labored breathing. Mischa finally had to pull out and get rid of the condom, making Tom protest and fight weakly to get him back.

  "Shh, it's okay, boy." Mischa hugged him tightly. Tom relaxed in his arms.

  Mischa bent down and opened the cuffs around Tom's ankles. The exhausted sub tried to stand, but his legs were wobbly and wouldn't support his weight. Mischa stood close to the boy while opening the cuffs around Tom's wrists. Tom cried out when his arms were lowered, and Mischa rubbed his shoulders, whispering soothing words to Tom and easing the boy's sore muscles. Finally, Mischa loosened the last strap and caught Tom when his legs gave out, carrying the boy to the bed.

  Mischa put him down, undressed and got into bed next to him. Tom made a little sound and pushed close, arms and legs wrapping around Mischa. Mischa put his arms around his boy and held Tom close.

  "You did so well, Tom." His voice was almost a whisper. "You can rest now." Tom's sound was something between a sob and a sigh, and Mischa held him, feeling Tom's breathing slow down and get deeper until the boy was asleep.

  ***

  Tom felt Mischa move, and even in his half sleep, Tom tightened his grip around the warm body. He wanted Mischa to stay with him in the warm, soft bed. The movement made his back burn, and he whimpered.

  "I know, boy." Mischa kissed him, letting Tom wake up slowly and quietly. When the man finally pulled back, Tom was ready to open his eyes. Mischa smiled a little.

  "Welcome back. You slept for a long time." Tom just nodded and pushed closer, hiding his head in Mischa's chest.

  "I wanted to get some cream for your back -- it'll help with the tenderness." Tom mumbled in protest and held him tighter. Mischa laughed quietly, but didn't try to leave. He stroked Tom's hair.

  "That was intense." Tom didn't look up.

  "How do you feel?" Okay, he probably couldn't hide here the rest of the day.

  "I feel good." Tom did, and that surprised him. It had been a rough scene. "I'm really tired, but it was good."

  "I think you have to be a bit more specific. 'Good' isn't really adequate to describe what we just did." Mischa's tone of voice was gently teasing.

  Tom pulled back and thought about it. "I feel... cleansed." He shrugged. "I know it sounds stupid, but I just feel empty and tired in a good way."

  Mischa kept caressing him. "It doesn't sound stupid at all. Do you know why you needed a scene like that now?"

  Tom didn't have to think about it. "I didn't need it -- I wanted it. I wanted to see how the intensity would feel, how it would be to fight you. And I guess I felt safe enough to do it now."

  Mischa kissed him, gently. Tom had more to say, though. "But it was rough, too. I was really close to my limit when you stopped flogging me, and I didn't think I could take any more, not even you touching me. But it was really good that you fucked me. It sort of made me... whole again." He looked into Mischa's eyes.

  "I love you."

  Mischa pulled Tom close and kissed him until he was breathless. "I love you, too, baby." Mischa's smile was exuberant and it was contagious. Tom laughed.

  "Good. Now, can we get rid of the fucking condoms? I'm sick and tired of them." Mischa laughed out loud and kissed Tom again, pushing him onto his back. Tom hissed when the contact with the sheets made the ache flare. It also made his cock jump. Tom couldn't help laughing.

  "How the fuck do you do that? I'm hornier than a sixteen-year old when I'm with you."

  Mischa pushed Tom's hands over his head and held them there. Tom moaned when he realized how helpless he was.

  "I know what you need." Mischa licked Tom's neck, making him gasp. So good.

  "Yes. You do. Please, fuck me again. I want to feel you tomorrow, too." Mischa didn't answer, just bent down and licked Tom's chest, circling around his nipples. Tom arched his back, begging for more.

&n
bsp; "You want me, boy?" Mischa loomed over him. Tom looked into his eyes.

  "Yes. Please." There was nothing he was surer of.

  Mischa smiled and let go of Tom's arms, but only to get the lube next to the bed. The Dom opened Tom up fast, making him hiss and arch to deal with the invasion, even if he had just been fucked. Then Mischa got the condom on and pushed in, making Tom grunt and flail. Mischa just lifted Tom's legs until they were straight in the air and the backs of his thighs were plastered to Mischa's chest. Then his lover started fucking Tom, making him grunt every time Mischa's thick cock went in deep. It felt so fucking good to be taken like that, having his ass reamed because Mischa needed him and because Mischa wanted him to feel good. The thought was exhilarating, and suddenly, Tom was so close. Mischa found his prostate, and Tom couldn't help it. The come spurted out of his cock, painting his stomach with white ropes of sperm. Mischa kept fucking him through it, making Tom's climax go on and on.

  When it was finally over, Tom was totally spent. Mischa's hard dick started to hurt going into his ass, and he whimpered. Mischa spread Tom's legs and bent over him.

  "Do you feel it? Is it starting to hurt, boy?" Mischa's voice was low and breathless. Tom whimpered again and nodded. Fuck, normally he was too aroused to notice how sore Mischa made him. He certainly wasn't now.

  Mischa took his mouth, thrusting harder into Tom and pushing the sounds out of him and into their kiss. Tom was so close to trying to push Mischa away when his lover pulled back up.

  "This is for me, boy. You do it because I like it." Tom groaned, but he took what Mischa gave him. It hurt every time Mischa pushed deep, but it was amazing to know that Tom made him all flustered, made Mischa's hips lose their rhythm and made him thrust in with jerking movements and shout, coming deep inside of Tom. It hurt, but it was so good.

  Mischa lay over Tom, breathing still labored after his climax. Then his lover pulled out and went into the bathroom. Tom couldn't move, his limbs feeling as if they were broken. Mischa came back with a towel and a loofah, gently washing and drying Tom.

  "You probably need a shower, but I'm not sure you're up to it." Tom smiled, not even opening his eyes. Mischa kissed him.

  "Come up and lie on the table; then I'll take care of your back."

  Tom opened his eyes, raising an eyebrow. "There's no way I can move right now. Sorry, but you can't fuck me like that and expect me to walk."

  Mischa grumbled something, but the man relented, rolling Tom onto his stomach.

  Mischa applied the cream with long, gentle movements, almost making it a massage. Tom melted, letting Mischa's hands take the sting away and soothe the aching muscles under his skin. He squeaked a bit when he felt Mischa's fingers on his asshole, rubbing the cream in there, too. It was so intimate.

  "Every part of you is mine." Mischa's lips were close to his ear, and Tom turned his head a little to get closer. "I see all of you. You're mine."

  Tom sighed and let Mischa finish. He was Mischa's, every inch of him. Fuck, it felt good.

  Chapter 9

  Tom didn't get his spanking the following morning; he was still too sore from the heavy flogging the day before. He was also floating, walking around Mischa's house with a silly grin on his face. Their house, he guessed he was supposed to call it now. The thought made him feel giddy.

  Mischa wasn't much help; the man kept finding very vague excuses to go into the dining room where Tom was working, and it always ended in a lengthy kiss that left Tom out of breath and with a raging hard on. They definitely had to find a better rhythm when he moved in for good. Wow. Moving in. Tom kicked himself mentally when the thought made him lose his concentration for the fiftieth time that day. He decided to give up and went into Mischa's office.

  "Do you want to get lunch? I can't concentrate on anything today."

  Mischa eagerly looked up. "I do. I'm not exactly productive myself." They went into the kitchen and started making lunch. It was all very domestic if you ignored the fact that Mischa kept brushing against Tom's sore ass, making him jump and gasp each and every time. They managed to sit down and eat, though.

  "Are you going to have any problems with your apartment -- how long does your lease run?" It seemed that Mischa was as eager as Tom was to get him moved out here.

  "I don't think it's going to be difficult. My roommate keeps talking about a friend who needs a place to stay. I think he was fishing for me to let him move in, but now the guy can take over my room instead."

  "You can call and ask him?" Mischa sounded as eager as a five-year old with a new bike. Okay, the hard on probably didn't fit into that picture. At all. Tom shuddered.

  Mischa was staring at him. "Are you okay?"

  Tom looked apologetically at him. "Sorry, my mind was running."

  Mischa just shook his head. "Sometimes it seems you have a whole world of your own inside your head. I wonder how many people we actually are in this relationship?"

  "Three, of course." Tom was imperturbable. "You, me and my brain."

  Mischa leaned in, but didn't touch. "One day," he kept his voice low, "I'm going to fuck only your brain. And make you come by it."

  Tom felt like a rabbit in front of a snake; totally mesmerized, he could only stare into Mischa's eyes. Mischa smirked.

  "How about you get things sorted out this afternoon -- then we can make arrangements for a moving truck."

  Tom shook himself internally. Reality needing his attention, here. "Sure, but it doesn't have to be more than a van -- I don't have any furniture."

  This time it was Mischa's turn to look uncomprehending. "You don't have any furniture? At all?"

  Tom shook his head. "Remember, poor student and stubborn? I only have a lousy bed and an old bookcase that threatens to topple over and bury me at least once a week." He felt a little self-conscious. "I do have a lot of books, though, even if most of them are in storage at the moment. We might have to look at some new bookcases to put in one of the guest rooms."

  Mischa looked pensive. "How about we change the dining room into a library? We could leave the dining table in and then put up some nice shelves. That way you can have a good place to work and we can still invite people over for dinner."

  Tom blinked. "You'd do that?"

  Mischa nodded. "Of course. I want you to feel welcome here."

  Tom got up and straddled Mischa's thighs, kissing him. "Do you know how happy you make me?" Suddenly, his voice wasn't quite steady.

  Mischa smiled. "Not as happy as you make me."

  And yes, they ended up in the bedroom again. But who the fuck cared about being predictable?

  ***

  Tom guessed that he should have known, but it turned out that Mischa was extremely thorough when it came to moving in boyfriends, too. Tom hadn't had any problems with his lease; his roommate's friend was ecstatic to find a place to live, and because it was "furnished" (Tom had really been reluctant to call his ratty old stuff that) the guy even took it in the middle of the month.

  They picked up Tom's books, and Mischa did look just a little overwhelmed when he saw how many boxes there were. It only took a moment, though; then he was making plans. Rather big and expensive plans.

  "But we can just buy a couple of bookcases. It doesn't have to cost that much." Really, Tom didn't want Mischa to have any expenses just because he was moving in.

  "No, your books are the most important thing to you." Tom couldn't protest that. "I want you to have a real library." Mischa didn't sound as if that was up for debate. Tom felt that he had to try anyway. Mischa just gave him a look.

  "Listen. Even if we don't work out -- and we will -- then this will make the house more valuable. So it's not an expense, it's an investment. And I'm good at those." There was absolutely nothing Tom could object to in that.

  That was why the carpenters arrived two days later, bringing tons of wood and tools. And noise. And there were a lot of them. Okay, there were only three guys, but they all had very loud tools and did loud things with them, and
Tom realized that he had gotten used to the silence of the countryside. He tried to tell himself that he was being ridiculous; a few months ago, he had never even set foot out here. Since then, though, it had started to feel like home, and now his home was being invaded.

  He tried to work in the guest room, but it was next to the wall where the carpenters were building the shelves. On the second day, he was staring at the painting on the wall that was moving rhythmically every time someone banged on the other side of the wall. It felt like sitting inside a hammer. Tom blinked. When his imagery started deteriorating that far, it was time for a break.

  He carefully rescued the painting (it was just a reproduction, but still; iconoclasm was a bad thing) and wandered around the house, idly looking for somewhere quiet even if he knew it would be impossible to find. One of the handymen came out of the library. Andy; Tom remembered the name because the guy was the only one out of the three not called Jeff. Which was odd when you thought about it. And his brain seriously needed something to do other than watch jumping pictures.