Gold Digger

by Aleksandr Voinov

  Henri laughed, holding half of a date between his fingers and gesturing at Nikolai. “That’s what a foodgasm looks like.”

  “Wow. These are incredible.”

  “Yep. Wish I could say I found this place, but I didn’t.”

  “Who did?”

  “An entirely forgettable ex. Best thing he ever did.”

  “Ouch.” Nikolai shook his head. “Hope you won’t be saying the same about me a few weeks down the line.”

  Henri stared at him, then chuckled. “If I ever got into the privileged position to call you my boyfriend, I’d make damn sure you wouldn’t turn into an ex.”

  Damn. Damn. It was so sweet and so awkward. Not bad awkward. He just didn’t want to hurt Henri. And this was banter, right? The man would hardly think that a blowjob and a handjob made a good basis for anything.

  Though you’ve slept with women who ended up your girlfriends, Nikolai. Those usually started with a romantic meal, too.

  Henri winked. “Sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “You’re embarrassed. Don’t worry, I know what I’m getting myself into.”

  “I’m just not very good at talking about this. I don’t want to create any expectation that won’t work out. You’re a nice guy, Henri, I think you deserve better than a hit-and-run.”

  “You make it sound like I’m roadkill.”

  Nikolai laughed out loud and tamped it down when a few other patrons turned to look at him. They were too polite to glare, but he suddenly was aware of all those people around. Privacy, space was always the most precious commodity, from his time on the freighters to the years spent on oil rigs. “Touché. Roadkill. That’s really funny.”

  Henri smiled at him and indicated the menu. “Dessert?”

  “I’m good. I can’t imagine anything’s going to top that date.”

  Henri gave him a weird, amused grin. “Personally, I thought they looked like bottoms crying out, ‘take me, take me.’”

  Nikolai chuckled. “Let’s not discuss the sexual preferences of fruit.”

  “But?”

  “Go somewhere more private?”

  “Ah, that kind of dessert.” Henri waved to the waiter, who produced the bill and took Henri’s card in the time Nikolai needed to finish his glass of wine. On the way out, Nikolai grabbed one of the business cards from a brass bowl positioned in the entranceway and slipped it into his back pocket. His father would love this place, and he enjoyed traveling, so it was entirely possible he’d get to try the dates, too. Restless feet was one of the things they shared.

  He settled back in the car, Henri driving (he’d barely had more than half a glass of wine), and tried not to be nervous.

  “So how did you like the mezze?”

  “Loved them, thanks.”

  “And the other dish?” Henri started the engine and placed both hands on the wheel.

  “Which?”

  “The anticipation?”

  Oh, that. Yeah, he was slightly turned on, mostly from knowing there would be sex, and from the easy banter. And the memory of the first encounter. He’d be in good hands for the rest of the night, and he liked the guy. Henri was easy to talk to, and he had that wicked sense of humor that could snap like a whip. He made this all feel easy, natural, and maybe it was. They would just go and have a good time.

  “The anticipation worked, too.”

  Henri flashed his teeth. “You’ve never fucked a guy?”

  “No. Virgin territory, so to speak.”

  Henri laughed. “Anal sex?”

  “Um, yeah. I’ll be okay. I’ll . . .” He blew out a breath because, damn, his jeans were much tighter now. “I want to try.”

  “Do it or don’t, there is no try,” Henri mocked.

  “Don’t put me in mind of weird-talking green aliens.”

  “No.” Henri pulled out of the parking space and gunned it. The car leaped like something wild and dangerous, though Henri slowed down when they hit the main road. It was exhilarating, all that controlled power and Henri’s easy panache that seemed so very French, though in this case was French-Canadian. Being with Henri felt a bit like a holiday, like nothing else mattered, like he could just be himself and relax. Enjoy what was offered, regardless of what other people might think of him. Act on attraction, for once in his life. Henri was taking care of all that. He could trust him.

  They pulled into the garage and Nikolai almost regretted that the ride was over. Although that other ride would begin in a few minutes, he reckoned, and that would be even more erotic. “Damn, five minutes more and I’d have come in my jeans.”

  Henri laughed. “You might want to consider buying one of these cars for yourself when you collect your payout once Cybele starts to produce.”

  “For that, I’d have to settle somewhere with nice smooth roads.” Nikolai stepped out of the car and waited for Henri to lock it, then fell into step with him. “Maybe I’ll be one of those guys in their midlife crisis who’ll get a car like this so pulling is easier,” Nikolai said as they waited for the elevator.

  “Pulling? What do you mean?”

  “Score? Sex? Pick up, um, guys?”

  Henri shook his head. “You have a low opinion of me.”

  “Just saying, you’d score driving a tractor.”

  The elevator doors opened and Henri gestured for Nikolai to come inside. On an impulse, Nikolai took him by the shoulders, shoved him in, and pressed against him chest to chest. Henri made an oof sound as if punched, but Nikolai felt an epic-sized boner against his groin. With their faces so close, Henri’s pupils looked blown, and he licked his lips. Nikolai wasn’t sure what was sexier—that sweet pressure against his own dick or how turned on Henri was. For him. As sad and futile as this whole thing was, it was also damned hot. If sex was the only thing he could give Henri, he’d make it the best sex he could.

  Henri pulled him closer, as if to kiss him, breath ghosting over his face. Nikolai wasn’t sure how he’d respond, if he’d really mind that much if Henri kissed him now, but Henri, after a split-second that betrayed he might be thinking the same, just kissed his throat, which made Nikolai press harder against him.

  “Eighth floor,” Henri murmured. “I can’t reach the button.”

  “Oh. Yeah.” He stretched and hit it, already distracted by the gentle sucking on his skin, then just a hint of teeth. He pressed closer, ground his dick against Henri’s, and God, but he loved Henri’s gasp and the twinge of arousal in his own body.

  “I was . . . going to take it slow,” Henri whispered near his ear.

  “You’ll take it all right,” Nikolai said, which made Henri moan.

  The elevator doors pinged open and they just barely manage to loosen the clinch long enough to make it to the door. Henri already looked wickedly turned on, and Nikolai was pretty sure any onlooker (like those black CCTV bulbs on the ceiling) could tell exactly how hard they both were.

  Henri got the door open and Nikolai followed, closed it with a heel kick. “Get upstairs or I’ll drag you.”

  “Maybe I like getting dragged,” Henri teased, but he was already shedding clothes. Nikolai kicked off his shoes and pulled his shirt over his head, dropped it on the couch on the way up.

  Henri walked backward and cupped his own dick in his trousers. “You going to fuck me rough?”

  Nikolai wanted to tear his clothes off and sink into his body, fuck him hard and long—not that he’d ever really thought about how he would have sex with a guy, but right now, that was the mood—all his tension seeking an outlet—but he forced himself to stay in control. One thing was a fantasy, the other thing a very real chance for disaster. “On the bed.”

  Henri turned and switched on the nightstand lamp, toed his shoes off and opened his belt. He pulled his trousers and boxers down, then his socks, and was completely naked, his finely groomed body proud and vulnerable at the same time.

  “Lie down,” Nikolai said, his voice suddenly hoarse.

  Henri lay down on his belly,
legs spread, offering up a small, round, firm ass. No hair there, something right out of an art shot. He reached over to the nightstand and pulled out a tube of lube and a strip of condoms, then relaxed into the mattress.

  Nikolai pulled off his jeans and his boxers, got on top of Henri, and took his hands, which were lightly curled on either side of his head. Nikolai’s arousal was tinged with an odd tenderness. That a guy would invite him like this, be ready to take him inside . . . It seemed like an enormous and generous thing to do.

  “Please, Nikolai.”

  Nikolai ran a hand down Henri’s back, marveled at the curve, then to his ass, and slipped his knees between Henri’s legs. He opened farther, lifted off the mattress, and Nikolai clearly saw his balls and dick, heavy and exposed. Hot as hell that Henri would trust him like that; Nikolai wouldn’t have been able to do the same, which didn’t seem fair, but he wasn’t there yet. He’d never wanted anything up his ass, certainly not a guy’s dick. But now that he was facing Henri’s, he didn’t find anything repellent about it. Touching, erotic, brave, vulnerable. A dozen emotions, all part of a greater one that he struggled to define. Tenderness? Care? Respect?

  He took the condom strip and opened one, then rolled it down over his own dick. He wanted to try things and wasn’t sure they’d be welcome or even feel very good. Rub his dick along Henri’s, feel his balls brush against his cock, squeeze his balls in his hand and find out if Henri liked it as much as he did.

  He took the lube, too, squeezed a big dollop into his hand and smeared it on his dick, then slid his fingers into Henri’s crack, found the little pucker there, and eased two fingers inside him.

  Henri groaned and pushed back. “It’s okay. I’m more than ready.”

  Nikolai positioned himself, then pushed into the resistance, the heat of his body, and Henri’s moan hit him right in the chest. Henri’s breath came in a hiss when he thrust in deeper, but he kept pushing back, so Nikolai assumed he was just getting used to him.

  He ran his hand along Henri’s flank, then reached around to Henri’s dick, which was still hot and heavy. He kept sliding in, deeper, amazed at how good it felt and at Henri’s panting breaths.

  “Damn, you’re always the nice guy,” Henri groaned.

  “Want rough?”

  “Actually . . .” Henri laughed, a shaky, turned-on sound. “I’m not sure anymore. I thought that would be easier for you.”

  Nikolai pushed forward, sheathing the last inch or so in Henri’s body. Seeing that ass take him fully was mind-blowing. He was completely inside him, felt Henri’s muscles work to accommodate him.

  “Oh shit,” Henri groaned. “Yes. Give me rough.”

  Which, yes, might be easier. Nikolai grabbed his hips and began fucking in earnest, at first short, shallow thrusts, but then deeper and more forceful, making the bed creak and groan. Henri was up on his elbows, forehead pressed into the mattress, moaning and sometimes whispering, but Nikolai couldn’t make out what over his own panting and the terrible, sweet, desperate need and desire. This was the real thing, no less intense than if he were fucking a woman, just slightly different parts to deal with, slightly different sensations, the angular hips and the timbre of the voice, the short hair and broader shoulders, different smells and textures. He fucked into the clenching and the subdued strength, the way Henri surrendered his body to be used in return for pleasure. And Henri clearly loved it, every groan and pant nothing but give me more.

  Nikolai pushed him down just as Henri’s hand began to move toward his own dick, pressed him flat on his belly, and lay on top of him, hands holding Henri’s against the mattress, legs keeping him open, and fucked into the tight heat, the writhing body. And thought it was a shame that he couldn’t see Henri’s face, his lips, or that twinkle in his eyes. But thinking was overrated, and he concentrated on plowing into him with all his strength, that fierce need that sought to explode.

  “Nikolai,” Henri whispered.

  “Yeah?”

  “Look in the mirror.”

  Nikolai glanced to the side before he could stop himself, and saw that Henri was looking that way, too. Their gazes met, and then he saw the rest—his larger body on top of Henri, his cock vanishing over and over in Henri’s ass, their muscles, the sweat-gleaming skin, the way he possessively pinned Henri to endure the fucking. The way Henri’s face was blank with complete pleasure, yet watching him. Maybe it should shock him, but it didn’t. It turned him on more. They worked together, every gleaming line, every taut muscle.

  “You’re gorgeous,” Henri told him between pants.

  Nikolai changed the angle, bore down harder and faster, flesh slapping flesh because he was getting close and couldn’t possibly stop now. He needed to come, and even before he could properly formulate a question about how far along Henri was, Henri’s sounds became more desperate as he bucked his hips against the mattress, his inner muscles tightening. Wow. Was he coming? Just from being fucked?

  Nikolai thrust harder and faster, desperate to set himself off now, and it came sooner than expected, more violently, too, somewhere between explosion and blackout as he emptied himself into Henri, shooting what felt like an enormous load. He’d never seen himself orgasm, but in the mirror, his head was tilted back, lips open, eyes nearly closed, a frown as if he was in pain. Weird, but unspeakably sexy, and he thrust into Henri a couple more times for good measure while he was still completely hard.

  He then reached down to secure the condom before he pulled out and got off Henri. Henri’s ass was spread far enough that Nikolai could see the well-fucked hole, reddened and glistening with lube, and something twinged in Nikolai’s balls. Damn, he’d take that vision with him, no doubt.

  “That was . . .” Henri reached down toward his ass. “That was good.”

  Nikolai took Henri’s wrist and twisted his hand, took two of his fingers and pushed them in and out of his own hole a few times. “What a hungry little hole. You’d like another cock, wouldn’t you?”

  Henri groaned. “You filthy bastard,” he said in good humor, but Nikolai noticed no resistance.

  “You know, I bet you’d love a crew of rig workers to fuck you one by one.”

  Henri shuddered. “Would you be the one who starts?”

  “Maybe. If you blew me hard first.”

  Henri swallowed. “Shit, I wish I hadn’t come yet. Whole crew would hurt.”

  “We’d keep you from coming the whole night. We’d just use your hole and nobody would touch you.”

  Henri chuckled. “Damn, I’ve created a monster.”

  Nikolai grinned and released his hand. “Would that turn you on? A gangbang?”

  “I don’t know any gay guy who’d say no, you know. It’s a fantasy.”

  Nikolai nodded and sat up, condom dangling between his fingers. He didn’t quite trust his legs yet, but the alternative was to collapse in a heap and fall asleep immediately. So he pushed himself up and went to the bathroom, where he put the condom in the trash and looked in the mirror. The sex flush and glow reminded him of what he’d done, but he felt no different than before. Or even a week ago. He took the moment to piss while he was on his feet, then washed his hands, neck, and face and returned to the bedroom.

  Henri had turned around, sprawled on his back on the bed, looking debauched, hair damp with sweat, his dick not fully limp yet. Nikolai paused to study that male landscape and suddenly felt shy.

  “I think I’d better head home.”

  Henri opened his eyes and turned his head to study him. “You don’t have to. If you stay around, you could fuck me again. And in the morning.”

  It sounded too good. Stay all night and fuck Henri, maybe get another blowjob out of it. He could very well come three or four more times in between sleeping. And yeah, if he bailed now, that would make it look like a hit-and-run. A straight guy who only hung around long enough to blow a load.

  Nikolai reached for his boxers and jeans. “I’m sorry.”

  “Okay.” Henri reached down for t
he duvet and pulled it over his legs. “I’d see you out, but . . .”

  “No, that’s fine.” Nikolai pulled his jeans up and buttoned them, then reached over to place a hand on Henri’s shoulder. “Thanks for this.”

  Henri just nodded, but didn’t open his eyes. He didn’t pretend to be sleepy—at least Nikolai hoped that wasn’t the case. And damn, how easy would it be to just lie down next to him and fall asleep, too.

  Once he got moving, the grogginess would wash out of his system, though, and that was for the better. He simply couldn’t risk another round of sex. This way, he could just pretend it was about the arousal and the foreplay in the restaurant and nothing more. That was done; he had no excuse to stay around. And it wouldn’t be fair to Henri, either.

  He found the rest of his clothes and got dressed. Within minutes, he was pulling the door shut behind him.

  When he arrived back at the hotel, he was wide awake again, so he stopped at the local Tim Horton’s for a huge coffee and a muffin. Sex did make him ravenous, though tiredness usually won out before he could stuff his face.

  At loose ends in the smallish hotel room, he stripped and caught a whiff of what he thought was likely Henri’s scent and the fragrance of his shower gel. He paused, remembered clearly the man’s body under his.

  Why on earth had he left, again? Oh, yeah, it wasn’t fair to Henri.

  He took a sip from the too-hot coffee, very nearly scalding his lips, and started his laptop, then jumped under the shower for a quick wash. He then wrapped himself in a bathrobe and sat down in front of the computer to check his emails.

  Anya. Boy, that would be fun. She never wrote, always resolved her stuff on the phone, but maybe emailing had kept her from shouting at him. Well, a guy could hope.

  He should probably leave it and read it tomorrow. But now that it was sitting there in his inbox, it wouldn’t let him rest without knowing what it said.

  She’d written this an hour ago.

  Nikolai—I understand you will not get in touch with Liz. You don’t owe me anything, and I think part of you has always known that we don’t belong together. As a doctor, I do believe that our genes make us who we are, and we really only share a mother, and that hasn’t worked out so well, has it?