First Blood

by Aleksandr Voinov

  tension. The fingers returned to his ass and then slipped out to touch his

  cock and squeeze his balls as if to reward him.

  And what a reward it was. Slow and precise, with just the right

  amount of pressure. Each stroke and squeeze meant to ramp up the

  thrill one agonizingly hot inch at a time.

  “Fuck!”

  The dildo breached his hole hard and fast, was withdrawn just as

  quickly.

  “Relax. I won't hurt you.”

  “I hope to fuck you mean that.” The pain went as quickly as it had

  come.

  “Say the word and I'll stop.”

  Chris took a breath. “No. Go on. I'm okay.”

  Nikita kissed his back, slid his slick fingers underneath to caress

  the spot where he'd cut the characters.

  This is mine.

  This. All of it, all of him.

  “Please. Go on.”

  The big dildo head touched his hole again, slipped in no more

  than an inch and was withdrawn. Time dragged. Chris rocked back,

  wanting it, wanting more.

  “When I'm ready.”

  “I understand.”

  Chris measured his breathing, the need, the anticipation making

  him ready to jump out of his skin.

  The dildo pressed against him a third time, and Nikita held it still.

  It didn't hurt this time, the worst was over, his body knew what to

  expect.

  Again, Nikita moved with a slow hand, easing the toy in and out,

  going deeper each time.

  Chris groaned into the pillow, lost himself in the feel of the long,

  slow fuck. He tensed when the fucking stopped, the dildo still balls

  deep inside him. Something shifted between his legs, but nothing made

  sense until he felt Nikita's lips on his cock, his breath against his balls.

  One hand guided his cock between Nikita's lips, the other held the

  dildo in place. Chris gave a strangled sound when Nikita took him in

  two ways at the same time, sucking and licking him, fucking him too.

  Chris held still even if all he wanted was to plunge his aching

  cock deep into Nikita's throat, but he knew Nikita wasn't experienced

  with that and would definitely choke. And right now, he couldn't bring

  himself to do that. One hand stroked him firmly, but it didn't take much

  from there. He jerked forward in pure, uncontrollable reflex, just a little,

  and came into Nikita's mouth, orgasm more powerful than anything in

  ages, releasing a pressure he'd very nearly burst under in the last

  months. Nikita kept sucking him, which prolonged the agony, and even

  after he'd pulled back, he kept licking for a while longer, before he slid

  out from under Chris's legs.

  The dildo left, again, slowly, and Chris thought that might have

  been the only thing that had kept him upright. He wanted to collapse on

  the floor and not move for an hour. But he stayed right there, bracing

  himself to be fucked. Nikita hadn't come yet.

  But there was nothing save the sound of his own quick breathing,

  slowly, a little at a time. Shit. Maybe he wasn't supposed to come

  unless ordered? Wasn't that how it was in the porn flicks?

  Nikita's large rough palm stroking the length of his spine relaxed

  Chris.

  “I've never done that.”

  Chris clenched his jaw, afraid snark would come out even now.

  “Thank you… for having me be the first.”

  Chris thought he heard a whispered “the only” but decided it was

  his imagination.

  He knew it wasn't imagination when Nikita brushed against him

  in positioning himself.

  He wanted to scream, “Hurry! Fuck me now! Hard!” but managed

  to keep the pleas in.

  Like he had with the fake dick, Nikita set a maddening precise

  pace.

  Again Chris lost himself in the sensations, the feel of the hardness

  filling him, hitting his prostate with what had to be planned timing. He

  was hardly aware of his wrists being freed and then his ankles.

  Still Chris remained as he had been. This was Nikita's fantasy,

  and he was happy to tag along for the ride until Nikita pulled out and

  moved.

  “Stand up.”

  Chris did, hating that weird disorientation of the darkness and the

  unfamiliar setting. With a hand on his shoulder, Nikita told him to turn

  right and then take a few paces forward.

  “Turn, face me. A step back. Another.”

  He stopped when Chris bumped into the edge of what he figured

  was the long table opposite the bed.

  “Hop up, sit.”

  Chris did, his legs spread, clearly inviting anything. He was

  surprised when Nikita's lips slid over his cock again. The mouth play

  ended just as he was coming back to life, but the feel of Nikita's hot

  tongue softly stroking over the place he'd cut made up for it.

  Chris breathed a contented sigh when Nikita pulled away and

  stood between his legs.

  “Grab my shoulders.”

  He did as told. Nikita lifted him from the table, carried him,

  positioned his back against one of the walls. Chris kept his legs around

  Nikita's waist when he let go of Chris's thigh to lift his right arm from

  his shoulder. There was a bar to grip. Chris hadn't noticed that earlier

  but wasn't about to complain or comment. Nikita cuffed his wrist, then

  the other.

  Chris squinted against the light when Nikita pulled the blindfold

  free. Fuck but the big guy was gorgeous, more handsome than he'd

  ever noticed. His lips were wet, his skin flushed, gleaming with beads

  of sweat. His cock was hard, near ready to burst, still glistening with

  lube.

  He gripped Chris's legs, positioned himself and slid his cock back

  inside. “I want to see the look in your eyes when I come in you.”

  Chris tensed around him, offering more friction, holding him

  close with his thighs, chest to chest, and no doubt the slightly awkward

  position drew out the pleasure. Never in his life had Chris had a lover

  who was that controlled, that skilled at playing with his mind, and he'd

  had quite a few spectacular fucks. Nikita now moved harder and faster,

  his gaze intent on Chris's face, those cold eyes gleaming with intensity.

  Chris made a valiant attempt, but he couldn't come again, not

  quite so soon. Didn't matter, because when he could finally feel

  Nikita's release, he took it. No thought that they'd been barebacking,

  no worry or fear, just completion, peace, validation, another gift. He

  stared at Nikita, finally getting this whole fucked-up mess, but before

  he could say anything, Nikita kissed him, deep, hungry, with a

  lingering taste of his own orgasm.

  Nikita held him close with one hand, unsnapped the cuffs from

  the overhead bar with the other. He stole another, quicker kiss before

  setting Chris on his feet.

  Surprisingly Nikita kept a hold on him, a light one, hands on his

  hips, their cocks lightly touching. Chris rubbed his wrists, flexed his

  sore hands. He hadn't realized he'd been gripping the bar that tightly.

  “You're all right?”

  “Great. Thank you. It wasn
't anything like I expected.”

  “What did you expect?”

  Chris opened his mouth only to close it to keep his smart-ass side

  in check. He shrugged. “I don't know, but I don't think that was it.”

  Nikita smiled.

  Shit. It was the cutest smile he'd ever seen on any guy, and he

  wanted to go all limp wristy and throw himself at Nikita. Instead he

  caressed the side of Nikita's face with the back of his hand. “Katya was

  right. You are the best.”

  The smile evaporated. “Katya, yes.”

  “Did I say something wrong? Oh shit. Are you two married on

  the sly?”

  “No. Never.” Nikita left it at that and stepped back, letting his

  fingers trail down the length of Chris's arm, clasped his hand before

  breaking away. He collected the toys and placed them in a labeled

  plastic bag and left them by the door for the staff to sanitize. “Let's

  clean up.”

  Chris followed him into the attached bathroom. Yet again he was

  surprised by the turn of events. It was weird, but he wasn't about to

  protest when Nikita took the lead in soaping him down and washing his

  hair. It was weird to be “babied,” but damn it felt so good to have

  someone—a big scary fucker like Nikita no less—take care of him this

  way.

  He tried to reciprocate, but Nikita took the soap bar away and

  swabbed his own chest.

  Chris stepped back out of the hot water stream. “Okay, I promised

  not to mouth off, but I need to say this and I hope to God it doesn't

  come out all wrong—I'm not your pampered bitch. Please don't treat

  me like one.”

  He held his breath when Nikita hit him with that icy stare until

  the other man threw his head back, letting loose a hearty laugh that

  vibrated off the tiles. He slid his hand behind Chris's neck, pulled him

  in for a kiss.

  “What happens in private stays private, yes?”

  “I'm down with that.”

  What he wasn't down with was the sight that greeted them when

  they exited a short time later—two vaguely familiar goons waiting just

  beyond the monitored door to the play rooms.

  Chapter 10

  IT WASN'T easy to put his game face back on after the scene. Nikita

  rather felt like chilling with a drink and spending time with Chris in the

  afterglow of what had turned into the fulfillment of his fantasies: Chris

  submitting to him, threatening to break down his own control. Maybe

  because it was easier to be controlled when it didn't actually cut to the

  bone, he thought, and pushed that to the side to be dealt with later.

  “Gentlemen,” he said to the two gangsters. “We weren't supposed

  to meet until midnight.” He checked his watch. Quarter to. Too easy to

  lose track of time.

  “Who's he?” the faster of the two asked, nodding toward Chris.

  “Freelancer I hired for the job.” Nikita gave the man a stare.

  “Your man Zaitsev trusted him to take out Voronin, so he's good

  enough for me.” He dropped the name so Chris knew what they were

  talking about and what his creds were. “Switch to English so I don't

  have to explain everything twice.”

  He led the way to one of the alcoves and plucked up the food

  menu, flicked it open, made his decision, and handed the menu over to

  Chris. He was being too casual with the criminals, but leaning back,

  studying them, he noticed that set them on edge more than when he

  played hard-assed cop with them. Just as well.

  He doubted they'd try anything in here. Too many potential

  witnesses, and Chris was also carrying his weapon. Was he in the

  proper frame of mind to use it if need be? He'd have to put his own

  trust on the line there.

  Chris ordered himself a burger. It was so predictably American of

  him. If the gangsters weren't present, he'd have smiled about it. Those

  two ordered the large mezze plate, content to have the lighter fare of

  olives and crackers with dips. Almost like civilized people.

  “I hear it's been quiet. Too quiet since your employer's untimely

  demise.” Nikita sipped his water. “Are none of you thirsting for

  revenge?”

  “It's not as simple as that,” the quick one said. “This is not our

  home ground. Too many variables.”

  “In other words, none of you has big enough balls,” Chris

  muttered.

  The gangster glared, made a move for his jacket.

  “Not wise,” Nikita said. The gangster hesitated long enough that

  Nikita could pull the knife and place it against the man's femoral artery

  before the criminal managed to touch whatever he was packing. In the

  gloom of the club, the blackened double-edged blade didn't even catch

  a reflection. “No trouble. I like this place.”

  “Peace,” the man said in Russian, lifting his hands in a near-

  comical gesture.

  Nikita drew the knife back but held it in his hand just in case.

  “Why haven't you made a move against Shkadov? He had Zaitsev

  killed.”

  The gangster glanced around. “Nobody knows where he is right

  now, but we expect he'll oversee a large shipment next Saturday.”

  “How large is „large'?”

  “Fifty heads.”

  Nikita nodded. “Nice sum of money on the way there.” And

  they'd need a fair amount of armed goons to secure the shipment. “Are

  they going to get auctioned off?”

  “At least the best of them.”

  It was a sickening business, the trafficking in lives, most of them

  hardly more than girls, far too many abducted or sold off by drug-

  addicted or debt-ridden parents. Some went on their own volition, lured

  with the promise of jobs as au pairs or waitresses. It would probably be

  kinder to put a bullet in them than “save” them and send them home.

  Noting the approach of the waiter, Nikita covered his knife with

  the edge of his napkin. Chris dug into his meal as casually as any hired

  gun would in such a situation. The gangsters were more discreet, only

  ordering because it had been expected. Nikita cut into his steak, swirled

  the meat back in its own juice before placing it in his mouth.

  He spoke after swallowing. “The shipment arrives where?”

  “They're driving them into the old Tempelhof airport. I hear

  they're doing the auction there in one of the closed hangars.”

  Lots of open ground, little chance of last time repeating itself.

  “Can we appear as buyers?” Chris asked.

  “They've been vetted in advance,” one of the gangsters said.

  “Do you know who's invited?”

  “Some brothel owners, some rich guys….” The gangster

  shrugged, clearly not overly interested in the details. “But Shkadov will

  be there. You can take him out then, if you want him.”

  “I'll look into it.” Nikita nodded thoughtfully, amused that they

  thought they were hiring him as a torpedo, or contract killer. “What

  happens when Shkadov is done?”

  “We'll take out the rest of his guys here.”

  “And rebuild your own organizatsiya. Or do you have succe
ssion

  troubles?”

  The gangster opened his hands in a “maybe” gesture. “Much is

  still up in the air.”

  “That's what I'm hearing.” Nikita sipped more water. “What

  about the head of security, Rochev?”

  “He vanished.” The gangster frowned, not too happy about that.

  “Some say he was a traitor.”

  “Well, seems he had something to hide. I'll keep my eyes open

  for him too.” Of course, mentioning that had just signed Rochev's

  death warrant. Cockroaches like him didn't deserve any better.

  The gangster nodded and set his napkin on the table. “If we hear

  of any changes in the schedule, you'll be contacted.”

  “Fine.”

  The slow one took a last plump olive before leaving a few bills on

  the table.

  When they were gone, Chris looked over. “Did you mean it about

  me being part of the operation, or was it for their benefit?”

  “Mostly the latter.”

  Chris put down his burger. “I can do this, we both know it.”

  “It's not your fight, is it?”

  “How the fuck do you know it's not?”

  Nikita took the last piece of meat, pushed his plate away. “You

  were sent away from whatever brought you here. There's no need to

  risk yourself.”

  “Maybe I want to watch your back. If I hadn't last time, we

  wouldn't be having this little convo, would we?”

  Nikita sipped his water. He certainly could argue with that, but he

  didn't want to, not just now. He placed more cash on the table to cover

  the bill and gratuity. “If you've finished, let's go.”

  “Where to?”

  “Home. What's passing for it here at any rate.”

  IF THE situation had been any different, Chris would have pondered

  suggesting Nikita to the Dragon Lady as a prospective recruit for

  GORGON. Fuck, the man seemed to run his whole operation without

  backup, or very nearly solo, unless he'd count the contact at the

  Russian embassy. He was certainly well connected, as that little

  conversation had indicated.

  Only, of course, GORGON would certainly not listen to him

  anymore. He could just about imagine the poisonous report that Stefan

  had gleefully typed up and already presented in triplicate. But he'd be

  fucked if he cared about this. At all. Right now he only cared about

  Nikita. Okay, and John and Andrei. But those two could keep each