He frowns. “Don’t call me that.”
I wrap my arm around his waist, trapping him in my grip. “Tell me something you noticed about me no one else knows.”
“What type of request is that?”
“Just do it.”
He lifts a hand and traces a line from my forehead over my nose. “Not sure if no one else knows this, but you have a perfectly symmetrical face. Most people have an eye or ear that’s slightly bigger that the other. They have a good side because it’s proportionally better than the opposite one, but you look perfect from any side, because everything is well-balanced. Even your upper and lower lip are the same size. Actually, your entire body is perfectly symmetrical.”
He strokes his fingers over my lips and they willingly part. God damn. He says a few words that imply he’s been watching me and I feel like I’m being torn apart. “You’re an artist’s dream muse.”
“Then make me yours.”
He laughs. “Maybe you already are.”
“Fuck yeah. That’s a good thing, right?”
“Maybe.” He continues stroking my face. “Your turn.”
“My turn to what?”
“Tell me something you noticed about me no one else knows.”
“Hmm. You have eleven moles on your body.”
“Okay…”
“I’m not done. You have two hundred seventeen lashes on your right eye and two hundred twelve lashes on your left one.”
His lips part. “You…counted them?”
“Almost every night since you stayed over. That’s last night’s count. Might change today. You tend to lose some on your left eye.”
“But why would you count my lashes?”
“I love them. They’re dark and long and so fucking pretty when you’re sleeping. Besides, no one but me can count them, so that’s a huge bonus.”
He chuckles softly, the sound echoing around us like a lullaby. “You’re so weird.”
“I’ve always been.”
“That you have.”
“The only difference is that you’re not running away anymore.”
“No, I’m not.” He leans completely against my chest and closes his eyes. “Give me five and then I’m taking you to bed. From now on, you’re not allowed to sleep on the floor anymore.”
I have no words to say, so I lower my head and capture his lips in a slow kiss. That queasy feeling only gets more intense the longer my mouth ravages his. My insides melt when he meets me stroke for stroke, grunt for grunt.
If I wasn’t sure before, I am now.
I’m completely and irrevocably in trouble because of Brandon King.
26
NIKOLAI
Three weeks pass by in bliss.
And by bliss, I mean the most erotic, beautiful fuck fest.
Just kidding. I love the fucking, I really, really do. Ask Kolya and he’ll be giving a standing ovation.
But Bran and I have always had the fucking at the center of what we are. It’s why he even gave in to me in the first place.
Give yourself a pat on the crown for being a motherfucking elite seducer, Kolya.
However, that’s not the only strong element in our relationship anymore. Something changed after the first time he stayed over. Although I was the one who put forth that condition, I think he felt a sense of relief that I was forcing him to stop running.
I could be imagining it or deep into my delusions, but he really has this peaceful expression when I fall asleep strangling him or when he wakes up stroking my jaw.
Oh, I actually sleep on a bed now. Shocker, I know. It’s like the eighth world wonder and one of those mysterious breaks in history. I’m sure my previous useless therapists would have a field day with the causes.
I’m a simple man. I smell Bran and feel his hard muscles molded to mine, and I’m a goner. It’s blasphemy to expect me to sleep separate from him when he’s lying there like a beautiful prince.
He might attempt to push me away or pretend that I’m annoying and crushing him, but here’s the thing. Whenever I pull away from him in my sleep, I wake up to find his head on my chest and his arm wrapped around my middle. Or he’ll press his chest to my back, throw his arm on my waist, and bury his face in my hair.
He’s so fucking cute, I always want to swallow him whole, and I do, often.
I usually wake him up with my lips around his cock or my cock nudging inside him. He picked up on it and started trying to wake up before me just so he can suck me off first thing in the morning.
It’s not a competition I’m complaining about. In fact, I love how he gets that smug look on his face while giving me the sloppiest of sloppy blowjobs.
Over the past few weeks, Bran has become a bit more comfortable touching me and I don’t always have to initiate sex anymore.
If he’s in the mood, he definitely makes it known either by attacking me as soon as I walk inside the apartment or with his constant texts that mimic my clingy nature.
He can also be surprisingly possessive—though not as unhinged as I am since I literally threaten to break the arm of anyone who touches him. The other day, I ran into Simon at one of the coffee shops and he started being touchy as usual before I pushed him away.
Turns out, Bran saw it and sent me this gem of a text.
You better remember who the fuck you belong to, Nikolai.
Did I print that text and frame it? Possibly.
I fucking love that he’s been more forward lately. Not to the point of talking to me in public—God forbid anyone knows about us. But he’s getting there.
I don’t mind. Much. I love that I’m his secret. I love that he’s aloof and in complete control when in public, but he falls apart on my tongue, fingers, and cock in private.
I love that he steals glances at me when everyone is looking, then whispers how much he needs me to fuck the daylights out of him when it’s only the two of us.
He’s mine and that’s all that matters.
I'm the only one who knows he’s a noisy motherfucker during sex, and that’s all I care about. Still, I make sure to decorate his skin with hickeys so others know he’s owned. I take my time turning them deep purple until he’s whining and add new ones every night. The earful he gives me afterward is worth it.
There’ll be a day when he’ll come out. I know it. I feel it in his eyes when we’re in public. I see it in his body language when he angles himself in my direction as if he wants to walk to me, hug me, and kiss me. He stops himself every time, but that’s looking more painful for him lately.
He’ll break one day and I’ll be there to pick him up with open arms and an open mouth.
I’m wearing him down and he’s totally falling for me.
Okay, I’m being delusional again. While he doesn’t actually love me, he cares.
Sometimes more than necessary.
So here’s the thing, Bran despises the fights and makes that known every time as he patches me up and puts ointment on the bruises.