A Russian Bear (17 page)

“So, what’s for dinner?” Tom’s cheeks were going to suffer permanent damage if he didn’t get the subject changed. It had never been so bad before he met Mischa. On the other hand, Tom had never done so many embarrassing things before, either. Hot things. Very hot.

He heard the very pointed cough again. “Sorry?”

Mischa didn’t even try to hide his laughter. “Time to eat, my absentminded little scholar. Sit down before you forget what you’re doing again.”

Tom didn’t even try to protest; he knew a lost battle when he was in the middle of one.

They had dinner and talked about their day. As always, Tom was amazed at how easy it was to talk to Mischa. He seemed genuinely interested in Tom’s opinions, and he had some entertaining stories to tell about his clients.

After dinner, Tom managed to make progress with the huge stack of papers he had to grade. He brought them into the living room where Mischa was reading some business report, and they worked together, sitting on the couch. It was hours later before Tom finally realized how tired he was. He yawned.

“Ready to go to bed? You look beat.”

“I am. I was up early to start the grading. It’s going to take most of the weekend, I think.”

Mischa got up, reaching for Tom and pulling him up. “Then you need your beauty sleep. Come on.”

They got ready to go to bed. Mischa was already in bed when Tom stopped in the middle of the floor, his pajamas in hand. Suddenly, he didn’t know what to do.

“Anything wrong?” Mischa looked at him, questioningly.

“I... Do you need anything?” Was he supposed to be a sub now?

Mischa got up, only wearing his boxers. He slowly closed the distance between them, looking at Tom with a little smile. He let his hands caress Tom’s sides, and Tom got goose bumps all over.

Mischa pulled Tom’s shirt over his head and kissed him lightly. “Come to bed. I want to make love to you.”

Tom quickly pulled off the rest of his clothes and got into bed. He suddenly felt shy; he was normally totally spent when they went to bed -- or Mischa kept him in a state of perpetual arousal and didn’t let him touch himself. In a strange way, this felt like their first time.

Mischa knew, of course. The man pulled Tom in tightly and kissed him. The kiss was different, somehow. It was slow, not filled with the frantic desire Tom normally felt. It was good just to let it go on, to sink into it. Tom felt his arousal grow, but slowly, not the immediate hunger he normally felt. He let go, gave up any attempt at controlling it.

Never breaking their kiss, Mischa rolled him onto his back. Tom felt Mischa’s hand slide down his stomach, avoiding his dick. He arched for a moment, trying to get more. Then he sank back, allowing Mischa access to his ass.

Mischa’s fingers were already slick, and Tom wondered for a moment how the man had managed that. Then the first finger breached him and he couldn’t think anymore. It was so good, the touch so gentle that he moaned into the kiss.

It went on and on. Mischa didn’t push; Tom was opened slowly, never struggling like he usually did. When Mischa had three fingers in him and Tom was moaning with every exhalation, Mischa’s fingers were suddenly pulled out of him. Tom protested, but he had hardly opened his mouth before Mischa pushed into him. The air rushed out of Tom as he was filled with his lover.

He couldn’t speak, couldn’t tell Mischa how good this felt. He could only lay back, clinging to Mischa’s shoulders and whimpering with the feeling of Mischa pushing into him in long, even strokes. Mischa cradled Tom’s face, kissing his forehead, his cheeks, his chin, the corner of his mouth, all the time pushing the pleasure into him. Tom started making low, drawn-out sounds, unable to contain what he was feeling.

He could feel his orgasm build up so slowly, so inevitably. Mischa found his prostate, grinding into him with hectic movements, and Tom went over, the pleasure almost blinding. He could hear Mischa shout and jerk into him, giving him just a little pain. It made the pleasure almost unbearable, and he cried out.

Afterward, they just lay there. Mischa clutched his face, breathing heavily, forehead resting against Tom’s. It was so intimate, and Tom held Mischa tightly. This was where he belonged.

***

They set up a rhythm, working, talking over meals, and making love in the evening. Tom had started bringing Mischa coffee when he needed a break. Mischa had looked surprised the first time, but hadn’t declined. Tom kept the breaks short -- he had his own work, and he didn’t want to disturb Mischa. But it felt good, and he was more effective when he got back to work.

He worked like crazy during the next couple of days and managed to get the grading done and finish more than half of his own paper. He had felt a little insecure Saturday morning; he had no idea if Mischa still wanted to keep up their tradition with scenes during the weekend. But it had just been like the other days, and Tom was really grateful for the opportunity to get his work done.

Now it was Sunday afternoon, though, and Tom felt restless. He had been up early and managed to do the outline of the rest of his paper that morning, and he basically just needed to write the conclusion and polish the whole thing. He should have had a feeling of accomplishment after all of his hard work, but he still found himself wandering about the house. He found Mischa in the kitchen, reading the paper.

“Hey, baby. How’s the paper coming along?” It always gave Tom a little jolt of happiness when Mischa used the endearment. Even that couldn’t make him keep still, though, and he fiddled with the coffee-maker.

“Oh, great. I’ll be finishing it tomorrow, I think. I just can’t concentrate right now.” Tom thought about making more coffee, even though he didn’t really feel like it.

“No?” Mischa put his hands on Tom’s shoulders, rubbing gently.

“No.” Tom didn’t know whether to push into the caress or to pull away.

“You’re tense.” Mischa pushed harder, trying to force the tense muscles in Tom’s shoulders to relax. Tom pulled away before he knew what he was doing.

“Anything wrong?” Mischa’s voice was even, his eyes calm. Tom kept fidgeting with the drawers.

“No. I... I need...” He didn’t know what he needed.

“Look at me.” Tom forced himself to look up at Mischa. He swore he could see the man grow in front of him, changing from easygoing Mischa into alpha-male Mischa. Sexy Mischa. Tom couldn’t tear his eyes off his Dom.

“What do you want?”

“I want not to be asked what I want.” Tom blinked. He hadn’t even known that.

“You want balance.”

Tom frowned. “What do you mean?”

Mischa let his hand glide through Tom’s hair. “You want to be in power when you do your research and teach and talk to me, and then sometimes you want me to take over. You want our weekends.” Mischa tightened his grip in Tom’s hair and pulled Tom’s head back.

“Yes. Yes, sir, that’s what I want.” It was so simple.

Mischa stepped back, letting his eyes glide down Tom’s body.

“Undress.”

“Here?” Tom’s voice even squeaked. They were in the kitchen.

“Here. Now.” Mischa’s voice was low, a little scary. It made Tom’s cock hard. Tom blinked, and with an effort, he started to undress. He still hesitated when he came to his briefs. He would be so naked in front of Mischa. In the kitchen, God damn it.

Mischa stepped up close, grabbed Tom’s nipple, and pinched it until Tom shouted. “Take. Them. Off.” Tom scrambled to obey. He felt so naked when Mischa’s eyes glided appreciatively over him.

“Good boy. Into the playroom.” Mischa kept a hand on Tom’s shoulder, directing him into the middle of the room. Tom felt nervous, uneasy. His dick was hard, but he couldn’t find his peace, his need to obey.

“Are you clean?”

Tom blushed furiously. Mischa knew he wasn’t; Tom hadn’t used the enema kit here.

“No, sir.” It was so hard even to answer.

“Then we’ll start by filling you with water. Get into the bathroom.”

Tom started walking. But he couldn’t do it and stopped, Mischa bumping into him.

“Tom?” Mischa’s voice was calm, determined.

“I... You have to tie me up. I can’t do it otherwise.” It felt huge to admit this, to ask for the cuffs.

“Okay. Do you want the big cuffs again?”

He nodded mutely. Mischa got them and put Tom’s hands into them. Tom made a hoarse sound when he felt the straps tighten around his hands, making his fingers useless. Mischa finished up by hooking the cuffs together and grabbed Tom’s hands, dragging him the rest of the way. Tom gasped, trying to keep up and at the same time not reveal how excited he was.

Mischa roughly pushed him up against the wall, pinning him against it while the Dom hooked the cuffs onto a fastening on the wall. Tom gasped, couldn’t keep it in when he felt how tightly he was secured.

Mischa leaned heavily against him, breath warm on Tom’s neck when the man spoke. “It’s okay if it’s hard for you to obey.” Tom moaned, his worry easing up. He pulled the cuffs experimentally. They didn’t budge, and he pulled harder, jerking his hands.

“Good boy.” Mischa pulled back to fill the bag and set it up. Tom felt so exposed on the wall, unable to move and knowing what was coming.

“It will be harder this time.” Tom started; he hadn’t heard Mischa approach. “You’re standing up, so it’ll take a bit longer, and it might be harder to keep the water in. You might cramp more, too.” Mischa lubed up Tom’s ass and pushed the nozzle in, not giving him any chance to keep up. Tom moaned and pulled at his cuffs. Mischa just followed his movements and kept the nozzle inside him, letting the water begin to flow into him.

“Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck, sir...” Tom struggled, trying to get more of the delicious feeling of the water trickling into him. Mischa let Tom move, holding the nozzle and letting his other hand caress Tom’s stomach. Tom moaned, not knowing what to do.

“You’re doing fine. Just take it.” Tom did, closing his eyes and sinking into the feeling of being strung up against a wall with a tube pushing water into his ass. For Mischa. God, it was good.

The first cramp hit him out of the blue, much sooner than he had expected. He panted his way through it, letting Mischa hold him. Mischa was right; it was so much harder like this. It took forever, and Tom couldn’t keep the water in. He cried out when he felt it start trickling out of him.

“Squeeze your butt. Come on, you can do it.” He couldn’t, but he did. Mischa made him take the entire bag, let him down to release it, and tied him up to take another. When it was over, Tom was feeling weak, his stomach hurting and his legs unsteady.

“Good, now you’re ready.” Tom wanted to protest; he wasn’t ready, he was done. Mischa led him to the bench, though, and strapped him down. Tom gasped when the strap over his back was tightened and struggled to get up, but then he let himself sink down onto the soft leather, closing his eyes and feeling his legs being spread, leaving him open and vulnerable. He felt Mischa’s hand slide over his back.

“Good boy.” Tom could hear Mischa rustle about, but he didn’t want to open his eyes. Then he felt something wet on his ass and moaned softly as Mischa rubbed in the cold lube, opening him up a little.

“Relax and take them.” It was beads, and Tom felt the first one go into him. They were big enough to hurt when the thickest part passed through his sphincter, and he groaned with it. They kept coming, filling him up. He lost count, starting to struggle when he felt another. Too much.

“Take it. I want you to feel full.” Tom whimpered, feeling the pain as the bead went into him, pressing the others in deeper. The next followed right after, making him pant. He felt another at his entrance.

“No more! Please, sir, I can’t take any more.” Mischa gently stroked his ass and kept pushing, forcing the last bead into him. Tom shouted out, his head going up and his ass clenching in his effort to keep the beads inside.

Mischa pushed Tom’s cheeks together, helping him keep them in. “Good boy. Well done.”

Tom let his head fall down on the bench again, gasping with the fullness. He pulled at the cuffs, wanting to feel them enclose his hands and keep him down.

Mischa let his hands slide up and down Tom’s back, soothing. “You’re doing so well. Can you keep them in?”

Tom gasped but nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Mischa let his hands slide down to grab Tom’s balls. “Good. You know this. I count down from ten.” Mischa tightened his hands until the pain shot up through Tom’s stomach, making him yell. Then Mischa started counting down, keeping the pressure and the pain even. Tom struggled, jerking and fighting against the bindings, trying hard to endure it. When it was over, Tom relaxed on the bench, gasping.

“Good. Again.” Tom wanted to protest, but Mischa’s hands were already tightening, and the Dom started counting. Tom shouted, the pain so much. He held out, though, whimpering when Mischa let go.

“I don’t want this, sir. I don’t want it.” Tom tried to get a hold on himself, to stop his panting. Mischa gently stroked his back.

“I know. But you need it. From fifteen this time.” Tom screamed even before Mischa touched him. He couldn’t do this. But he didn’t have a choice, couldn’t do anything but take it and roar with the pain. He kept screaming and screaming, letting the pain go through him and out through his voice. Mischa let go and kissed his neck, wiping away the tears of pain Tom hadn’t even noticed were there.

“Last time, from fifteen. Use your voice.” Tom almost welcomed the pain, even though it made him sick. It was clean and pure and made him scream like he needed to.

Then it was over, and Mischa pulled the beads out of him, making him grunt and jerk every time a ball passed his sphincter. He was opened up by a couple of fingers, and then Mischa was in him. Yes.

Mischa started moving, and Tom let himself fall into it, into being Mischa’s, being taken by Mischa. Tom could hear a long, keening sound going on and on, and he thought that it was his own voice, but he wasn’t sure, not knowing where his pleasure ended and his body began, everything flowing into lust and need and Mischa shouting and grinding into him and his own seed being forced out of him.

Tom came back slowly, feeling Mischa’s weight on his back. With difficulty, he turned his head and clumsily kissed his Dom’s cheek. “Thank you, sir.” Then he closed his eyes, letting his head fall down on the bench again.