Gold Digger

by Aleksandr Voinov

  “Maybe.” Henri smiled at him, and looked completely friendly and pleasant doing that. “Dessert?”

  Nikolai patted his stomach. “I’m good. That was a big steak.”

  “My pleasure,” Henri said and made eye contact with the waiter, who came over, cleared the plates away, and then presented the bill. Henri pulled the leather folder closer and glanced at it, then slapped his card inside and pushed it away, where the waiter gathered it up.

  Nikolai took another big sip of water, half finishing the glass, and then, comfortably halfway between sated and full, waited for Henri to settle the bill before Henri guided him out again.

  Henri was swaying on his feet, and Nikolai glanced worriedly at the car. Would he be driving? “Here. You earned it,” Henri said as if he were indulging his son.

  “I can take a taxi.”

  “Come on, Nikolai. I really don’t want to leave the car out here.” Henri tossed him the keys in a playful arch, and Nikolai caught them.

  “What if I crash it?”

  “Then you crash it. It’s carbon fiber, it’ll be okay.”

  “Yeah, because that’s cheap.” Nikolai blew out a breath, fortifying himself. He unlocked, slid in, and the first thing he did was push back the seat a bit—after Henri explained how. This car was way too complicated for him. “Right, and now?”

  Henri pulled the seat belt across himself. “I’ll deal with the buttons. You just drive.”

  “Okay.” The car started on a button press, and Nikolai struggled to get his head around the controls. Once he’d pulled out and the car was moving, it was easy. He even enjoyed it, though the car was extremely sensitive when he dared to rest his foot on the gas more than lightly. And the tiny wheel also exaggerated every movement. The art of driving this was to proceed as gently as if holding a box of rattlesnakes.

  “Very good.” Henri slumped back in his seat. “Going to drive me home?”

  “Sure. I can get a taxi from there.”

  They headed toward a tall condo building on Lakeshore Boulevard, and Henri made him pull into a garage and park in a reserved space surrounded by other flashy cars. Only then did he take his hands off the wheel. Henri smiled, looking relaxed and happy.

  “You didn’t crash it.”

  “No. Whew.”

  “Well done.”

  Nikolai chuckled. “Thanks. It’s quite a car. Good taste.”

  “I do.” Henri not so much turned his head as let it roll to the side. “Do you know what I’d really like to do?”

  “No?”

  “Course not. I might be really crass now, Nikolai. But I guess who dares wins, eh? Just drunk enough to not care.”

  Nikolai’s chest tightened. “Listen . . .”

  “I’d really like to blow you.” Henri lifted his eyebrows. “Really. Very much.”

  Are you crazy? Is this your idea of corporate bonding? “You’re drunk.”

  Henri shook his head. “I steered you here. I’m mens rea or whatever that’s called. I was thinking about that even while you were doing your presentation. I thought, ‘Henri, damn it, boy, here’s a guy I’d love to suck off.’”

  Nikolai shifted in his seat. First of all, he shouldn’t even listen to a drunk guy fantasizing about giving him a blowjob. Secondly, his gaydar, already not the most reliable one in existence, had spectacularly failed. Thirdly, the idea held appeal, and he wasn’t drunk. He didn’t get offered that many blowjobs, and certainly not from a guy like Henri, who seemed nice and fun and looked good and had absolutely nothing to do with the kind of people Nikolai normally surrounded himself with. Henri wasn’t a rig pig, or anything like all the very fit and dangerous men his father called friends.

  “Why?”

  “You’re incredibly appealing, Nikolai. I like you.”

  “Funny way of showing that. It’s not exactly like a handshake and shoulder pat.”

  “If it were, the world would be a better place, is what I’m thinking.” Henri unbuckled his seat belt. “Now. I’m pretty good at blowing.”

  With every word Henri said, Nikolai’s body grew more interested. It was bizarre, totally out of place, unexpected. Unprofessional. “I’m not actually . . .”

  “Do you have a girlfriend?”

  “Not currently.”

  “Then it’s no big deal. I’ve sucked off straight men. Every one enjoyed it.”

  “No doubt, it’s just . . .” Nikolai chuckled. “We’re also doing this business thing.”

  “Let’s keep that separate. Nothing more than the dinner the company paid for.”

  “Dinner and a blowjob? Full service.”

  “You really need to get a girlfriend if you’ve forgotten the benefits of that,” Henri joked. “Come on. Let’s go upstairs. The garage has cameras; I’m not getting caught down here again.”

  Again? Despite his conservative suit, it seemed Henri was quite the adventurer. Nikolai wasn’t sure how to take that—maybe just at face value. He was still reeling as they walked through the well-lit garage toward an elevator, and thank God they didn’t encounter anybody on the way up.

  The doors opened onto a bright corridor with modern artwork on the walls that his father would have liked. And he really shouldn’t think about Vadim when he was following a stranger for a lewd sex act. He pulled his thoughts away from that angle and focused on Henri, the endearing way he wasn’t quite walking in a straight line, or how he fumbled with his keys. Nikolai somehow doubted that was nerves.

  Henri opened the door into an enormous penthouse large enough to have an impressive fountain in the middle of it: the green soapstone pillar was carved with whorls and abstract animal shapes, water streaming from the top down the sculpted lines and into a square basin. The running water made the air clean and crisp, but the sound of it was even better. He’d spent months in various tropical locations just to lie on the beach and listen to the ocean. Water in all forms fascinated him, and he could have stared at this sculpture for an hour or so and not been bored. “That’s nice.”

  “Bought it from a Cree sculptor. Relative of my mother, which explains my looks.” Henri loosened his tie before he pulled it off completely.

  Nikolai’s mouth went dry just considering why he was doing that. He watched as Henri took his jacket off and hung it up in a wardrobe, tie nonchalantly draped around its shoulders. He opened the cufflinks and dropped them into a trouser pocket. In those finely cut tight trousers, his erection was clearly visible. Jeans just kept things better in place.

  Henri waved him farther into the penthouse. Far to the left was an impressive kitchen with dark gray granite tops, where Henri dropped his phone into an empty steel fruit bowl. To the right was a living area surrounded by massive, fitted bookshelves and a fireplace, all in gray granite and white wood and cream leather, with the occasional drop of color for contrast. Here a burgundy lampshade, there cushions in yellow, orange, rose, and red. And an enormous flatscreen TV.

  Henri touched him on the shoulder. Nikolai realized he didn’t mind the touch at all, even when it became firmer, reassuring, and the fingers ran toward his shoulder blade. “So much tension.”

  “I haven’t done this before.” He’d fucked strangers, sure, but never men. This wasn’t the first time he’d been propositioned, and he’d wondered once or twice, just for a second, what it might be like, but never before had he been interested enough to follow somebody home. What was it about the situation that made it possible? That Henri was a stranger and yet wasn’t?

  Henri’s hand roamed from one side of his back to the other. “Just sit down. Relax. Unless you want to leave?”

  Nikolai headed toward one of the chairs in the living room, noticed that Henri dimmed the light. His feet sank into the large rug, and he thought it was the kind where you could actually kneel down to deliver a blowjob comfortably. He could leave, of course he could. Maybe he should, though he believed Henri when he said he was together enough to know what he was doing. But he was curious, and he was horny. Damn, it was
free sex with somebody who could hold his side of a conversation, and who wouldn’t tattle about it, either. It might even be the best damn thing to come out of this ill-fated trip.

  He fell into the chair and opened his legs, willing himself to relax. He rested his head against the back and reached for his belt.

  “I’ll do that.” Henri touched him on the shoulder again.

  “Okay.” Nikolai glanced up when Henri walked around, and he was curious about the bulge in the guy’s trousers, curious how the sex would be, if gay guys were actually much better at blowjobs, which was what the rumor said. Henri ran his fingers down his arm, a soothing touch that established something between them. “You can take off your jacket if you want.”

  Nikolai leaned forward and fumbled out of it, then tossed it on the couch just a foot away and settled again. Now Henri was kneeling down between his legs, and he opened them wider. This felt weird, receptive, much more so than if a woman were doing it. Henri placed both hands on his thighs, and Nikolai tensed them briefly for Henri’s benefit.

  “That’s gorgeous,” Henri said in a low voice.

  Henri wasn’t half bad, either. Nikolai smiled at him, not quite ready to pay a compliment in return. Henri leaned forward, sliding his hands up Nikolai’s thighs, and the touch might just have been the most erotic thing anybody had done to him in a long time. The awkwardness of the situation made this deliberation and care even more intense. Henri was building a physical trust between them before any more happened.

  The fingers went up to his belt, and slowly, Henri took the tongue and slid it out of the loop, then pulled and opened the buckle. His gaze was firmly on Nikolai’s groin, a single-minded attention and focus that made Nikolai shiver. That alone turned him on, and Henri hadn’t even touched him yet. At least nowhere that really mattered.

  Henri opened the belt and then traced one hand along the seam of the jeans, nothing more than a tickle, barely noticeable, but just seeing it made Nikolai tilt his hips. He hadn’t been quite sure he wanted this, but now he did. If Henri used the same deliberation when blowing him—

  He swallowed and jerked when Henri’s knuckles brushed his balls. Gentle, teasing, so much care and attention and yes, probably skill that Nikolai couldn’t wait to see what else he’d do. He opened his legs wider, giving permission. Even giving his trust.

  Henri leaned in and brushed his cheek against Nikolai’s groin, which made Nikolai gasp. Shit. His dick was completely awake now, wanting to fit into something, anything really, mouth or more. “I believe I have your attention,” Henri teased. “I was thinking about this all evening. All day. I want to make you come, Nikolai.”

  “Then do it.” The words were out before he could consider them. He reached for the buttons of his jeans. “How . . .?”

  “Slowly.” Henri batted his hands away and pulled the first button open. Nikolai tensed his stomach, tried not to squirm on the chair, tried not to spur him on. He enjoyed the teasing, although it freaked him out. Maybe it was just the novelty, or the fact that he’d never taken any of the invitations he’d gotten from other men. He didn’t want his friends and colleagues to find out he’d even consider that, and once it was in circulation, gossip traveled fast and was unstoppable. And largely, he’d been happy all his life to hang out with straight men and play by their rules while the gay guys did their thing. Just not his world.

  Warily, he watched Henri open the other buttons, hoping he’d pull his jeans and boxers down and get to work, but all Henri did was lean in and nuzzle against the patch of underwear. And his dick. Henri’s warm breath touched him there and Nikolai groaned, digging his fingers into the armrests. The warm, moist breath was just a teaser for the real thing, but it turned him on something fierce. Henri’s hand slid up under his shirt to his belly, and Nikolai remembered to breathe. It should feel weirder, stranger, but it didn’t. Instead it thrilled him, fired up every nerve.

  “Can you take this off?”

  Nikolai opened his shirt. Henri pushed his undershirt up, baring his abs and chest to his nipples, then placed a kiss on his belly. Interesting that he’d start a blowjob nowhere near his dick. Nikolai moaned when Henri licked the skin there, tracing the lines of his stomach down toward his boxers.

  And while Nikolai’s mind was still focused on where that tongue was going, Henri pulled his jeans and boxers down, then, in one elegant, skillful motion, took his dick into his mouth.

  Nikolai arched into the touch, turned on beyond all reason. Henri’s first movements were deep, taking him in almost completely, as if he didn’t have to prepare or get used to him at all. All Nikolai did was sit back and enjoy himself. Maybe he should have done this sooner. He’d been missing out; this felt amazing. What on earth had he been worried about?

  Henri cupped and gently squeezed his balls, perfectly in time with the movements of his head. The sounds, those slurps and stifled moans, went deep into his guts, tightening his balls, and the view of the wide-open lips wrapped tightly around his dick, sliding up and down—now, that was a totally different category to imagining. One of Henri’s hands wasn’t visible, and his shoulder was moving in a pumping motion. Henri was jerking himself off in time with his strokes, his face showing nothing but pleasure and desire and need. It was beautiful. Sexy as anything Nikolai had ever seen or felt, and he wanted nothing more than to wallow in it, allow it to happen, allow Henri to get him off.

  He reached down to run two fingertips along Henri’s cheekbone. Henri promptly lost his rhythm and glanced up at him. And maybe that look, and that twitch of his wide-open lips, was the sexiest thing of all. Nikolai lost what he wanted to say in that look, and Henri concentrated again on his pleasure. Their pleasure. Nikolai cleared his throat, gasped when Henri took him down to the root, his throat muscles tightening. He rested his hand in Henri’s hair, splayed fingers through the black curls, half yearning to grab him and hold him in place and fuck his throat, and half aware that wasn’t exactly polite.

  He still pushed up, and Henri caught the hint. He was going for it now, pumping up and down on him, then curling his fist around Nikolai’s length, jerking him off while concentrating on the tip. That did it. Nikolai felt the orgasm build rapidly, like pieces falling into place. His balls drew up and every muscle tensed. “Shit, I’m . . .”

  Just before Nikolai climaxed, Henri pulled away and kept jerking him off. Nikolai came against the man’s cheek and lips and throat, spurt after spurt, and Henri kept going, stroking him slowly and firmly through it.

  Nikolai fell back into the chair, all tension drained into nothing, the post-orgasmic crash deep and entirely satisfying. Henri’s hand on his own dick was still moving.

  “Let me . . . see,” Nikolai said, breathless. Henri looked at him quizzically, and Nikolai dropped his hand lower and mimicked jerking off. “Show me.”

  Henri clambered to his feet, supported himself on one of the armrests, and kept moving, face so focused and intent he had to be close. Only his fly was open, his cock sticking out of the suit trousers, and he was moving his hand over it frantically, alternating between squeezing the head in his palm and a full-fisted death grip. Nikolai hooked his foot around Henri’s thigh and pulled him closer until the man was stooping and nearly covering him, then reached out and touched the harshly moving hand, tentative, feeling the damp of sweat and pre-cum, suddenly aware of the enormous power in this, the generosity, Henri’s vulnerability. He tightened his hand and felt Henri’s arousal echo in his own body. He wanted to make him feel good, give a little back. He didn’t think he’d ever be ready to take him in his mouth, but a hand was fine. Even hot.

  Henri dug his free hand into the back of the chair while Nikolai helped him the last bit of the way. He groaned and stiffened, and just a second later, Nikolai felt Henri’s cum splatter on his belly and his chest. It was oddly, weirdly touching to experience this, and to touch a guy who was beside himself with the desperate need to come and watch him as he came.

  He pulled Henri closer for a mom
ent, against his shoulder, and stroked his back. “Feel better?”

  Henri groaned and nodded. “Much. Damn.”

  Nikolai closed his eyes and held him, let his breathing calm down, but his weight got really uncomfortable in that position, so he nudged Henri to get up. Henri pushed to his feet, still wobbly, and looked down at himself—the crumpled suit, his semi-hard dick hanging out, his shirt splattered with cum. Nikolai didn’t look any better.

  “Too bad I left my phone in the kitchen. I’d love a snap of that.”

  Nikolai covered his dick with his hand. “Memory will have to be enough.”

  “Yeah, well.” Henri pulled his shirt off, baring a sleek, defined upper body, and balled it into one hand. Of all the bare torsos he’d seen in the showers or on the beach, this was the first to fascinate him. “Want to stay around for a shower?”

  Nikolai nodded and levered his boneless body out of the chair. He pulled his shirt off and the undershirt with it. He should have a shower to wash off that sex smell; might as well do it here.

  “My God, a guy can dream,” Henri said.

  Nikolai quirked an eyebrow and glanced down at his abs. “What, you have a blue collar kink?” One of his exes had helpfully informed him that he looked very much like a construction worker—but one from a sexy calendar, with the ripped abs instead of the potbelly. She was a lawyer and half her attraction to him had been about the fact that he looked rough and powerful. He wiped his chest with his undershirt, suddenly self-conscious of how he looked without even a vestige of the nice suit his father had chosen for him.

  Henri pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, thinking. He shook his head. “I just hadn’t expected quite that. You’re even more gorgeous out of your clothes.”

  Nikolai shrugged. “You can take the guy out of the oil, but not the oil out of the guy.” He could still smell the crude and the drilling fluid, feel the constant vibration in his bones, and woke some nights with the sour taste of claustrophobia triggered by being trapped on a tiny speck of metal surrounded by absolutely nothing but ice-cold, steel-gray ocean hungry to devour and kill them.