his balls. Nikita gave a groan and fell on his hands, hips low to give
him access. That, of course, put Nikita's ass into very easy reach indeed,
and Chris lubed his fingers before he pushed one inside the Russian's
tight heat. He could feel the shudder race through the powerful body
when he located the prostate, teasing it by flicking across it.
So far, so good. Nikita didn't cringe, didn't pull back, and his
erection didn't falter, either. Chris did the same with two fingers. There
were guys that were difficult first time, tense and too tight, and they
didn't get into it, but Nikita wasn't one of those. He seemed pretty
ready for that challenge, mentally ready to do it. He pulled free and
pushed against Nikita's belly to get him to sit up again.
“Take it slow, no false bravado on this, okay? There are other
positions if this doesn't work out.”
Nikita nodded. “Understood.” He positioned himself, and Chris
helped, holding his cock and guiding Nikita, helping him to line up. It
might be a bad idea, but it gave Nikita control. Which might be exactly
the way to fuck that man.
Nikita winced when the head of Chris's cock pushed past his
virgin opening. He held still a moment and then eased back, taking him
in an inch at a time. It was all Chris could do not to push up to get in
deep, but he held back, letting Nikita set the pace.
“You okay?”
Nikita nodded, a sly smile curving his lips. He bent forward,
kissed Chris slowly, letting Chris's cock slide out a bit. He broke the
kiss, pushing back, engulfing Chris's cock once again, pausing, taking
it in, driving Chris crazy at the same time.
Chris grabbed Nikita's strong hands, entwined their fingers.
“You're so tight. I could damn near come from that alone.”
“Where would the fun in that be, eh?”
Apparently comfortable with this new experience, it didn't take
the big guy long to get the hang of it, and Chris moved with him,
arching his hips up, meeting Nikita's downward slide. And the sight
was tantalizing, Nikita, all defined muscle, colorless eyes gleaming
with lust like those of a wolf, breath coming ragged, small sounds of
pleasure, somewhere between moans and groans. This was completely
deliberate, and they found a rhythm that felt natural, in sync. Chris took
Nikita's cock and began to jerk him off, which made Nikita move faster.
He was wrestling control from the big guy, but he wanted to come with
him, and he for one wouldn't last very long. “Damn, you're hot,” Chris
muttered.
Nikita grinned and tightened against him, fucking him faster and
harder, sweat beading between his pecs. “Come for me, Chris,” he said,
clenching his ass. As if he could refuse. Chris thrust up and grabbed
Nikita's hips, almost more to steady himself than Nikita. So much for
taking control. Orgasm was fierce, maybe because he hadn't fucked
bareback for quite a while, or maybe because everything about Nikita
made him desperate.
His cock stayed semi-hard after the last spasm, and Nikita settled
back, jerked himself like a man who couldn't wait another minute.
Chris stared at the precome beading. He licked his lips.
“In my mouth. Please.”
Nikita shifted, moved to straddle his chest, his own climax hitting
just before he pushed himself fully into Chris's mouth. Chris lapped up
the hot fluid, loved the feel of it dribbling down his chin like another
mark of ownership.
Ownership shit.
Still, the thought of that felt good.
Nikita caught his breath, stretched out atop Chris and kissed him
slowly, hungrily, as if eager to taste himself in the mix. Chris hated
having the kiss end, but it was worth it to see the look Nikita gave him.
Ownership, definitely.
Nikita stretched out next to him, sweat cooling on his skin, and
before Chris could wonder if cuddling was allowed or welcome, Nikita
simply pulled him closer, their sweat mingling, heated skin against
heated skin, the smell of sex around them. Chris kissed Nikita's throat.
“You liked that.”
Nikita huffed. “You didn't promise too much.”
“Say it, you liked it.”
Nikita ran his strong fingers through Chris's hair. “I like you,
Chris.”
“I'm glad.” Chris reached for Nikita's hand, clasped it, lifted it to
his lips to kiss the knuckles that held the potential to cause so much
damage but now were just an extension of the man they belonged to.
Though he gave Chris's hand a quick squeeze, Nikita pulled away
and moved off Chris. He reached for the box of muffins and pulled out
two blueberry, finishing the first in two bites before starting on the
second.
Chris sat up. “Yo, no sharing?”
Nikita gestured with this half-bitten second muffin. “Help
yourself.”
Chris laughed. “Should have claimed those for myself. Not a fan
of cranberry, and banana nut is just plain nasty.”
They took turns showering, Nikita going first, and when Chris
emerged from the bathroom, Nikita was looking at something on his
netbook. His expression was full-on business mode, and Chris was
tempted to look over his shoulder but thought better of it, instead
turning his attention to getting dressed and toweling and combing his
hair.
He studied the Russian for a while and then tore his attention
away. They still had work to do, and Nikita had already started.
“What's going on?”
“Just checking work e-mails.” Nikita tapped a quick response.
“You know about me. Time to tell me about your job?”
“I fight organized crime,” Nikita said. “That's it.”
“You're a cop.” Chris wracked his brain, but he knew next to
nothing about Russian law enforcement. “Secret service? What's it
called these days, FSB?”
“It doesn't matter for our purposes here.”
Chris smirked. Probably still secret evil KGB-type shit, no matter
what they called it in public. “GORGON has its tentacles in all sorts of
criminal pies,” he mused. “Any of your most wanted have ties to
China?”
Gibson shoots and scores, judging from the way Nikita's head
shot up. Chris held his hands up. “Just asking, dude. I'm not the prying
type.”
Nikita eyed him warily, and Chris wished he'd kept his big mouth
shut, especially since he really didn't know anything.
“There are certain people on the radar some might find surprising.”
“I've run up against a few of those in my day.” Chris took a seat
in the larger of the two upholstered chairs, draping one leg across the
chair arm. “Any more thoughts on that airport thing?”
“Germany isn't my jurisdiction… that thing is too big.”
“Means you have the rights to kill one guy—like Zaitsev—but
can't do much more?”
“That about sums it up.” Nikita closed the netbook and turned to
face him. “I was going to tip off the German police
and pick off
Shkadov while I'm at it.”
“Like you promised Zaitsev's goons.”
“The original plan was that Zaitsev's men blame Shkadov, but
they don't have any effective leadership. A while ago, Zaitsev purged
the officers in his organization. Like Stalin, he ended up with only
sycophants and imbeciles after the purge, none of which have enough
balls to take the fight to the enemy. I should have factored that in.”
Nikita shook his head. “I was going to leave the women to be rescued
by the Germans.”
“And then what? Go home and back to busting old ladies and
their illegal bingo games?” The words came out fast and angry, and
Chris didn't realize what a total ass he was being until he noticed the
confused look Nikita gave him. “Never mind.”
He dismissed his outburst with a wave of his hand and grabbed
his boots and socks. He needed to get out and think. Maybe give John a
ring and… something. He wasn't sure what yet. Only that fucking was
out of the question.
Chapter 11
CHRIS met Andrei in the Berlin Zoo, outside the tiger enclosure. John
was nowhere to be seen, which only meant that Andrei hadn't really
learned double-dealing yet or John was being good at the cloak-and-
dagger stuff.
“Hey, how are you doing?”
“Good. Worried,” Andrei admitted.
“Why's that?”
“Worried about you. I'm sorry… I saw you with him.”
“Kazakov.”
“Yes.”
Chris studied Andrei's eyes, trying to see anything in there,
memory or recollection, but while the wound at Andrei's temple had
turned into an impressive scar, the lacerations on his brain hadn't fully
knitted back together. Andrei bore it incredibly well; he kept his shit
together most days, and sometimes Chris actually believed that Andrei
had simply moved on, left his former life as the lawyer of Russian
crime lords and economic criminals behind. Just like his career as a
corporate lawyer in the magic circle of London law firms—nice, shiny
offices and large houses in Sevenoaks with customized Jags, Bentleys,
and Maserati Grand Turismos included.
“What do you remember?”
“You know I fucking hate that question.”
“Yes. Try.”
“I know he scares me.” Andrei's lips tightened. He didn't like
being scared or admitting to it. “Dangerous. I look at him and I'm
scared.”
Which was as much as John had told him. “Anything else?”
“No details. It's all gone.”
“Okay. Sorry for that.” Chris shrugged like it didn't mean
anything. “You know your way around Russian law enforcement…
what agency deals with organized crime?”
“The structure is complex, but corruption is everywhere. In
Russia, there are no lines between mafiya and law enforcement... or
politicians. There's convincing evidence that the Party was the largest
mafiya of them all, and many of the old structures are still intact.”
Andrei shook his head and gave a deep sigh. “He might be criminal
police, might be SOBR. It was… changed into OMSN.”
“Which means?”
“Otryad Militsii Spetsialnogo Naznacheniya. Translates as
„special police unit'. It's one of the troops of the Internal Ministry. Like
OMON, but OMON are just thugs. They messed up in Beslan and beat
up gays in Pride marches.” Andrei shook his head.
“What about OMSN?”
“I'm not an insider, Chris. I refreshed myself enough to know
they fight terrorism these days. Possibly kill a journalist or two. You
know how these things go.”
Chris nodded. He knew exactly. While he certainly could see
Nikita being part of the thug police, he imagined the big guy had a
loftier impression of himself. He'd be a do-gooder. Most of the time,
anyway. Still, he had as many questions now as he'd ever had. He
clapped Andrei on the shoulder. “Want to grab a hot dog?”
Andrei pulled back and gave him a long look. “Is this another one
of your amusing ways of asking for public sex?”
Chris laughed. Those early days as a trio had been fine, hadn't
they? He shook his head. “No, my man. I mean find something for
lunch. I'm starving.”
They found a cart that served hot dogs, and Chris paid for the
food for them both. “Hey, any chance you could keep me in the loop
regarding your mission?”
Andrei stared at him, and that stare was more than mock outrage.
“He asked me that. I'm sure of it.”
“Nikita?”
“Yes. He asked for information.”
“About Zaitsev.”
“I think.” Andrei shook his head. “ I can't tell you what happens
now. You're suspended.”
“I might stage a brilliant comeback.” Chris grinned. “And God
help Stefan when I do.”
Andrei smiled at him. “I can't. They'd find out, and I'm the
rookie without a track record. But I'll let you know when we leave the
city. Just stay close.”
“Yeah, you got my number.” He wasn't really getting anywhere
here, but it felt good spending time with the other Russian. What the
hell was it about Slavs that made them damn near irresistible? Half a
year ago, he'd thought he'd end up in a happy fuck buddy/teammates
with benefits relationship with John, and then in had come Andrei and
John had been all over that guy (and Chris had been too; at least it had
felt like that for a while until he'd realized he was a bit of a third wheel
there), and then he got a Russian all to himself.
Granted, Nikita was an evil motherfucker when he set his mind to
it and seriously into that S/M shit, but ironically, that fit Chris to a T.
“Good to see you guys are happy. You'll be a great team together.”
Andrei smiled. “You're still invited.”
Chris nodded. “No matter what, you guys know I'll always have
your back.”
“I know, and John does too.”
CHRIS watched him go and then slid his hands into the pockets of his
jeans. Shit. What was he going to do now? He had enough credit and
cash reserves to check into a decent hotel or even rent a little place—
with a real bed and furniture, thank you—but what would he do?
He hadn't been without a job of some kind since his balls had
started growing hair. The military, then GORGON. Being a paid killer
was pretty much all he knew, and doing it freelance was a definite
possibility, but most of those jobs were on the wrong side or in crappy
places he never wanted to visit again. Shit.
He needed to have a backup plan, because when the day came—
and he had a gut feeling it would be too soon—Nikita was going to
blow away in the wind, and Chris would be totally fucked, and not in
the ways he enjoyed the most.
With a muttered “Ah, shit,” he walked along the Budapester
Strasse until a car slammed on its brakes, nearly hitting him when he
approached a corner. The passenger door open
ed.
“Get in.”
“Jesus, Nicky, you could have killed me.” He pulled out his cell.
“You could have called me to meet you.”
“Well, I didn't. Get in.”
Chris plunked down and pulled the door shut. There was tension
around Nikita's jaw, even more than normal. Note to self—sex only
relaxed this Russian for about three hours. “You tracked me? Aww,
that's sweet of you.”
“The Tempelhof job is cancelled.”
“Why's that?”
“I talked to the German police. They have a mole or some kind of
informer. My contacts at Zaitsev's were in touch and said the auction's
been moved. They don't know where yet.”
“That's shit.”
“Also means I can't get the Germans involved at all until they've
found the hole. Shit. That would have been too fucking easy.”
“There's still GORGON.”
Nikita glanced at him at the red light. “You didn't seem
convinced they'll let me in on this. Besides, what's your people's stake
in this?”
“Hey, we fight international crime too.”
“And hire criminals.”
“Normally we don't. I mean, they don't, but they made an
exception with Andrei. And if you aren't playing completely ignorant
when they do say yes, I'm in serious shit.”
“Don't worry about that.”
“Yeah, well, it's my ass.” Chris glanced out the window. “You'll
see, they'll fix everything in the background. John's good at playing the
upper levels. He'll get us the mission, the expense account, and a
general pardon for whatever boo-boo they think I committed. Let's
hope he'll get you in on this too.”
“And I'll worry later about how to explain that to my side.”
Nikita pulled into a parking place. “I brought your gym kit. Let's have
a workout, then lunch, then wait for your friends to get in touch.”
CHRIS took the spotter position, content to put off his own workout in
order to watch Nikita bench press. Power and its effect on sex was
evident in each ripple of muscle, each drop of pheromone-laden sweat
that beaded on the Russian's skin.
More than once, Chris had to adjust his aching cock and dissuade
himself from dropping down to fuck Nikita then and there. It was so
fucking hot to watch him push that weight, his gaze fixed on some
imaginary point as he strived to make the 220-plus pounds his bitch.
First Blood Page 17
