Page 51 of Deviant Need

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Danya.” His hand grabs my chin and forces my head up, making me look at him. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“I just wanted to feel like I had options, okay? Like maybe there’s someone out there who could actually want me.”

His expression shifts. “What the fuck are you talking about? Why wouldn’t someone want you?”

I pull my face away from his grip. “Forget it.”

“No. Explain that to me right now.”

“It doesn’t matter, Mikhail. Can you just drop it?”

“Like fuck I will. You’re out here looking for strangers on the internet because you think nobody wants you and you won’t tell me why?”

“Because it’s none of your business!”

“None of my business? You’re my brother, Danya. Everything about you is my business.”

“That’s the problem!” I push up from the bed, needing distance, but he stands with me and blocks my path. “You can’t just control every aspect of my life, Mikhail. I wanted to meet someone. That’s all.”

“Some random asshole who doesn’t know you? You were going to let some stranger touch you just because you’re desperate?”

“At least then they’d want me!” The words rip out of me before I can stop them.

His expression goes deadly still. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“Nothing. Forget it.” I try to move past him, but he catches my arm and spins me back around.

“No. Say it again. Who doesn’t want you?”

“Let go of me.”

“Danya—”

“I said let go!” I shove him, but he doesn’t budge. “You don’t get it. You never fucking get it.”

“You want to know who wants you?” His eyes lock on mine. “I do.”

He grips my shoulders and throws me into the mattress, diving in after me and landing on top of me so hard the air punches out of my lungs. His mouth crashes into mine, and my brain shuts down completely, every coherent thought evaporating the second his lips move against mine.

My hands slide up his back, trembling and clumsy, tracing every ridge of muscle until I reach his buzzed head.

The texture grounds me for half a second before he bites down on my bottom lip hard enough that I gasp, and the second my mouth opens, he takes it as permission. His tongue pushes past my lips and claims every inch of me, licking into my mouth.

He fists his hand in my hair and tilts my head to the side, angling me exactly where he wants me, and kisses me harder. Deeper. Trying to devour me whole.

My cock goes hard so fast it’s painful, straining against my boxers and throbbing with every roll of his hips. When he grinds down against me, I feel him, thick and hard.

He’s hard for me? What is happening?

We should pull back and talk about this, think it through, be rational people, but thinking means stopping, and I’m not ruining this moment with my overthinking. Not when his tongue is stroking against mine, and his weight is pinning me into the mattress and everything I’ve wanted for years is finally, finally happening.

He pulls back, and a string of saliva connects our mouths. My eyes go wide watching it stretch between us. “Do you want to stop?” he asks, breathless.

“No,” I say quickly, my voice coming out desperate. “Please keep kissing me. Don’t stop.”

Before I can process what’s happening, he’s on me again, his tongue shoving back into my mouth as though he can’t stand being separated for even a second.