tension. The fingers returned to his ass and then slipped out to touch his
cock and squeeze his balls as if to reward him.
And what a reward it was. Slow and precise, with just the right
amount of pressure. Each stroke and squeeze meant to ramp up the
thrill one agonizingly hot inch at a time.
“Fuck!”
The dildo breached his hole hard and fast, was withdrawn just as
quickly.
“Relax. I won't hurt you.”
“I hope to fuck you mean that.” The pain went as quickly as it had
come.
“Say the word and I'll stop.”
Chris took a breath. “No. Go on. I'm okay.”
Nikita kissed his back, slid his slick fingers underneath to caress
the spot where he'd cut the characters.
This is mine.
This. All of it, all of him.
“Please. Go on.”
The big dildo head touched his hole again, slipped in no more
than an inch and was withdrawn. Time dragged. Chris rocked back,
wanting it, wanting more.
“When I'm ready.”
“I understand.”
Chris measured his breathing, the need, the anticipation making
him ready to jump out of his skin.
The dildo pressed against him a third time, and Nikita held it still.
It didn't hurt this time, the worst was over, his body knew what to
expect.
Again, Nikita moved with a slow hand, easing the toy in and out,
going deeper each time.
Chris groaned into the pillow, lost himself in the feel of the long,
slow fuck. He tensed when the fucking stopped, the dildo still balls
deep inside him. Something shifted between his legs, but nothing made
sense until he felt Nikita's lips on his cock, his breath against his balls.
One hand guided his cock between Nikita's lips, the other held the
dildo in place. Chris gave a strangled sound when Nikita took him in
two ways at the same time, sucking and licking him, fucking him too.
Chris held still even if all he wanted was to plunge his aching
cock deep into Nikita's throat, but he knew Nikita wasn't experienced
with that and would definitely choke. And right now, he couldn't bring
himself to do that. One hand stroked him firmly, but it didn't take much
from there. He jerked forward in pure, uncontrollable reflex, just a little,
and came into Nikita's mouth, orgasm more powerful than anything in
ages, releasing a pressure he'd very nearly burst under in the last
months. Nikita kept sucking him, which prolonged the agony, and even
after he'd pulled back, he kept licking for a while longer, before he slid
out from under Chris's legs.
The dildo left, again, slowly, and Chris thought that might have
been the only thing that had kept him upright. He wanted to collapse on
the floor and not move for an hour. But he stayed right there, bracing
himself to be fucked. Nikita hadn't come yet.
But there was nothing save the sound of his own quick breathing,
slowly, a little at a time. Shit. Maybe he wasn't supposed to come
unless ordered? Wasn't that how it was in the porn flicks?
Nikita's large rough palm stroking the length of his spine relaxed
Chris.
“I've never done that.”
Chris clenched his jaw, afraid snark would come out even now.
“Thank you… for having me be the first.”
Chris thought he heard a whispered “the only” but decided it was
his imagination.
He knew it wasn't imagination when Nikita brushed against him
in positioning himself.
He wanted to scream, “Hurry! Fuck me now! Hard!” but managed
to keep the pleas in.
Like he had with the fake dick, Nikita set a maddening precise
pace.
Again Chris lost himself in the sensations, the feel of the hardness
filling him, hitting his prostate with what had to be planned timing. He
was hardly aware of his wrists being freed and then his ankles.
Still Chris remained as he had been. This was Nikita's fantasy,
moved.
“Stand up.”
Chris did, hating that weird disorientation of the darkness and the
unfamiliar setting. With a hand on his shoulder, Nikita told him to turn
right and then take a few paces forward.
“Turn, face me. A step back. Another.”
He stopped when Chris bumped into the edge of what he figured
was the long table opposite the bed.
“Hop up, sit.”
Chris did, his legs spread, clearly inviting anything. He was
surprised when Nikita's lips slid over his cock again. The mouth play
ended just as he was coming back to life, but the feel of Nikita's hot
tongue softly stroking over the place he'd cut made up for it.
Chris breathed a contented sigh when Nikita pulled away and
stood between his legs.
“Grab my shoulders.”
He did as told. Nikita lifted him from the table, carried him,
positioned his back against one of the walls. Chris kept his legs around
Nikita's waist when he let go of Chris's thigh to lift his right arm from
his shoulder. There was a bar to grip. Chris hadn't noticed that earlier
but wasn't about to complain or comment. Nikita cuffed his wrist, then
the other.
Chris squinted against the light when Nikita pulled the blindfold
free. Fuck but the big guy was gorgeous, more handsome than he'd
ever noticed. His lips were wet, his skin flushed, gleaming with beads
of sweat. His cock was hard, near ready to burst, still glistening with
lube.
He gripped Chris's legs, positioned himself and slid his cock back
inside. “I want to see the look in your eyes when I come in you.”
Chris tensed around him, offering more friction, holding him
close with his thighs, chest to chest, and no doubt the slightly awkward
position drew out the pleasure. Never in his life had Chris had a lover
who was that controlled, that skilled at playing with his mind, and he'd
had quite a few spectacular fucks. Nikita now moved harder and faster,
his gaze intent on Chris's face, those cold eyes gleaming with intensity.
Chris made a valiant attempt, but he couldn't come again, not
quite so soon. Didn't matter, because when he could finally feel
Nikita's release, he took it. No thought that they'd been barebacking,
no worry or fear, just completion, peace, validation, another gift. He
stared at Nikita, finally getting this whole fucked-up mess, but before
he could say anything, Nikita kissed him, deep, hungry, with a
lingering taste of his own orgasm.
Nikita held him close with one hand, unsnapped the cuffs from
the overhead bar with the other. He stole another, quicker kiss before
setting Chris on his feet.
Surprisingly Nikita kept a hold on him, a light one, hands on his
hips, their cocks lightly touching. Chris rubbed his wrists, flexed his
sore hands. He hadn't realized he'd been gripping the bar that tightly.
“You're all right?”
“Great. Thank you. It wasn
't anything like I expected.”
“What did you expect?”
Chris opened his mouth only to close it to keep his smart-ass side
in check. He shrugged. “I don't know, but I don't think that was it.”
Nikita smiled.
Shit. It was the cutest smile he'd ever seen on any guy, and he
wanted to go all limp wristy and throw himself at Nikita. Instead he
caressed the side of Nikita's face with the back of his hand. “Katya was
right. You are the best.”
The smile evaporated. “Katya, yes.”
“Did I say something wrong? Oh shit. Are you two married on
the sly?”
“No. Never.” Nikita left it at that and stepped back, letting his
fingers trail down the length of Chris's arm, clasped his hand before
breaking away. He collected the toys and placed them in a labeled
plastic bag and left them by the door for the staff to sanitize. “Let's
clean up.”
Chris followed him into the attached bathroom. Yet again he was
surprised by the turn of events. It was weird, but he wasn't about to
protest when Nikita took the lead in soaping him down and washing his
hair. It was weird to be “babied,” but damn it felt so good to have
someone—a big scary fucker like Nikita no less—take care of him this
way.
He tried to reciprocate, but Nikita took the soap bar away and
swabbed his own chest.
Chris stepped back out of the hot water stream. “Okay, I promised
not to mouth off, but I need to say this and I hope to God it doesn't
come out all wrong—I'm not your pampered bitch. Please don't treat
me like one.”
He held his breath when Nikita hit him with that icy stare until
the other man threw his head back, letting loose a hearty laugh that
vibrated off the tiles. He slid his hand behind Chris's neck, pulled him
in for a kiss.
“What happens in private stays private, yes?”
“I'm down with that.”
What he wasn't down with was the sight that greeted them when
they exited a short time later—two vaguely familiar goons waiting just
beyond the monitored door to the play rooms.
Chapter 10
IT WASN'T easy to put his game face back on after the scene. Nikita
rather felt like chilling with a drink and spending time with Chris in the
afterglow of what had turned into the fulfillment of his fantasies: Chris
submitting to him, threatening to break down his own control. Maybe
because it was easier to be controlled when it didn't actually cut to the
bone, he thought, and pushed that to the side to be dealt with later.
“Gentlemen,” he said to the two gangsters. “We weren't supposed
to meet until midnight.” He checked his watch. Quarter to. Too easy to
lose track of time.
“Who's he?” the faster of the two asked, nodding toward Chris.
“Freelancer I hired for the job.” Nikita gave the man a stare.
“Your man Zaitsev trusted him to take out Voronin, so he's good
enough for me.” He dropped the name so Chris knew what they were
talking about and what his creds were. “Switch to English so I don't
have to explain everything twice.”
He led the way to one of the alcoves and plucked up the food
menu, flicked it open, made his decision, and handed the menu over to
Chris. He was being too casual with the criminals, but leaning back,
studying them, he noticed that set them on edge more than when he
played hard-assed cop with them. Just as well.
He doubted they'd try anything in here. Too many potential
witnesses, and Chris was also carrying his weapon. Was he in the
proper frame of mind to use it if need be? He'd have to put his own
trust on the line there.
Chris ordered himself a burger. It was so predictably American of
him. If the gangsters weren't present, he'd have smiled about it. Those
two ordered the large mezze plate, content to have the lighter fare of
olives and crackers with dips. Almost like civilized people.
“I hear it's been quiet. Too quiet since your employer's untimely
demise.” Nikita sipped his water. “Are none of you thirsting for
revenge?”
“It's not as simple as that,” the quick one said. “This is not our
home ground. Too many variables.”
“In other words, none of you has big enough balls,” Chris
muttered.
The gangster glared, made a move for his jacket.
“Not wise,” Nikita said. The gangster hesitated long enough that
Nikita could pull the knife and place it against the man's femoral artery
before the criminal managed to touch whatever he was packing. In the
gloom of the club, the blackened double-edged blade didn't even catch
a reflection. “No trouble. I like this place.”
“Peace,” the man said in Russian, lifting his hands in a near-
comical gesture.
Nikita drew the knife back but held it in his hand just in case.
“Why haven't you made a move against Shkadov? He had Zaitsev
killed.”
The gangster glanced around. “Nobody knows where he is right
now, but we expect he'll oversee a large shipment next Saturday.”
“How large is „large'?”
“Fifty heads.”
Nikita nodded. “Nice sum of money on the way there.” And
they'd need a fair amount of armed goons to secure the shipment. “Are
they going to get auctioned off?”
“At least the best of them.”
It was a sickening business, the trafficking in lives, most of them
hardly more than girls, far too many abducted or sold off by drug-
addicted or debt-ridden parents. Some went on their own volition, lured
with the promise of jobs as au pairs or waitresses. It would probably be
kinder to put a bullet in them than “save” them and send them home.
Noting the approach of the waiter, Nikita covered his knife with
the edge of his napkin. Chris dug into his meal as casually as any hired
gun would in such a situation. The gangsters were more discreet, only
ordering because it had been expected. Nikita cut into his steak, swirled
the meat back in its own juice before placing it in his mouth.
He spoke after swallowing. “The shipment arrives where?”
“They're driving them into the old Tempelhof airport. I hear
they're doing the auction there in one of the closed hangars.”
Lots of open ground, little chance of last time repeating itself.
“Can we appear as buyers?” Chris asked.
“They've been vetted in advance,” one of the gangsters said.
“Do you know who's invited?”
“Some brothel owners, some rich guys….” The gangster
shrugged, clearly not overly interested in the details. “But Shkadov will
be there. You can take him out then, if you want him.”
“I'll look into it.” Nikita nodded thoughtfully, amused that they
thought they were hiring him as a torpedo, or contract killer. “What
happens when Shkadov is done?”
“We'll take out the rest of his guys here.”
“And rebuild your own organizatsiya. Or do you have succe
ssion
troubles?”
The gangster opened his hands in a “maybe” gesture. “Much is
still up in the air.”
“That's what I'm hearing.” Nikita sipped more water. “What
about the head of security, Rochev?”
“He vanished.” The gangster frowned, not too happy about that.
“Some say he was a traitor.”
“Well, seems he had something to hide. I'll keep my eyes open
for him too.” Of course, mentioning that had just signed Rochev's
death warrant. Cockroaches like him didn't deserve any better.
The gangster nodded and set his napkin on the table. “If we hear
of any changes in the schedule, you'll be contacted.”
“Fine.”
The slow one took a last plump olive before leaving a few bills on
the table.
When they were gone, Chris looked over. “Did you mean it about
me being part of the operation, or was it for their benefit?”
“Mostly the latter.”
Chris put down his burger. “I can do this, we both know it.”
“It's not your fight, is it?”
“How the fuck do you know it's not?”
Nikita took the last piece of meat, pushed his plate away. “You
were sent away from whatever brought you here. There's no need to
risk yourself.”
“Maybe I want to watch your back. If I hadn't last time, we
wouldn't be having this little convo, would we?”
Nikita sipped his water. He certainly could argue with that, but he
didn't want to, not just now. He placed more cash on the table to cover
the bill and gratuity. “If you've finished, let's go.”
“Where to?”
“Home. What's passing for it here at any rate.”
IF THE situation had been any different, Chris would have pondered
suggesting Nikita to the Dragon Lady as a prospective recruit for
GORGON. Fuck, the man seemed to run his whole operation without
backup, or very nearly solo, unless he'd count the contact at the
Russian embassy. He was certainly well connected, as that little
conversation had indicated.
Only, of course, GORGON would certainly not listen to him
anymore. He could just about imagine the poisonous report that Stefan
had gleefully typed up and already presented in triplicate. But he'd be
fucked if he cared about this. At all. Right now he only cared about
Nikita. Okay, and John and Andrei. But those two could keep each