Varian Krylov

by Hurt

  “I'm sorry,” she said, “I shouldn't have.”

  He pulled her to him, his bare chest against hers.

  “Don't misunderstand me, Vanka,” he said, his voice soft and even. “It's only that you give too much.”

  “No, Khalid. That's not true.”

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  * * * *

  After that giving and taking over the dining room table, Khalid took her two, sometimes three times each day, just as her gesture had promised he could—with no prelude, no kiss or caress, at his whim, just as if her body were a part of him, his own, to be used, at will. Except, always, the gorgeous enormity of the gift was between them, wrapped around them.

  Vanka would be washing the dishes, and Khalid would step in close behind her and merely lay his hand on her shoulder. Setting the cup or knife in her hand down, she would sink silently to her hands and knees, and Khalid would sink down behind her, pull down her pants, if she was wearing any, or just her underwear. He'd lube her, open her, enter her. Fill her.

  She'd offered it out of pure, deep love, out of awed reverence. But each time he took her gift, feeling how she was nourishing this man who'd starved so stoically for so many years, she got back a little of her faith in her strength.

  * * * *

  A low, sanguine sun glowed on the sheen of Khalid's naked body. Maybe he was asleep. Or maybe he was allowing her to stand there, gazing down on him, eyes closed, lips slightly parted, his lightly muscled chest rising and falling in slow rhythm, his cock delicate looking, soft, nestled in its tuft of black hair.

  “Hello, Vanka,” he said without opening his eyes. Then he opened them, and gave her his gentle smile.

  “Hello, Khalid.”

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  As she reworded what she wanted to say for the third time since she'd been standing there, she caught herself nervously shifting her weight. And her face went hot as she felt the slick, swollen feeling of her sex. That never happened when Khalid took her. It hadn't happened since she'd started chemo.

  “Khalid.”

  “Mmmm?”

  She lost the words again, so she held up her hand, let the leather cuffs dangle.

  He grinned. Sat up. Took the cuffs from her.

  “You want me to tie you, Vanka?”

  “No,” she breathed.

  He handed the restraints back to her, and smiled.

  “Whatever you wish, Vanka.”

  Straddling Khalid's thighs, she knelt on the deck lounge and bound his wrists to the arm rests, down by his hips, noticing Khalid's cock already stirring from its slumber, the nervous grip on her gut softening.

  Khalid. Passive. Bound to receive.

  She slid forward, until the damp crotch of her boyshorts nestled against the underside of his swelling, half-hard cock, the tops of her pale thighs framing his dark, sleek torso. Leaning into him, the deep, sharp scent of his body stirred her, and she almost sighed. She hadn't come to him for herself, not like that, and she didn't know what to do with the warm, sweet want rising up in her for the first time in so long.

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  She kissed his soft, full lower lip. Sank into a slow, deep kiss, his scent, his taste, the soft sound of his breathing filling her up, the press of his hardening cock against her swollen cunt turning her want to a fretful ache.

  Rising up to gaze down on him, she laughed at how he was looking up at her with a mixture of arousal and amusement.

  “Am I so bad at this?” she teased.

  “On the contrary, it is I who is so bad at this. I do not know how to play the part you have given me. But I will learn.”

  His grin, his golden irises flickering; looking at him now, between their kiss and all she wanted to do, swelled her heart up in her chest.

  “God, you're beautiful, Khalid.”

  His grin altered. He was laughing at her.

  “You know, when I say that, I mean there's this quality about you. Like the sun.

  You radiate. Your gravity, you pull me to you.”

  Now, instead of laughing at her, he looked vulnerable. She kissed him again, seeking him at the depths of their kiss, offering herself.

  She took her time with him. For long minutes she kissed and caressed and nuzzled his face, combed her fingers into his hair, raking his scalp, then nipping an ear lobe, feeling how his body flexed and arched under her. Working to ignore the flood of pleasure provoked when his cock rubbed against her.

  His nipples. Dark as dates and eager to peak and harden under her tongue, his areolae swelling and crinkling, raising his nipples to her lips. His musk smell worked on her like a slow aphrodisiac, seeping little by little into her blood stream.

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  When she parted his legs to kneel between, she brushed her lips along the length of his hard cock, resisting her urge to lick and taste him. He was so warm, his silken length so delicate under her lips, the sight and feel and scent of him making the aching swell of her cunt unbearable. She loved it, how his cock twitched and lurched now and then as she teased him, leaving him untouched a few seconds, then sliding the head of his cock along her bottom lip.

  Finally she brushed her wet tongue over the dark, swollen head of his cock, tasting his sharp tang, watching how his flat belly flexed, then seeing the gleam of her spit where she'd licked. When she pulled him between her lips, into the wet heat of her mouth, he sighed and shuddered under her. Sliding her lips up and down his rigid, flexing length, she watched him watching her. Before, he would have seen her pale breasts with their light pink nipples framing his cock each time it emerged from her mouth. Now there was only the blank canvass of her black T-shirt.

  But he was panting, sighing, flexing his hips needfully. She drew her lips up, rubbing the underside of his cock with her tongue as she went. Then let him go. Went back to him. Took him in another deep kiss, caressing his taut balls as her tongue played over his, as she caught his bottom lip between her teeth. Grinning then, she slinked back down, teasing his nipples with her tongue along the way, and went back to work on his cock, licking, sucking, then taking his balls into her mouth, first one, then the other, sucking, prodding the firm roundness inside with her tongue, running her tongue between them, up the underside of his hard, swollen prick, taking him in again, watching him all along, loving every twitch of his eyebrows, every time he closed his eyes tight and then opened them again, fixing his gaze on her as he panted.

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  Now, she watched his face as she took her mouth from his cock long enough to wet her middle finger, then sink it up between his firm round cheeks. His lips parted further and a little furrow appeared between his eyebrows.

  “I've never . . .”

  “Just go slowly,” Khalid panted, his belly flexing in time with his rapid little breaths.

  Slowly, carefully, she pushed against the tight little opening, feeling the ring of muscle reluctantly yield to her finger, slowly dilating. Little by little her finger slid into the hot grip of Khalid's body. It felt almost as if a pair of strong lips were sucking at her finger. Then, god, past that tight little clench she felt the most delicate, silken, moist warmth.

  She sighed, startled, “So delicate. I'm not hurting you?”

  “No,” he laughed softly.

  Again she took him in her mouth, watching his face as she tentatively began to move her finger inside him, first trying just fucking him, slowly drawing her finger out, then pushing it up inside him again as she nursed at the head of his cock, then slid her lips down to the base, until his jet curls tickled her lips and the head of his cock prodded the back of her throat. Then she tried rotating her wrist, twisting her finger inside him as she pulsed it in and out. She pulled out completely, teasing his hole for a while, rubbing with the pad of her finger, nudging him with the firmer, broader bend if her knuckle, then sinking the length of her finger into him again.

  “Should I try two?” she asked.

  “Yes. Yes,” he sighed, all the mirth gone from his voice.

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  She spit onto
her index and middle fingers, and carefully worked them into him.

  “Soon, soon,” he panted as she lapped at the underside of his cock, rubbing at the joint behind the head with her tongue.

  Now she sucked him eagerly into her mouth, varying the speed and rhythm of her ass fucking, sliding her tongue over his hard length, and she slid her lips up and down. She brought her free hand between his thighs and caressed his balls, tight and high now. Then, pushing her fingers into him to the hilt, she felt for the round firmness she'd read about, stroked it with the pads of her two fingers when she found it, sucking eagerly at Khalid's rigid cock as she felt him so close, his thighs quivering against hers, his hips flexing, his belly fluttering with rapid little breaths.

  “Vanka!” Khalid whimpered. “Vanka!”

  A warm, thick tang spurted against her tongue and she sank down on his cock, taking him as far back into her throat as she could, feeling his cock pulse, over and over, against her cradling, caressing tongue as he came, grunting, panting, grunting again.

  She held him in the warm wet of her mouth until his rigid body softened, until his caught breath went to panting, then slowed. Slowly, she drew her lips up, gently nursing a final few seconds at the plump head before releasing him, and swallowing.

  She watched him gasp and shudder as she slid her fingers from his ass, then she lay her body over his, taking him into her arms, cradling his head, kissing his face, holding him through those fragile moments after his climax before finally undoing the restraints at his wrists. He pulled her down beside him, put his arms around her, held her to him.

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  “I must tell you, Vanka,” he said a long while later, “probably that is the best head I have ever been given.”

  “Thank you,” she answered lamely, skeptical. Embarrassed. “I've made a sort of study of the practice, over the years.”

  “Yes, I see.” He stroked the bit of down that had grown in so far, since she'd stopped chemo. “And tying me. That was the first time, for you?”

  “Tying someone else? Yeah.”

  “And fucking me with your fingers. Also that was the first time for you, doing that?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And even so, you found my . . .”

  “Your prostate.”

  “Yes. Tu sais, il y a la petite mort? But that, when you do that with your mouth and with your fingers, c'est la grande mort, ca,” he laughed. “Tying me did no harm, either. But I think that's not why you did it.”

  She only smiled, not knowing what to say.

  “Cher, cher Vanka. Mon ange blanche.” He kissed the crown of her head, and for a little while they slept there in the early morning sun.

  * * * *

  Vanka pulled her T-shirt on and tugged her panties up, then opened the bathroom door to let the steam out. She flossed and brushed and bent over the sink to rinse and spit. Grabbing a towel, she dabbed her face.

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  A firm, warm pressure against her ass pushed her against the counter. In the mirror her reflection peered back from behind a veil of steam, and behind her, Khalid.

  Leaning forward onto her hands, she dipped her back, offering herself. His stiff cock nestled into the cleft of her ass, his flexing hips sliding his erection up, then down.

  Khalid bent over her, wrapped an arm around her, pulling her up against him.

  “You tremble tonight, Vanka.” No helping it. She tried to calm her breathing. “It is the first time. Do you want me to leave you alone?”

  “No.”

  “Then come with me.”

  He took her into the bedroom, stood her at the foot of the bed, her back to him.

  “I want you naked,” he said in his softest voice.

  Shaking, she slid her panties off her hips, bent forward, and slipped them down her legs, and off. She straightened and stood, frozen, her fingers clutching the hem of her T-shirt. Khalid was still and silent behind her. Closing her eyes, holding her breath, she willed herself. Flexed her arms and pulled the T-shirt off.

  “Tonight, Vanka, I want to take you like a lover,” he whispered. “May I?”

  “Yes,” she breathed, feeling light-headed.

  Against the back of her neck there was a faint, warm touch. His lips. Brushing, parting, his breath tickling her nape, shivers raining down the length of her naked body.

  His fingertips tickled down her back, over her bottom, sending a thousand butterflies fluttering in her belly.

  “Lie down on the bed, Vanka.”

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  She crawled forward from the foot of the bed and laid down. Khalid climbed up behind her, but there was no touch. She waited.

  Finally, his touch feathered over the bottom of her foot, teasing over every toe, the ball, arch, heel, breezing up her calf, across the ticklish crease at the back of her knee, waking a throng of eager nerves even before he touched up the back of her thigh, her ass cheek, teasing across the startled nerves at the top of her cleft, and down the other side.

  Under her, the mattress pitched as Khalid shifted his weight to straddle her calves. The warm weight of his balls settled between her legs, their fur tickling her. The smooth heat of his chest pressed against the backs of her thighs. His breath breezed over her bottom.

  Warm, wet, his mouth was on her, lips brushing over the curve of her bottom, a gentle bite making her suck in her breath, the touch of his tongue cinching a thread in her belly. His mouth teased one cheek, then the other, played over the backs of her thighs, teasing toward the center.

  His weight came off her, his heat left her hot skin vulnerable to the cool air, and his hands closed over her ankles and slowly pushed her legs apart. Just a little. Then wider. Wider.

  He sank down between her legs, slid his hands under and wrapped his arms around her thighs, forcing her legs even further apart and palming her ass. His teeth raked over the tender flesh of her inner thigh. He bit and sucked, making her thrill and writhe.

  “Vanka, lover, you smell like you want to be fucked.”

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  The surprising ache in her cunt flared up. But why was she so fucking scared all of a sudden?

  “Do you want me to fuck you, Vanka?”

  She opened her mouth, but stayed quiet. Khalid dug his fingers into the firm flesh of her ass and spread her. She gasped out loud and dug her nails into the pillow and Khalid's warm, wet tongue slid up the crack of her ass, and she panted, wiggling helplessly as he diligently tongued her asshole.

  “Do you want me to fuck you, Vanka?” he asked again, sliding a single finger into her ass.

  “Yes,” she sighed, her fear mysteriously ebbing away.

  “Yes?” he breathed by her ear as he molded his lithe, warm weight to her her body.

  “Yes,” she sighed back.

  “Tell me.”

  “I want you to fuck me,” she whimpered, earnest, desperate. “Please, Khalid.

  Please. Fuck me.”

  There was the chafe of wood on wood—that same sound she'd heard that afternoon weeks earlier, when Galen had her bound, when she'd thought, for a few moments, that she was being raped. And now, for a flashing second, it struck her as strange that she could only be calm, only confess to Khalid how urgently she needed him to fuck her, now that she was sure he'd take her ass, and not her cunt.

  That seeking pressure opening her, then his body—his heat, his strength—

  curved against hers, his lips, his teeth, his tongue teasing, torturing her ear, her neck, 305

  his fingers weaving between her fingers, his voice saying, “Vanka. Je t'aime, Vanka,” as he worked his cock into her.

  “Please,” she breathed, “I need you, Khalid. Love. Khalid,” she groaned under his fucking.

  His arms wound around her, holding her hard to him as he flexed into her, his legs spreading and holding her, his fingers clinging, his mouth biting into her flesh.

  “Oui, Vanka. Amour. Nous avons besoin. Nous aimons.”

  After, they curled up, close, naked. Khalid gaze
d at her, his tranquil smile bending his lips, but some little flicker disturbed his placid eyes. She waited.

  “You see there is something I wish to say to you,” Khalid said. “But there is no reason to look so worried.”

  He found her hand under the covers, brought it up, kissed the back of a finger.

  “My dear Vanka,” he breathed, “you have given me so much. I do understand.

  You wanted to . . . you have . . . given to me precisely everything Galen could not.

  Hmmm? So maybe it will seem ungrateful. But I would like to ask something more of you.”

  “What?” she asked, her throat so tight it was hard to speak.

  “Today, when you bound me. And tonight, I smelled your want. It was the first time in a long time, no?”

  “Yes.”

  “I will give you a little time. I will wait for you to come to me. But the next time we are together, Vanka, I will ask you to let me give you pleasure.”

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  Chapter Ten

  Tentatively, she slid her middle finger between the flushed, full lips of her cunt, into her slick heat. Lately her sex was always swollen and wet, perpetual arousal making up for all the weeks of numb indifference.

  Going still, her finger buried deep inside her, she felt the water on her skin, strumming staccato on her scalp, on her shoulders, on her neck and back, delicate rivulets trickling down her face, her arms, her chest, her belly, her thighs.

  She pulsed her finger once, her cunt feeling that filling pressure, her finger feeling the slippery strength of her enfolding muscles. When she slid her finger from her cunt she lifted it to her face. The fluid coating her finger looked so clear, so innocuous, but the pungent smell of her sex worked on her, making her want to touch.

  When the tip of her finger brushed along her slit, her nerves fired off a volley.

  Untouched for weeks, almost two months, her cunt was more sensitive, more responsive than she remembered it ever being. The tiniest touch made her gasp, made her grunt, made her twitch her hips, her body shuddering away from that unbearable pleasure, then going after more.