Page 25 of Two for Roughing

“I said—” Kilian licked his suddenly dry lips. “—good girls need to get fucked. To take care of them properly.”

“And are you a good girl?”

On anyone else, the grin on Denisov’s face would be utterly punchable. On him, while he loomed over Kilian and groped his ass, it was delicious.

“I want to be. Help me?”

Denisov kissed down his neck, making Kilian shudder. “I’ll help you, sweet girl,” he promised. “Make you perfect for me.”

“We should go to the bedroom,” Kilian decided, forcing himself to push Denisov backward. For all his strength, at the slightest touch from Kilian he gave way.

Kilian slipped past Denisov and led the way down the narrow hall to the bedroom. He winced when he caught sight of the stack of shirts and pants on the chair he kept in his room for clothes not dirty enough to go in the laundry or clean enough to go into the dresser. Why hadn’t he taken the time to shove them all under the bed?

But Denisov crowded close and pushed him down into the unmade bed, heedless of the disorder. Kilian fell back, body splayed out loose and easy for Denisov to do with as he pleased.

Denisov straddled his hips, running big, warm, callused hands up under Kilian’s shirt. “You’re so easy,” he said, and it didn’t sound insulting.

“Yeah,” Kilian agreed. He was easy; a dozen or so skeevy hookups in semipublic locations over the course of the last year would attest to that. Moreover, he was easy for Denisov, easy for the commanding way he touched Kilian.

“Let me do whatever I want, hm?” Denisov grabbed at the collar of Kilian’s dress shirt and pulled hard. Plastic buttons scattered on the sheets, some rolling off and skittering across the floor.

Kilian’s cock, which he’d thought was down for the count after the surprise blow job, thickened again.

“There, much better. Pretty girl like you shouldn’t be all covered up.”

Denisov had a wide, generous mouth and teeth to match, and as he scraped them along Kilian’s newly exposed clavicle, Kilian could finally relax, content to know someone else would make the decisions.

He arched his head back and groaned, squirming until he could get his arms out of the ruined shirt.

Denisov reared up from on top of him and began thumbing open the buttons on his own shirt.

“What, yours you don’t rip?”

“Mine is not hideous.”

Unfortunately, he was right. His deep red shirt bore a paisley print, and it complemented Denisov’s dark coloring. He looked edible in it. By contrast, Kilian had two other light blue shirts from the same three-pack, and none of them did him any favors. No button-up on Planet Earth could disguise how pasty and ginger he was. While Kilian enjoyed the way a nice suit looked on Denisov, he didn’t like them on himself enough to make an effort.

So he crunched up long enough to get the offending shirt out from under him and unbuttoned his pants while he was at it.

“Good girl,” Denisov told him.

Kilian preened.

Denisov rubbed his thumbs over Kilian’s nipples. He traced Kilian’s ribs, making Kilian squirm, and he laid gentle kisses across Kilian’s neck and shoulders. He dismounted to pull off Kilian’s pants and underwear, then did the same for himself. But before Kilian could get a good look at his body and his nicely proportional cock, Denisov rolled him onto his side, facing the wall.

He kissed the thin skin under Kilian’s ear before slotting in behind him. Kilian heard the rustle of a packet opening, and then Denisov pushed slick fingers between his legs.

“You brought your own lube?” Kilian asked.

“Mm.” Denisov bit at his shoulder. “A really good girl would have been wet and ready for me when I got here, but you’re not, are you?”

Kilian’s throat went dry. “Sorry,” he said, voice small and uneven. “I’ll do better next time.” He immediately wanted to kick himself for presuming a next time.

Denisov kissed his neck and crooked his fingers in deep.

Gasping at the shock of it, Kilian wondered if he would fuck the way he’d sucked Kilian off in the kitchen, sudden and fast and too much, disorienting in how good it was.

Did Kilian want that?