Tenderly Wicked

by Katerina Ross

  “Do you still think that you’re perverted?” Max asked.

  “I don’t know. And honestly, I don’t care. Not now. Not with you.”

  It was unexpectedly touching.

  Max wanted to reassure Vadim, but words escaped him and seemed inadequate. What he could offer, though, was tactile tenderness, small soothing kisses along Vadim’s neck. Maybe that would tell Vadim how much Max treasured what they had, no matter what others might think of their relationship.

  Vadim made him feel alive, finally at ease with his inner self, more or less, and Max wanted to reciprocate, to make his sub feel vibrantly alive too, excitement pumping through his veins, echoing in every welt or hickey Max would leave on Vadim’s body and in the pleasant soreness between his legs.

  What was equally important, Max wanted Vadim to feel safe in his arms. But was Vadim really safe? Could Max ensure no more accidents would happen?

  And if not, how much better was he than Vadim’s first lover if he failed to limit the danger when they got into risky play?

  Considering what Max had already suspected and what Vadim had told him now, Vadim’s love life—or sex life, depending on how you preferred to look at the matter—had been a series of betrayals and disappointments. Max didn’t want to contribute to this list.

  Vadim interrupted his rather unpleasant line of thought. “Do you mind if I add some hot water? Or is it time to get out?”

  Max let him wallow in the warmth some more, topping off the bath water a few times almost to the point of overflowing. They slowly relaxed back into silence, watching the candles flicker hypnotically on the sink. Vadim’s head rested on Max’s shoulder, and they were pressed snuggly together while Max explored the familiar territory of Vadim’s body, plying him with gentle touches.

  Vadim’s confession should have brought them closer together. Max had been waiting for Vadim to open up to him, and here they were, finally talking of what was important. Great progress, eh? An unsettling thought kept chafing against his mind, though—now it was only him keeping secrets and lying by evasion. It was his turn to talk of what troubled him, and the right time to do so. He almost said, “Listen—” But swallowed, suddenly dry-mouthed, and stayed silent.

  He’d already compared himself to Vadim’s careless lover. What if Vadim would do that, too?

  Sooner or later they had to get out, unless they wanted their skin to become terribly pruned. Too soon for Max to gather his courage and make a confession of his own.

  “I’m totally melted,” Vadim declared somewhat sleepily as Max dried him off with a large fluffy towel, vigorously rubbing him everywhere. Some places were more interesting to rub than others.

  Vadim held the towel-warming rack for leverage and seemed to enjoy himself a lot, his body broiled to a glowing pink. “You could do anything you wanted to me right now,” he said with a blissful sigh.

  Max let out a laugh. “Don’t I always? You never say no.”

  The words sprang from his lips, and then quickly came an afterthought that it might sound rude, in a way. Like calling Vadim an easy lay. Max hadn’t meant that. Fortunately, Vadim didn’t seem to mind.

  “True,” he admitted. “You seem to have a peculiar effect on me. Ah,” he gasped as Max brought the towel between his thighs to wipe the last damp streaks.

  “Anyway,” Max said, still feeling awkward, “now I know what to do to make you even more compliant. I’m to get you hot all over. Maybe we should go to a banya together.”

  Banya, the Russian version of a bathhouse, was very much like what they’d had today, only without taking a bath. It provided warming up in a room filled with damp heat, the so-called soft steam that emerged when water was thrown over heated rocks on a stove. Also, the major fun consisted of lashing each other with veniks, special besoms made of fragrant bundles of leafy twigs, as a sort of massage to improve circulation.

  Max thought of visiting Sanduny, a historical banya, the oldest one in Moscow, with richly carved wooden dressing stalls and a column-lined swimming pool. Quite a luxurious place for a few rounds of steam torture.

  “Have you ever been to one?” Vadim asked.

  “No. You?”

  “Funnily enough, no. It’s considered to be a traditional Russian experience, isn’t it? Maybe not for the Russians themselves though.”

  “Well, it’ll be a first time for us both then. I’ve heard someone saying that banya was a sauna with a masochistic twist. All this beating each other with burning hot veniks … I think it’s very promising. A nice pretext to indulge in SM games without being indiscreet, huh?”

  Max tucked Vadim into his bathrobe and took a dry towel for himself from the heating rail to wrap the hot fluffy cloth around his hips. He’d never bothered to buy a bathrobe, but now he’d certainly appreciate it. The communal heating was frustrating as always, scarce when the temperature dropped far below zero and sizzling hot when days became warmer. At the moment, it was the first option, so coming out of the steamy bathroom felt like a dip into an ice-cold pool. Some crazy banya enthusiasts were said to do that after a session of warming up in a heat room—to cool off, they plunged into frozen lakes where holes had been cut into the ice or rolled in snow naked. But it was clearly not the entertainment Max would choose for himself. He was a sadist, not a masochist after all. Therefore, the faster they got into bed, the better.

  Max blew the candles out and nudged Vadim in the direction of the bedroom, his skin immediately prickling into goose flesh after he’d opened the door. “Quick or we’ll freeze. Move, move!”

  After a short run from the bathroom, they romped about under the thick duvet, both still flushed, laughing like silly teenagers. Kisses followed, hot and wet.

  “Maybe we should buy an electric heater. Or warm pajamas at least, if it’s going to be that cold for a long time,” Max suggested, taking a breather.

  “Not a bad idea. Though shared heat works well too, in my opinion.”

  Max took it as an invitation to continue, and Vadim moaned into his mouth as Max groped his ass proprietarily. Nothing too kinky tonight, but a little bit of pinching and kneading would never go amiss.

  As they finally settled to sleep, warm and sated, Max tucked the duvet around them both like a shelter. Behind the tall window, snow kept falling as if in slow motion, but the temperature in the room seemed to have gone up considerably, or maybe it was just the effect of Vadim pressing against him from head to toe. Shared body heat really seemed to work. A perfect way to fight hypothermia.

  Max pushed the ever-present anxiety deeper into the back of his mind, but time was running out. He’d have to make his own confession to Vadim. And soon.

  Chapter Seven

  Friends and Exes

  During the next weeks, Vadim’s apartment underwent a few more changes. For instance, it was enough for Max to mention the bedroom looked incomplete without a TV—and there it was the next day, a huge black plasma screen on the wall.

  “You shouldn’t have bothered,” Max chided Vadim every time he bought something, from kitchenware to much more costly things, but what was he supposed to do other than mutter reproaches instead of saying thank you? Ideally, he should have shared the expenses, but Vadim insisted he wouldn’t take money from him, absolutely not, because it was he who had invited Max to an apartment that wasn’t suited for normal life and it was he who’d decided to improve it. At least Max persuaded Vadim they should share utility payments, but it wasn’t much compared to his previous expenses. Now that he paid no rent, he had enough spare money to afford some eccentricities, just as well as Vadim, but he didn’t want to make it into an issue.

  Now that he could keep a closer eye on his sub, he focused on making their live-in relationship fun, but also something beneficial for Vadim. Max made him do exercises every morning. Giving up smoking had been just the first step. Vadim’s body was lithe enough without any sports, but why not make it more toned, especially as Max took pleasure in watching him strain and sweat while doing cr
unches, push-ups, and other torturous workout moves—stark naked of course. Max savored the sight of his buttocks clenching and unclenching, and the dangle of his genitals, and relished the groans Vadim made. Sometimes Max insisted Vadim would count the sit-ups and squats. The way his breathing hitched and his voice faltered was delicious.

  Max already dreamed of summertime when they could both go for a run along the embankment, now and then, best in the direction of the Moscow City business center. The quay seemed to be quiet there and lined with trees. Even the mess of skyscrapers on the other side of the river didn’t spoil the surroundings too much. But for now, the weather made him rather prefer indoor activities. While November had been mild, December came in with freezing temperatures and dark, heavy snow clouds. Max was glad of having bought a hard-shell, knee-length parka last winter, a woolen hat and gloves, and also of having stocked up on Vitamin D supplements, which he was now feeding to Vadim, too, as the responsible Dom he aspired to be.

  Fully equipped for winter, Max would have enjoyed it if not for something he had to discuss with Vadim, and the sooner the better. December meant Christmas. And Christmas meant a trip home, to the U.S. As a man who liked to plan everything in advance, Max had bought airplane tickets long ago, in summer, before he’d met Vadim, because Christmas was a family holiday, right? He usually spent it back home, staying through the New Year, and felt bound to do so this time too, because his mom and dad were expecting him, though he didn’t really want to leave now that his relationship with Vadim had grown into something more than occasional shags. While the Catholic and Protestant Christmas Day wasn’t widely celebrated in Russia, the New Year certainly was, and spending it away from Vadim felt unfair. But family was family. Max decided he wouldn’t change his plans. He’d only have to break it delicately to Vadim. Would he be offended? Max thought he might be, and it frightened him because he didn’t want to ruin what they had.

  In the end, Max invited Vadim to go with him. It would certainly be a fuss, getting a U.S. visa and planning a trip on such short notice, but it was not impossible.

  Of course Max was apprehensive about what his parents might say. They were still not over the fact he was gay, and they complained about him wasting his life. “Are you going to be a teacher till you’re old?” his dad wondered. “No perspective, son. No future there. If you became a college professor, that I could get, but that’s just a temporary job, god knows where. Nothing permanent.”

  Still, whatever his parents said, they couldn’t change the way he preferred to live, and his choice of a partner was also his own business. So why not introduce Vadim to them after all?

  Vadim declined. He said he was sorry. Said it many times as if he felt he’d completely ruined the holidays for Max by refusing to go, but he said he couldn’t.

  “Oh. Are you planning a New Year with your parents, too?” Max suddenly realized. Maybe they wanted to reconcile with their son after all.

  But Vadim shook his head, and Max felt awkward.

  “So why not come with me?” he asked again. “If you think that getting a visa might be an issue—”

  Vadim cut him short. “I’ll have some extra work by the end of December. I can’t leave, really. I’m so sorry,” he added again, looking genuinely upset and subdued.

  “It’s okay.” Max pecked him on the lips, a chaste kiss of consolation. To be honest, he was inappropriately glad the situation had suddenly turned out the way it had and that it was Vadim who felt guilty, not him. Now he could plan his trip openly.

  He had a few Skype talks with his parents and his sister. Sue promised to pick him up from the airport, which was a great relief. A two-hour bus ride after almost twenty hours of fidgeting and dozing off in two planes would have been an unwelcome challenge.

  Besides his family, Max also hoped to see some of his college friends. Vadim caught him talking to one of them, again via Skype. He hadn’t intervened of course, but inquired afterwards. “And who was that?”

  “A friend. Andie. We … studied together.”

  Vadim cocked a brow at him. “Only studied?”

  It was probably just a naughty remark that didn’t require an answer, more of an equally playful reprimand, but Max didn’t feel like he could shake the matter off. Vadim deserved a serious reply. “No, not only. We’d been together for quite a while, but things didn’t work out.”

  It was almost envy in Vadim’s voice, not jealously when he asked, “How do you manage to be friends with your ex?”

  “And you don’t?”

  Vadim choked on a mirthless laugh. “Not really. I have a history of bad break-ups. Maybe I should have warned you.”

  Max shrugged. “Then I’d rather make sure that we don’t break up.”

  He suddenly remembered Vadim’s back all covered with abrasions. A bad break-up indeed.

  “Was it like what we have, between you and him?” Vadim asked cautiously. “I mean whips, paddles, and all that stuff?”

  Max laughed quietly. “Nah, he’s not into it. It was a purely vanilla relationship. We tried to experiment a few times, but it didn’t work for him.” To be honest, it had been anything but hot for both of them, the way they had fumbled first with a rope and then with handcuffs. “Partly, that was why we finally decided we’d rather be friends than lovers.” Then he processed Vadim’s words more thoroughly. “Wait a sec. Is that how you describe what we have? Whips, paddles, and all that stuff? Sounds a bit technical.”

  Vadim blinked. “I didn’t mean … of course it’s not just that…”

  Max frowned at him in an exaggerated manner, more playful than cross. “I probably ought to demonstrate that the gear I can use on you is more varied than whips and paddles.”

  He thought of this conversation later and of the way it had ended to their mutual satisfaction. Maybe he should have turned the joke into a more serious confession and said he had come to care for more than just an opportunity to spank a pretty ass with whatever implement was at hand, though this activity was certainly of great appeal to him.

  But the moment was gone, and the right words were left unsaid.

  ****

  Max wanted to make up for not spending the New Year eve with Vadim, so he decided—why not begin partying beforehand? They’d never attended any clubs like the one Max had been about to visit when they’d met, but Max suspected Vadim must have been a frequent guest there before. Would he like to start clubbing again?

  He found the long forgotten phone number and called the owner of said establishment to notify him they’d show up on Friday night. Bespredel, or Without Limits, was more of a private club than a big commercial enterprise and also of a dubious nature, hence the security matters. You couldn’t just turn up at the door and be let in. That cell phone number was one Max had since summer. The owner didn’t remember him of course, but fortunately, he seemed to know Vadim, so Max had no problem with making a booking.

  When Max informed Vadim of their upcoming adventure, he suddenly felt unsure if it was a good idea. Vadim’s first reaction was wary surprise. He said okay just a second later, and when asked, told Max he’d be glad to go out, but Max couldn’t shake off an impression that Vadim was hesitant about it for some reason. Maybe he’d gotten used to them spending their free time at home on their own. During the last month, they hadn’t been socializing much. Max had gone for a drink with his colleagues a couple of times, but that was it. As for Vadim, he didn’t seem to feel the need to mingle with someone else at all. Perhaps his work gave him enough interaction with people.

  In the end, Max decided they should still try it. They could leave at any time if Vadim showed no interest in staying. To be honest, Max was curious about the club he’d only seen from the outside. What would the local leather scene be like, he wondered.

  He felt apprehensive about etiquette and codes a Dom was supposed to conform to in a place like that. What if he did something inappropriate? The thought of it was vaguely amusing, given a visit to such an establishment could b
e called anything but appropriate. Okay, put another way: would he blend in?

  Well, there was only one way to find out. Maybe he needed this clubbing night not only for Vadim’s entertainment, but because he wanted to know if he would pass for an equal among other Doms. Experienced Doms.

  They arrived early, barely past seven o’clock. Vadim parked his car in the next street, right behind the corner. The cream-colored building with a den of depravity in its basement was picturesquely adorned with icicles hanging from the eaves—a typical sight for the old center of Moscow when below zero. The black door was in its place, and all Max had to do was press the doorbell and push past a security guy down the narrow stairs.

  The club turned out to be smaller than Max had imagined in his dreams about audaciously entering the Moscow leather scene. Just a few rooms in the basement, one of them with a bar, tables, and a small stage, and others with lounge areas and several items of dungeon furniture, including a traditional St. Andrew’s Cross and stocks. It was heaving with people, though Max was afraid they would be the first through the door. While on-site facilities looked less than impressive, the atmosphere positively vibrated with excitement. Shadowy walls were flanked by red and yellow-bulbed lamps, and the dim lighting certainly added to the feeling of secrecy and lust, anticipation of something prohibited and perverted, attracting and arousing.

  There were all kinds of men here, some dressed casually, some heavily equipped with SM gear—collars, leashes, floggers. The videos running on a big screen in the bar area were naughty, put mildly, but only a few guests seemed to be watching them. Mostly, guys were chatting and courting and occasionally engaging in heavy petting. As far as Max could tell, there must have been a dark room where the willing couples could flee for a quick exchange of pleasantries but not everyone felt the need for privacy.