If The Seas Catch Fire(95)

He poured it into his hand, and then reached between them, and when he closed his fingers around Dom’s thick erection, they both exhaled. Dom closed his eyes, licking his lips, and rocked his hips a little as Sergei smoothed lube onto every inch of his dick.

Dom offered a pillow, and when Sergei lifted his hips, Dom slid it under him.

Sergei spread his legs wide, heart pounding as Dom guided himself in. God, yes. The burn made his toes curl. Even more, though, the sight of Dom, brow knitted with concentration, lips taut, abs quivering with the exertion of slow, smooth strokes as he worked himself deeper.

Once he was moving easily inside Sergei, Dom leaned down and kissed him. His hips still moved, but he seemed more focused on what they were doing with their mouths. Sergei didn’t mind. Not in the least. One hand in Dom’s hair, the other on his ribs, he kissed him and rocked his hips beneath him and loved every goddamned second.

He’d never had sex like this before. Usually it was sweat and panting and driving each other insane until they came. And then maybe they’d collapse together if they liked each other well enough, and maybe they’d catch their breath and do it all over again until sleep took over and tomorrow hurt.

This… this was all that and more.

Every touch, every kiss, every frantic, trembling movement, added up to something he’d never imagined. This wasn’t the cooperative pursuit of pleasure and orgasms. They held each other, clawed at each other, like they thought they might actually start fusing together. Molecule by molecule, cell by cell, not just getting under each other’s skin but becoming part of each other. One thing that could only become two again if it was broken.

Dom’s breath caught. He groaned softly, breaking the kiss for a couple of heartbeats, and then claimed Sergei’s mouth again as he rode him faster. Sergei gasped, letting his head fall back. Though he missed the touch of Dom’s lips to his, he was too overwhelmed, and then Dom was kissing his neck anyway, warm lips skating along his throat, and Sergei swore softly.

Dom pushed himself up onto his arms. Eyes screwed shut, he bit his lip and rode Sergei harder. He muttered something—Italian curses, no doubt—and groaned, thrusting hard enough to slam the headboard against the wall. Sergei’s eyes watered—Jesus, he loved Dom’s cock.

“Fuck,” Dom breathed. “Oh… f*ck.” With a violent shudder, he threw his head back. The only sound that escaped him, though, was a strangled cry, and then he was completely silent as he thrust a few more times.

He slumped over Sergei, trembling and panting. Even after he’d pulled out, he just stayed like that for a moment, as if he wasn’t sure his arms could handle anything more complex than simply holding him upright.

Then he lowered himself a little and planted a soft kiss in the middle of Sergei’s chest. And another one, lower this time.

Three kisses, and Sergei was ready to come unglued. Squirming beneath him, kneading handfuls of coarse motel sheets, he struggled not to come from anticipation alone.

Yes, Dom. Yes, please. Please…

In the same moment Dom took Sergei’s dick into his mouth, he slid two fingers inside him, and the twin sensations almost sent Sergei through the roof.

Fingers moved. Lips and tongue teased. Nerve endings turned to electricity. Sergei was sure he was levitating off the bed, and he didn’t care as long as Dom’s mouth kept working that insane magic. When did he learn to deep-throat like that? Hell, it didn’t matter. He’d learned, and he was doing it, and then he was focusing on the head of Sergei’s cock, swirling his tongue as if he knew that would drive Sergei right out of his f*cking mind.

Sergei’s vision blurred. He thought he heard himself cry out, but he wasn’t sure and didn’t care—he was flying, and he was trembling, and Dom didn’t stop until Sergei managed to whimper “N-no more.”

Sergei collapsed onto the pillows again. “Oh… my God…”

Dom kissed him lightly, his lips slick and salty. “I think you’ve spoiled me.” Another kiss, shorter this time. “Sex with you is amazing.”

“L-likewise.” Sergei wrapped his arms around him, and they just kissed lazily.

After a while, Dom got up, and he helped Sergei up. They showered together, barely noticing how cramped the stall was since they were still wrapped up in each other.

Clean, more or less dried off, they climbed into bed together. Sergei had little doubt they’d be fooling around again before long, but for now, they just held each other.

Why don’t I want to let go?

Dom said he’d be gone for a while, but he’d f*cked Sergei like he never wanted to leave this hard bed. And now Sergei didn’t want to leave it either.

In the beginning, Sergei hadn’t even bothered promising himself that this was sex and nothing more because there’d been no need to promise that. He didn’t get attached to gangsters, especially not Maisanos. And there was no room for attachment. He had Mama, and he had his plan. He needed nothing else, and he welcomed nothing else.

But here he was, lying beside Dom, listening to him breathe and memorizing every arc those calloused fingers drew on his shoulder. He didn’t want to leave, and yet his chest hurt because this felt like goodbye. Like a real goodbye. The kind people said when they knew they’d never resurface. The kind that happened in this brutal, unforgiving world where a man, upon realizing there was a price on his head and a red dot on his chest, would often just surrender. Perhaps out of honor, perhaps out of the realization that there was no escape, so why run? Perhaps out of relief, as if this were the closest to suicide their god would allow.