Gold Digger

by Aleksandr Voinov

  He took Henri’s dick in hand and stroked him in time with Henri’s movements, which led to an awesome feedback loop where Henri tried to speed up by riding him harder and faster, getting them both close too damn fast, because this was delirious and amazing. So Nikolai slowed the jerks, leading to breathless protests. He pulled at Henri’s sweaty shoulder until the man bent down, and the thrusting and sliding stopped for a moment as Henri dropped to his elbows over Nikolai, faces close, breath mingling.

  Nikolai didn’t think, just pushed up a bit, seeing Henri’s face light up with pleasure. Nothing more than shallow thrusts, rolling his hips, but feeling without a doubt that he had Henri in a good place there, and damn, this was mind-blowing. He grabbed Henri’s head and pulled him that little bit closer, into an open-mouthed, wild kiss. So what if he was a guy. It wasn’t as though anybody was keeping tabs on the gender of his sex partners; he had nothing to prove, no promises to keep; he could simply do what felt good and right.

  “Shit, Nikolai,” Henri murmured between kisses. “I thought you’d never kiss me. Though I’d hoped.”

  Nikolai continued to jerk him off, running his pre-cum-slick palm over the head of Henri’s dick, and suddenly, Henri got all tight and taut on and around him. “Close. Nikolai. So fucking close.”

  “Move.”

  Henri obeyed, riding him again, harsh and fast, and it all turned into a crazy blur of flesh slapping together. Then Henri’s cock pulsed and he spilled over Nikolai’s hand and up to his chest, but Nikolai didn’t care because was right behind, one hand digging into Henri’s hip, trying to control him, holding him in place as he kept thrusting upward. Henri was grinding against him, a sweet torture through his orgasm. And then it was over, though the adrenaline buzz made Nikolai fly.

  Holy shit.

  Henri bent down again to kiss him on the lips. “That was good.”

  “Say that again,” Nikolai breathed, overwhelmed.

  Henri gave him an ironic glance, which made Nikolai almost laugh. Here he was, a guy on his dick, the guy’s cum all over his chest, and he was grinning like a schoolboy who’s just received his very first handjob.

  He tapped Henri’s thigh. “Get off.”

  “Done.”

  “Fool.”

  Henri laughed and climbed off, and Nikolai secured the condom and sat up, pulling it off while the cum ran down his chest. He touched a drop of it and rubbed it against his skin. It didn’t freak him out; it seemed touching, even hot. Unlikely he’d ever get into bukkake, but he didn’t mind Henri’s.

  Henri flopped down on the bed. “Are you one of those compulsive after-sex showerers?”

  “No, but I do get rid of the condom.”

  “What a well-raised boy you are.” Henri’s grin was evil, but very relaxed.

  “Keep that up and we can do that burglar fantasy in a little while.”

  Henri stretched out like a cat expecting its belly to be stroked. “Would love to. You’re damn good at fucking, and you have the tool for it, too.”

  “Speaking of the tool.” Nikolai got up and headed to the bathroom to clean up. He wiped the cum off his chest with a wad of toilet paper, but he was too tired for a shower. Right now, the only thing he wanted was to lie down and snooze while he waited to get hard again, and then fuck Henri again. That alone made things feel a lot more serious than they had been before. That he couldn’t imagine not wanting to fuck him.

  He drank some water from the tap and returned to the bedroom, where Henri must have straightened the blankets and pillows, though Nikolai could have sworn he hadn’t moved at all.

  “Just a couple of things . . .”

  Henri turned his head to glance at Nikolai. “Hmm? Is it about our kinks or are we having a deep conversation now? Because I’m not up for the latter.”

  Nikolai grinned and climbed into bed, prodding Henri over onto his side. “Spooning okay?”

  “Oh yeah.” Henri pushed his ass back toward Nikolai. The slickness from the lube was inviting all by itself, but then Henri opened his legs and placed Nikolai’s semi-hard dick between his thighs. Which was terribly intimate, but Nikolai liked it.

  “So you’re like . . . the passive guy?”

  “Passive? You think I’m passive?” Henri chuckled. “Funny, some people think I’m way too pushy.”

  “I mean the guy who gets fucked. The, what do you call it?”

  “Bottom.” Henri glanced over his shoulder at him. “I’ve been called a power bottom, actually, but I’m what they call a versatile bottom. I’m not sure those terms really help.”

  “So you’d want to do this to me?”

  “At the very least, I’m going to introduce you to your prostate. That could involve fingers, or special toys, not necessarily a dick. But all in good time. It’s like learning a new language, so we can take this as fast or as slow as you want. But you should give it a shot. There’s a whole range of pleasure just waiting for you to take that step. It’s worth trying.”

  Nikolai placed an arm around Henri, enjoying the smooth skin and muscle of his shoulder against his chest, his neck against his face. Yeah, this was starting to feel serious. He wanted that sexual education. He wanted to fuck Henri again and again, though wasn’t too sure about the other way round. He was in good hands here, both unashamedly erotic and considerate. “All right. I’m nervous about that.”

  “No need to be. If you don’t like it, I can play the bottom. I doubt I’d ever get tired of your dick up my ass or down my throat.”

  Nikolai shifted uneasily, then kissed Henri’s neck. “That’s lucky, I guess.”

  “You guess?” Henri laughed. “Damn, teaching you is so much fun, Nikolai. Don’t ever turn into a jaded old queen, promise me?”

  “You are older than I am.”

  That harrumph sound was probably disapproval. Nikolai chuckled against Henri’s neck and felt himself relax and sink deeper into the easy calm that came just before sleep. That was fine. Vadim likely didn’t expect him back tonight, and even if he tore himself away, Vadim would be in bed.

  He did wake up in the middle of the night, though—from a sex dream, he imagined—and was so hard there was simply no way he’d get back to sleep. Drowsy, he managed to put on a condom, but couldn’t find the lube, so he used spit. Henri was unresponsive, way, way under, and Nikolai remembered that dirty fantasy. He took Henri’s wrist, twisted his arm on his back and pushed on top. Henri awoke with a start.

  “What—”

  Nikolai pressed his cock against Henri’s hole, and Henri groaned, realizing immediately what was going on.

  “Who are you? What do you want?” He didn’t sound quite convincing, rather a touch too dramatic, designed to turn him on, much like the porn movie version.

  But God, that was hot, and Nikolai used his body weight to keep him pinned. This fuck was completely fierce, uncaring, except, of course, not. A fantasy of force and frantic rutting, with no tenderness, flesh slapping together, and Henri almost shouted when he came. Nikolai’s hand muffled the sounds; his groans and begging were way too loud for a hotel.

  When Henri had come, Nikolai pulled out, yanked the condom off, grabbed Henri’s head, pried his jaws apart with his thumbs, and thrust all the way in. Henri, breathless, gagged on him, but didn’t fight back, instead endured, no, encouraged the wild face-fuck until Nikolai came, though he managed to pull out and come on his face rather than down his throat.

  “Jesus Christ,” Henri muttered, voice rough. He wiped at his face, leaned out of bed to fish for some item of clothing to clean himself.

  Nikolai couldn’t help laughing. “Don’t put such ideas in my head if you don’t want me to act on them.”

  “I look forward to our plane restroom quickies then. You’re just screaming to join the mile-high club.”

  “Already a member.”

  Henri laughed. “You would be. Well, there are broom closets and, err, blowjobs in the corner office, the photocopier, and maybe we can try my car again. The hood, as you
suggested.”

  “Wall and door first,” Nikolai challenged. “Or I’m playing burglar.”

  “Traffic cop pulling me over for a speeding ticket.”

  “I’m on board with that.”

  “You’d wear a uniform?”

  “Why not.” Nikolai rubbed his thumb across Henri’s lips. “I’m sure you’d make a hot traffic offender.”

  “Certainly a willing one.” Henri sucked on his thumb, promising everything for that particular game, and Nikolai let him have it, pushing deeper and down on the tongue, grabbing Henri’s lower jaw with his free fingers. No doubt who was calling the shots, and by now he knew that Henri loved being reminded.

  They fell asleep again, tangled and all over the bed, and then showered together in the morning because Henri had pushed him away and told him he had a plane to catch. Didn’t mean they didn’t have time for a mutual handjob in the shower, which, Henri told him, was much more efficient when they showered together.

  “You actually booked the first fucking flight out of Wellington?”

  Henri was working on getting his tie properly knotted. “I didn’t expect this meeting to go quite so well. Besides, my uncle doesn’t know I’m here and he better never find out. Officially, I’m getting my bathroom re-tiled.”

  “Are you?”

  “Yes, but a friend is keeping an eye on the workers. My uncle knows I’m anal about my condo, so I’m officially ‘working from home.’” Complete with air quotes, one end of the tie in one hand. Then he adjusted the thing and shrugged into his jacket. “I gotta go, loverboy.”

  “Fine. I’m . . . I’m staying ‘til Friday, flying out Saturday from Palmy, then Auckland, Dubai, Zvartnots. Then I’ll likely collapse in a hotel somewhere and drive out to meet Ruslan when I wake up.”

  “Collapse? No stamina, young people today.” Henri was cheerfully packing his overnight bag, which was just a matter of tossing in a couple shirts, underwear, and socks, then zipped it shut. “Remember the South Africans. You’ll want to make some calls as soon as possible. My uncle moves fast.”

  “Okay. I’ll call Ruslan after breakfast. Do you have time for breakfast?”

  “I’ll grab something at the airport.” Henri pulled his phone off the charger, threw the charger into his bag, slipped the phone into his pocket. “I want to see you again, Nikolai. Soon.”

  “I’ll . . . I’ll let you know. Right now, I can’t plan in advance.” And wasn’t that the kicker? Now that he wanted to try this, he had no idea how to make it work. He traveled so much, he had no base. Worse, he was virtually stateless, a digital nomad. He actually used Cybele’s corporate address to get mail.

  Henri gave him a long look, but then nodded. “It can be done, Nikolai. Okay? Let me know what you decide and we’ll find a compromise that’ll work. I won’t be the guy waiting for you to come back on shore leave every few months. We can find something better than that.”

  “I still think you deserve something easier.”

  Henri laughed. “Stop that. Call your boss and have a great time in New Zealand. I’ll see you when I do.” He grabbed Nikolai’s neck and kissed him soundly, and before Nikolai knew it, they were groping and clutching and damn, he should just keep Henri locked in this room until that damn plane was gone. Trouble was, there would be a plane after that, and after that one, too.

  Henri stepped back. “Ignore what I just said. The sooner you can make it, the better.”

  “Okay. I’ll . . . see what I can do.”

  “Great. See you, Nikolai!” He grabbed his bag and was out the door, a rushed departure that might have been caused by the very early flight or maybe because he didn’t want to linger over the good-bye. Nikolai missed him the moment the door closed behind him.

  Vadim appeared in the hotel restaurant, and immediately that pretty-boy waiter showed up and all but fell over his feet to take Vadim’s order. Nikolai grinned into his coffee.

  “What?”

  Nikolai waited until Vadim had ordered coffee. “That waiter can’t wait to serve you.”

  Vadim shook his head, but seemed a touch amused. “I once had a short thing with a hairdresser. No more random adventures.”

  “Says the guy who all but pushed me into bed with my random adventure.”

  “You looked like you needed it,” Vadim responded deadpan while browsing the menu.

  Nikolai laughed. “Touché. I looked underfucked, then?”

  Vadim shrugged his wide shoulders and glanced at him over the menu. “Your age, there’s no such thing as overfucked.”

  Nikolai laughed louder. “Well, you were right. I think it was worth it.”

  “Is he still an enemy?”

  “I’m not sure. I think he’s genuine, but I’ve said that before and gotten stabbed in the back.”

  “Well, that’s the turning point in any good relationship with an enemy. When you’re not so sure anymore.” Vadim rubbed his wrists, as if remembering something.

  “The thing is, he doesn’t really fit into my life, and I don’t fit into his.”

  Vadim paused to order himself breakfast—scrambled eggs with bacon—and seemed to ponder the quandary for a while. “It’s that serious?”

  “Maybe.” Nikolai took another sip of coffee. “It could be.”

  “The strange thing about life is, you never know how it’s going to turn out. Usually, once you know what you want, you can make the rest happen. I went from Cold War–era Moscow to here.” He glanced around. “With all the changes in the last thirty years, who would have thought that even remotely possible?”

  “You have a lot of courage to just leave your old life behind—several times. It’s an inspiration. But I do like my life.”

  “Living out of two suitcases with no fixed address?”

  “Yes, that’s me.”

  Vadim nodded. “You can always move on when things are getting too difficult.”

  “You say it’s escape and evasion?”

  “If I say that, how does that make you feel?”

  Damn. Seemed like more than ten years’ worth of therapy taught some tricks. “Defensive.”

  “Then look at what you’re defending. No, you don’t have to tell me, Nikolai. I have my own defense mechanisms and soft flanks I’m guarding.” He lifted his eyebrows. “But my guess is, staying on the move is your way not to get hurt.”

  “Fencing, hmm?”

  “Katya mentioned you’re defensive on the piste.”

  “I was. I dropped out when I was a teenager. Anya beat me soundly every time I’d even think of taking up a sword.”

  “And if Anya is anything like Katya, she’s murderous.”

  “Yeah.” Nikolai chuckled. “I was always the weakest of the lot. I don’t have any killer instinct at all. Which probably should have told me everything I needed to know about my parentage.”

  Vadim measured him. “You are Katya’s son. But yeah, there’s a fair amount of Sasha in you, in terms of personality. He saved many people, flying out the wounded. Steady under pressure, and he laughed easily. He wasn’t a brooder at all. He did his job, but war wasn’t what he was about.”

  “I’d like that, flying.”

  “In a way, you are. Bird’s-eye view, constantly on the move.” Vadim smiled. “Saved you from a great deal of nonsense.”

  “You’ll have to give me the phone number of your shrink; he’s really good.”

  Vadim shook his head. “Doesn’t take a therapist.” He finished up his breakfast. “Well. I believe we have a museum to conquer.”

  No emails from Henri (poor guy was probably suffering horrendously on another twenty-hour flight), but his mother had sent one. Bird’s-eye view. However far and high he went, she always had a way to catch him. But this email was short and polite, and it contained contact information for Lizabeta. The implication was clear. Why else would she do that if she didn’t expect him to intervene on Anya’s behalf? He’d never volunteered to get involved, and relationship troubles between women could get j
ust as messy as between a heterosexual couple. Especially if a child was involved.

  But his father had asked him to make sure she’d be all right. Whichever way he turned it, he should get in touch. Now, email her or phone her? He had no clue where she was, only that she’d left, but in what direction he had no idea. In her stead, he’d likely run back home, so that would be Poland. He left the email for the moment, then typed up the information Henri had given him and sent that to Ruslan.

  Fifteen minutes later, his phone rang.

  “Ruslan, hi, how are you?”

  “Just got out of a meeting with two analysts,” Ruslan grouched, as if one was already too much.

  Those meetings tended to put him in a bad mood, but as a small cap, Cybele had to be grateful for every piece of coverage they could get. Analysts might write up a buy recommendation and increase their target prices, so they really ruled supreme. And even though Cybele received some really good coverage in various mining magazines and on investment websites, nobody was beating down their door to sink a few more million into it. Since there were only four banks and brokers covering Cybele at all (rather than a dozen or two dozen), their analysts could literally demand face time with Ruslan on a whim, much as he hated it. He really might not be the best CEO once they’d grown much further. Nikolai rather hoped that Ruslan would change with the company rather than get booted out.

  “Was it very bad?”

  “Ah, well, you know. Emerging markets are out of favor. And Eastern Europe and CIS . . . forget it.”

  Nikolai huffed. “They keep trying to write off the East.”

  “China telcos are the big thing at the moment.”

  “Well, then buy some.”

  Ruslan growled. “I’ve looked at the list you’ve sent me. I have a phone conference with the Aureus people on Friday.”

  “I’ll likely be somewhere between time zones.”

  “It would be good to have you, but I can manage.”