Ilya Has Something to Say
What Stephen didn't know – or at least yet – was the fact that I had a little crush on him from the first day he appeared at my door looking for a place to live. What Stephen didn't know of course, is how...none of the words feel right. Attractive seems pedestrian. Beautiful seems maudlin. He is someone you can't look at just once and once you have really looked at him, you can't stop looking at him. It is the reason he has no trouble finding people to sleep with. I got the feeling that Troy was bewitched by him. I was bewitched by him.
Stephen is no blonde – I'm blonde – but he has light brown hair that is about five different colours at the same time. It's slightly shaggy and adorable. His eyes are this deep blue colour that in certain lights looks like how I imagine the bottom of the ocean looks. He was paler skin than I but his body is...I don't know. Perfectly proportioned? It's not like he works out all the time. He swims, mostly. But his body is smooth and toned and solid but not at all bulky. The contrast with his step-brother is striking, Mark's dark hair and deep brown eyes are completely the opposite.
And just so you know, this is the only time you will hear from me. But I wanted to tell you this part of the story since it is the part toward which this section has been leading. And yes, I can be dramatic, like many Russians, and perhaps melodramatic, but this is my way. Indulge me.
So I had this crush on Stephen, and that night we sat on our balcony and I gave us shots of the finest vodka and he declared his feelings to me, I was completely shocked. I hadn't expected it. I assumed he just thought we were friendly as roommates. I had no idea he had been pining for me.
The whole next day at the hospital I thought about us sitting there in the dark. I remembered kissing him which, when I did, I could hardly believe. His mouth was so sensual and warm. So much so, that I had to do it again. But I also had to tell him that right at that moment, there was no way I could do more. I wanted to, don't get me wrong. I wanted to with a hunger that shocked me.
At the hospital, I did all of what was expected of me, but part of my mind was on him, on his warmth, on his smell, on the way his eyebrows were shaped, on so many things about him. To distill it into one word, I would say Stephen is warm. He is as far from being Russian as you can get.
And when I got home that night and he was all wet from the rain he looked adorable. I sat with him on the sofa just to be near him for a moment, even though I was exhausted and just needed to sleep, I had to kiss him and it amazed me again that he felt the same. But it was the fact that we could sit and be quiet together that was the most exciting thing of all.
And his doubt about my feelings made me melt that first night. His face had looked so serious and so beautiful it stopped my breathe for a moment.
The next day, Deirdre stopped me in the middle of moving a patient from one room to the next. She noticed right away. She said, “What's with you, Ilya...you seem out of it.” She looked closer at me and said, with a big smile, “You little brat! You're in love. How do I not know about this?”
We kept moving down the hall with the patient who Deirdre had just finished stitching up, the victim of a knife fight that no doubt had to do with drugs. I had assisted and we had blood all all over our scrubs.. The man had bled so much we thought we would lose him. Welcome to Vancouver. In any case, I finally said, “He's the guy I rented the extra room to...”
We stopped and put the patient in the recovery room and walked back to the hallway. She turned and put her arm around my shoulder. “You mean Stephen? I had a feeling you were torching for him. I can't wait to meet him.”
I held up my hand and said, “Slow down! He's not my boyfriend yet. We've only just kissed and talked. Who knows what might happen.”
“Come on Ilya. I know you. You wouldn't have kissed the guy if you didn't think there was the possibility things might work out.”
She was right, of course. I smiled, despite myself, and said, “You're right. He's very sweet.”
“That's so adorable, Ilya.”
I realized how happy I was to talk about him. I had been sitting on this for so long I had almost gotten used to it being a secret.
Deirdre and I had lunch later in the cafeteria. Lunch is a euphemism. It was a tasteless sandwich and brown water that they called coffee. In the midst of talking with her, I realized there was only two weeks left of this rotation and then I would be free. What I hadn't told Stephen was that I was slated to start my psychiatry specialty at the end of the summer. I'm not sure why I hadn't told him. I think for me it was related to Sergei and somehow talking about the one felt like talking about the other. In other words, I wasn't quite ready to tell Stephen the details of my life with Sergei. Because my choice of psychiatry was in a way trying to understand Sergei.
But more than anything, I had a plan for the end of this rotation and completing my exams. I hadn't been worried about exams. I was good at remembering things and staying cool under pressure. That's what you need to be a doctor anyway. So I passed them all. I didn't sleep very much, but I passed them. I barely saw Stephen except in passing which was maddening. But I knew I had to prevail.
So early in July, I planned to go away with Stephen. I told him to book the last week of July off. We had barely seen each other for the weeks leading up to that. Short talks, sometimes watching a movie, sometimes sharing a meal. We were affectionate, we cuddled sometimes and kissed, but I was very clear that nothing else would happen. I wanted more, I hoped there would be more. I fantasized about what that would be like. Of course I did. But I was a little scared.
It was meeting him in the hallway that morning soon after our big conversation that really did it, really told me that if I was going to finish what I had to do, I would need to make sure we only kissed. He had walked out of the bathroom and I was in mid-sentence and there he was. Naked and gorgeous and so close to me. We stood there looking at each other and pretended like we were just flirting, but then I had to get closer, I had to touch him. I got closer and felt his body melt into mine. His hands were in my underwear, and mine on his beautiful ass. It felt so real and intimate. His cock was hot against mine and I pulled him closer. When he kissed my chest, when he sucked my nipples, when he got on his knees and prepared to suck my cock...I almost fainted...and then my alarm went off.
That was when I knew. We had to wait. My life wasn't ready to incorporate being with him, being sexual with him. And he had been so attuned to the moment. He got it right away and as if we had been married for years, he made me coffee and breakfast and sent me out into the world. That was almost the sweetest, most meaningful thing he had done.
The end of the emergency rotation arrived and I had a couple of days to recover. I slept for ages and hardly saw Stephen, who was working as well. But then the morning came when we were to leave together. I got up and he was sitting in the kitchen with some coffee. He had made us pancakes which I know he loves to do. I pulled him up from the table and hugged him for a long time. He felt so good. He felt so real. His eyes were bright with excitement.
I kissed him and said, “Let's get dressed. We have a drive ahead of us.”
What I hadn't told him was we were going to my little cabin just outside of Whistler. I know, I know. It's radical to go away with someone you have never actually slept with. But I couldn't help myself and I don't think he could, either.
I told him to pack some clothes for hiking and hanging around in, and when we were ready, we drove two hours and turned off the highway on a little road that went into the forest. My cabin is not very large, but very well built, and elegant in its own way. Solar powered electricity, big stone fireplace, beautiful, solid furniture, warm rugs. It wasn't very big. Just a large main room and two small bedrooms and a kitchen. And, full disclosure, I owned it. I hardly had time to visit it, but it was mine. Long story. Thank Sergei. I'll say more about that later.
Stephen seemed excited and he poked around the place, telling me how much he loved it, which I was glad to hear.
Once we settled in, we went for a little hike into the woods to a creek that ran down the slope from the cabin, rushing and sloshing. It was bucolic and still and he turned to me and we hugged for a while. We barely talked which was something I was starting to really like about him. He seemed not to need to talk when we were together. I know he's a chatty person, but he and I seemed to have this kind of effect on each other. We were standing really close and the heat of his body was electric and our kissing became more intense. I ran my hands down his back and over the firmness his muscular ass. I gripped him there, pulling him closer. I could feel the energy running through my body, unimpeded; I felt excited and wanted more. It was obvious he felt the same way, his kisses seeming to get even deeper.
He slid his hands into the front of my pants and gripped me which felt startling and reminded me of that moment in the hallway where we had almost been able to start something, but couldn't. I moved my hips so the aching hardness in my pants slid against his and our mouths seem to open more, our kisses feeling almost desperate. I couldn't believe it was actually happening after all this time with no worry of interruptions or hesitations. He pulled back and said very softly, “Can we go back...?”
I took him by the hand and we made our way into the cabin. Without saying anything, I led us to the bedroom and I gently pushed him onto his back. I was feeling really excited in a way I hadn't felt for a long time. Stephen seemed so safe. It's obvious why I say that, I'm sure.
I moved so that I was sitting on him, straddling his body and I pulled his t-shirt up and over his head which he shrugged off. I threw it beside us and looked down at his smooth, subtly sculpted chest with a little spray of hair around his nipples that thinned and narrowed down his belly. I put my hand softly on his collar bone and traced his soft skin, turning my hand so the backs of my fingers ran down his belly that rose and fell gently with his breath. I looked up at his face, and his eyes were bright, and he had the beginnings of a smile.
Pulling myself back so I was sitting on his lower legs, I reached for the fly of his pants, pulling down the zipper, and then, with my fingers tucked in the waist, pulled them down over his strong thighs, revealing, when he had helped me extract his legs, pure white boxer briefs that clearly showed the outline of him, hard and muscular underneath the fabric.
I sat up and pulled my own shirt off, then unfastened my pants, sitting back on the bed so I could kick them off. I kept going, pulling my black briefs off, wanting to be as open to him as I could, wanting him to see all of me: simple, unencumbered, open.
He sat up and tugged his briefs down and kicked them off the bed with a chuckle. We were both on our knees and he pulled me toward him, wrapped his strong arms around my torso, and I mirrored him, our bodies in contact, our impossibly hard cocks together, hot and moist. It felt electrified, that moment, and I gasped and kissed him at the same time. Softly, gently but with increasing energy, with quickly desperate movements of our tongues we kept kissing. I put my hand on the back of his neck and pulled him closer, the feeling of wanting to be inside his body, to be a part of him, making crazy bolts of energy run from my groin through my cock which pressed against the soft hair around his, the head of his cock pushing against my belly.
He very gently, but firmly, pushed me backward so that I was lying facing up, him on top of me, our mouths still together. He gently bit my lower lip and it made me thrust my hips into him, my cock rubbing against his.
I found some energy and, holding him firmly around his waist, I turned us over so I was on top. I remembered the morning I saw him lying on the sofa with Troy. His legs had looked so beautiful, his cock even more so. I remember not being able to breathe. This felt like that. I started to kiss his neck and kiss my way down to his chest to his nipples, which I gently bit and sucked, then I licking the space between them, tasting his Stephenness, enjoying his slightly spicy smell and some sort of cologne that I wasn't expecting that was woodsy and soft. His nipples were hard, not too large, but soft against my tongue. I moaned, not quite believing we had actually got to this point.
I pushed myself up onto my hands and looked down at him. His eyes were wet and the simplicity of the emotion he was clearly feeling was almost overwhelming. I leaned down and kissed him as softly as I could. He responded in kind, and his breath felt warm and eager on my face. It was so different than...but I stopped myself. That was a different time, and one that I didn't have to think about even if part of me was yet to be convinced this time was not like that. But this time with Stephen, the rest of me knew, was entirely different.
And with that sensitivity he had, he saw my hesitation however brief it was. He very slowly turned us, still holding me, so that I was underneath him again. He kissed me, but them his lips began to travel down to my neck; his lips, then his tongue very softly tracing the curves to my collarbone, then my shoulders, with a few gentle bites, then a kiss, then his tongue licked down to one of my nipples, circling it, then lapping it, then sucking it with a kiss, his teeth just grazing it. Bolts of blind pleasure went thought my back to my cock and I took his strong, soft butt in my hands for stability as I pressed my cock up his chest, feeling the hair rub against the shaft.
He moved his mouth across to my other nipple and he raised his torso up and I felt his hands slide down and gently take hold of me, his thumb tucked into the little cleft below the head of my cock, caressing the impossibly sensitive, uncut skin. He licked the other nipple then nibbled it a little more firmly. I gasped and dug my fingers into his back. He felt so...I can't think of the word. Generous. His mouth moved down my belly and I ran my hands through his hair. He really did feel so generous. As if he was giving me something out of his own free will that was in no way an exchange or something that needed to be matched, it was just him giving himself to me.
I felt his breath on my cock and I felt the first twinge of fear out of nowhere. It made no sense. Sergei had never been interested in how I tasted, merely wanting to fuck me, over and over. So I couldn't understand where the fear was coming from until I realized it was fear that was in response to how open I felt, how ready to let Stephen be himself with me and in order for that to happen, I needed to be utterly unguarded. It was what he wanted most from me and that set off little alarms. He breathed deeply a few times, then he stopped moving and raised his head and looked at me. I could see the way he could take me in – take anyone in – and understand. His sensitivity was breathtaking. He said to me, “You don't have to do anything that you don't want to do...”
I shook my head and made him sit up. I took his hand and told him more. I told him more about what Sergei had done to me. I told him and he just listened. I told him about being taken, raped, used. What had begun as intense love that I was caught up in and responded to, and gave back to him, had become domination. He had almost killed me when I left him and I had had to call the police to get him away from me.
For a moment he just looked at me, his eyes wide. He shook his head and said, “Sergei's not here. He will never be here again, Ilya.” I nodded, most of me believing him. Stephen, all over again, kissed me, starting with my lips, then down to my chest, my belly. He looked up with a smile, as if he had just solved the problem of a complicated series of locks and fuses that disarmed the bombs in me and very gently ran his tongue over the head of my cock. Just once.
He leaned back, looking at my cock as if seeing it for the first time. He leaned down and kissed the shaft, then again, and again. Each time he did, it reflexively jumped. He put his hand around it which felt firm and warm. He kissed the head, then put his lips around the oozing opening, running his tongue over it at the same time. Pleasure shimmered in radiating bursts from my cock all over my body. He sucked more of my cock into him, funning his tongue along the underside. His mouth felt so warm and wet and secure. I closed my eyes and let the pleasure be just that: pleasure. It was just him giving it to me and I was worthy of receiving it.
I felt his fingers grip the base and he moved his head, allowing my cock to be massaged by his mouth, by the softness of his tongue. The feelings were like little bolts of energy and I gasped and felt an eruption almost happen and he stopped moving. He let go of my cock and moved his mouth down to my balls which I had trimmed for the occasion. He licked them and then sucked each of them into his mouth, gently caressing them, bathing them.
Then back to my cock and he repeated the slow sensual play of mouth and tongue and fingers and brought me to the edge of things and stopped again. My cock was twitching in his mouth, and I could feel liquid funning up the shaft and out which he swallowed with his own little, desperate, moans.
He let go of my cock and when I looked it was rigid and wet, throbbing in time with my heartbeat. He pushed my legs apart and stuck his face under my balls, his nose covered by them and licked the space beneath. He pushed further until I felt his tongue funning over that most vulnerable place of all, lightly, softly, then with more force until with impossible sweetness, his tongue began to slide into me. He fluttered it and I gasped again, pushing his head so he could go deeper.
But then he lifted his head and looked at me. His lips were wet and his eyes were boring into mine. He moved back up and again, with his fingers on the base of my cock, his mouth and tongue sliding over the head, slowly brought me to the moment where I was sure I would fill his mouth, but he seemed to know precisely when to stop, because he became still just at the moment before there was no stopping.
I groaned louder. I could hear birds outside and a soft wind in the trees because the room was otherwise silent. I looked down at my cock which was twitching and a long stream of clear liquid started to ooze out of the head and drip down like syrup. He leaned forward and caught it with his tongue and followed the stream up to the head, taking it in with a soft slurp, then swallowed with a moan. He leaned back and looked at me, now grinning playfully. He kissed my belly, then stuck his tongue in my navel which tickled. But then, the energy in me having gone down, went back to my cock, bringing me to that point again, and then, after a pause where he moved up and kissed me, did it again. I don't know where he learned this, but it was one of the most intense and wonderfully frustrating things I had ever felt.
But then he sat up, looking at me. I could tell he was thinking about something. I sat up and kissed him, kissed his face, his neck and sucked on his earlobe. He pushed me back so we were face-to-face. He softly said, “What would you like?”
That he could ask me, that I had a choice was almost as erotic as what he had already done. But it was the right question. What did I want? But I couldn't say anything and in some ways it was obvious that in that moment, I wanted release both from history and from the unbelievable pressure he had created with his mouth on my body. And because I didn't say anything, he understood.
He leaned forward and kissed me once more, before gently pushing me back down, then enclosing the head of my cock with his mouth, and stroking the lower half lightly with his fingers. This time there was no hesitation, there was no restraints. His mouth moved faster, then his hand gripped and massaged with more force and all that pent up energy began to flow. I threw my head back and dug my hands into the bed and the pleasure was so overwhelming that I think I blacked out, but also cried out and it was almost as if those years of pain and trauma dissolved, erupted out of my cock and into Stephen's mouth. Over and over my body pumped and he held his mouth there, his lips massaging, his hand squeezing the last gush out of me. I felt his hand caress my balls as if to encourage the last of my cum out.
The energy finally started to fade, my breathing slowed and Stephen, who had been holding still, pulled away. He sat up and his eyes caught mine as he swallowed. He swallowed all that I had given him. His smile got bigger and he leaned down and our mouths met yet again, and he kissed me deeply. I could taste myself on his tongue.
He sat back and said, very softly, so softly that I almost didn't hear it, but I felt the breath that produced the tiny sound gently flow over my face, “I'm so in love with you, Ilya.”
I felt both stunned and relieved at the same time. A strange feeling. But to hear those words after the weeks and weeks of intense longing on both of our parts was surely the logical conclusion. What else could he say? So I said, “How could I not love you?”
He laughed and tucked his nose into the space between my neck and shoulder. I could feel him breathing. He said, “You taste just like I thought you would.”
He was forever coming out with things like this that seemed so simple, so effortless but felt so significant. I brushed some of his messy, wavy hair out of his face. I said, “Thank you.”
Raising his head and bit my chin and said, “Oh, you'll thank me in lots of ways...”
With a laugh, I felt my stomach gurgling and I said, “We need to eat lunch before anything else happens.”
So we got up. I found a robe for him and put on mine. We spent an hour making lunch then ate it at the little table in the kitchen listening to the wind blow in the trees outside, a soft, white noise that seemed nothing but peaceful. When we had done, he got up and was standing by the sink, washing our plates. I moved up behind him and hugged him, pressing my body into his. I could feel myself getting hard again. I opened my robe and pulled his off from behind so he was there, naked, my thickening cock squeezing in between his dense, warm cheeks. I whispered in his ear, “Can I...?”
He turned to me and even though we had just eaten, hungrily devoured my mouth. He whispered, even though there was no one else to hear, “Whenever you want.”
I laughed and said, “I mean now.”
He took me by the hand and we went into the bedroom again. We pulled ourselves onto the bed and I pulled his strong legs apart and lay down on my belly so my face was over his pulsing cock. He's not huge, but as I said, his cock was a generous size, cut and somewhat thick, the shaft smooth, the head not too large. I kissed the head and tasted the sweetness of him. I kissed my way down to the cleft where some of his precum had collected. I moaned and sucked it in, feeling the the whole thing twitch in my mouth. With my tongue, I licked down to the base, the tried to wrap my lips around it, feeling how strong and filled with life his cock was. His animal smell was so warm and vulnerable, vulnerable in a way that only inspired my own and I found I was slowly fucking the bed at the same time.
I sat up and reached into my bag and found the little bottle. He sat up and took it from me and squeezed out some onto his hands and then massaged it into my cock. I almost came it was so intense, but I held myself. I took the bottle and pushed him backwards. I felt a little unsure of myself since I was not used to fucking, despite loving it when I had. Sergei never let me, but I enjoyed it with previous boyfriends.
He was lying there looking up at me, his face eager. I slid my now slippery fingers into him, the warmth of him welcoming me. I got myself between his legs and he spread them out and up revealing his beautiful, vulnerable self. I almost started to cry. Again, he made the simplest thing feel profound. I took his ankles in my hands and put the head of my cock right at the lips of that delicate place. I slowly rotated my hips so the head of my cock circled around it and then I pushed gently at the same time. I continued the pressure and his body opened to me. I could feel the muscles relax, his incredibly soft place envelop me, caress me, hold me. I shut my eyes and felt every bit of my cock slide in. I lowered my body onto his and then as our mouths met, my cock was completely in, my balls resting on his warm body.
I opened my eyes and he was looking right into me. He has this way of looking at people as if he's reading their minds which in a way he is, but it's not mysterious. He's just incredibly sensitive and astute. I pulled my hips back and pushed slowly. He said, “Yes...” It was almost just a breath.
I found myself smiling as I did it again, but with a little more force. I gripped his ankles more firmly and made my cock go deeper, pushing him into the bed. I felt him reach around and take my ass in his hands and helped me by pushing. I reared back and he pushed me harder. And harder. I started to move faster. Our lips were connected but our mouths were still. I could feel his breath go into my mouth. He started to moan very softly and my lips moved, my tongue and then my whole body found energy. I fucked him. I was fucking him. He pulled his legs in and I felt his lower legs cross around my back. My hips and legs were moving smoothly, my cock finding depths with effortless force.
There was a steady buildup of energy in me that seemed to radiate out of my balls into the head of my cock. I kissed him more desperately. I hadn't fucked anyone in so long if felt like I didn't know myself and I didn't recognize the feelings that suddenly rose exponentially. I pulled away from his mouth for a moment. I managed to gasp, “Stephen, I'm...”
All he said was, “Yes...” But he said it with a smile as if I had just told him the most wonderful thing.
And it was the most wonderful thing. My body seemed to want to fly into space and I moved with more direction and less precision, and I fucked him blindly as my body went into a spasm of something amazing, and I could feel my cock, as it continued to plumb his depths even more, spurting, flowing, cum seeming to pulse from my body into his. I leaned back, trying to find the stability to keep going because my cock wasn't finished and right then he took hold of his and with just a few movements of his fist, his cock erupted, jets of cum spurting out hitting his open mouth, his chin, his nose. He closed his mouth and it splashed on his lips, then he began to laugh. A simple, boyish laugh as if he was amazed at what his body had just done.
I leaned down and we kissed. I could taste all his cum – his essence – and we shared it between us as our bodies gradually slowed until we were still. Our mouths were still connected but I couldn't move any more. His tongue was resting against mine.
I finally had to sit up as my back was at a strange angle. I looked down as I pulled my cock slowly out of him. It was wet and streaked with my cum. Once I was out I leaned down and kissed his still streaming cock, tasting him again. I licked his balls very gently and kissed my way up his body, sucking up cum as I moved until I was lying beside him. We were still breathing heavily, but with less urgency. He took my hand and kissed it. He turned and looked at me. We were on our sides, our softening cocks resting against each other. His face was still wet with his cum, but his smile was still bright and open.
I pulled his body toward me and slid my leg between his so our chests could be in contact, our cocks pressed together and his face close to mine. I said, “Where did you come from?”
With a soft chuckle, he said, “Maybe Mars. I can't remember. The space travel did something to my head.”
It was so unexpected and ridiculous that I burst out laughing. But then he looked more serious and said, “But I'm here now and I'm not leaving.”
For a second, I remembered Sergei saying something that sounded similar but in retrospect was entirely different. He had said he was never leaving but that felt more like a threat. When Stephen said it, it meant many things, the physical fact of him not leaving me not even the most important. It felt like a gift.
We lay for some time. I listened to a bird just outside the window and I imagined it was proclaiming to the woods the fact of us being together. It was worth announcing to the natural world. But then I closed my eyes and dozed, the peacefulness of the moment finally taking me away into rest.
When I woke up the room was darker as the sun was now behind the cabin. I must have slept the afternoon away. I could hear noises from the kitchen. Stephen had covered me in a light blanket. I turned and lay on my back, looking at the beams the crossed the ceiling.
I pulled myself from the bed and found my robe. I walked out into the main room. He had lit a fire and I could smell something cooking. He had tidied up our lunch and set the table with candles. I watched him standing at the stove. He was in his underwear and a t-shirt which was adorable, but also incredibly beautiful. His ass was so firm, his back strong, his legs lithe and elegant.
He turned and gave me the nicest smile. “Do you want some wine? I'm roasting that chicken you brought. I hope that's all right.”
I had to laugh and said, “How could that not be all right?”
He handed me a glass and I filled it from an open bottle of red that was on the counter. He was stirring something on the stove so I stepped over and looking in the pot. He said, “I'm making custard.”
“Custard? Where did you learn to do that?”
“My grandmother. My mother's mother. She's a good cook. She's very old now...”
I could see there was a story there, no doubt about the loss of his mother and how his grandmother coped with the same loss. But the custard smelled delicious. I stuck my finger in and tasted it. My parents barely cooked anything beyond potatoes and sausages, and I was almost envious. I stuck my finger in again and he grabbed it and put it in his mouth, sucking on my finger and giving me an almost elfin look. Everything he did could be a prelude to us having sex, but I restrained myself.
I sipped my wine and watched him work. I offered to help, but he told me he wanted to do it on his own.
When we sat down, we toasted to each other and ate the chicken, the custard with strawberries and then sat by the fire on the big sofa, a blanket around us as the the air was getting cool and it had started to rain outside.
By unspoken agreement, he had gotten out of his briefs and I had left my robe on the floor. But we weren't feeling sexual, it was just more cozy to be curled up together in front of the fire, skin to skin.
The sex we had already had, had taken the energy out of us being together so we could just relax. We talked about our lives. I talked more about Sergei. I told him things I had never told anyone about him and what he was like. I told him because I couldn't help myself. He looked shocked at some of it. But mostly he just listened. People don't realize that sometimes the most important thing to do is just listen. You don't have to say anything, or solve the problem, or make anyone feel better. Because how could I feel better about how Sergei treated me? Just listen.
And he told me about Mark and the process of him realizing he was bisexual. I think he assumed I would be shocked that they had started to have sex. But to me it was just two men discovering their attraction for each other. And in Stephen's case, for the first time. That night they were together– fuelled by MDMA – sounded almost magical and strange. I kissed him and told him I was glad he discovered this with someone he trusted.
He told me about some of the adventures he had had in Vancouver after he left his relationship with Susan. I couldn't imagine how hard that must have been. Stephen is someone who can pretend that things don't bother him, but don't be fooled.
But mostly we just lay together, naked. That was, in and of itself, enough. Just to feel his body next to me, on me, touching me. It had been so long. I imagined that Sergei's ghost was being exorcised, banished from my life. I only bought the cabin after the divorce so it felt unsullied by him.
But this? With Stephen? It felt like I was in an entirely different place. A new place.
After the fire died down, the room became more cool, so I got up and pulled him into the bedroom and we got another blanket and wrapped ourselves together and he seemed to fall asleep almost immediately. He was on his side with his face in my neck, one of his legs folded over mine, his arm draped across my chest. I lay for a while, feeling him breathe, feeling his warm breath on my neck. The moment felt achingly serene. I found Russian tears filling my eyes and I wanted to wake him up and declare my love all over again. But I stayed still and realized that I wanted something that both excited me and scared me. I wanted him inside me. I wanted to be fucked by Stephen. It felt like doing so would banish the last remnant of Sergei from my body. But at that moment, all I wanted was to sleep.
When I woke up, it was barely dawn. There was the sound of a bird in the distance, but the light in the forest around the cabin was dim and still except for the occasional sound of drops of water from the trees now that the rain had stopped. Stephen was lying on his back snoring softly, his mouth partly open. He looked adorable. The blanket had shifted in the night and he was more or less uncovered, just one leg and an arm still underneath. His body was – as I always experienced it – so lovely, almost like a Greek statue in its perfect proportions. Even his half-hard cock, though a good size, was in keeping with the rest of him.
I leaned down and kissed it, smelling his body, the warm, masculine musk of him in my mouth as I licked it, feeling it swell and shift under my tongue. I heard his voice say, “Good morning...what a nice way to be woken up.”
I felt his hand on in my hair as I suckled on the end of his cock, the flavour of him complicated and almost intoxicating. His cock was now hard as iron and felt rigid and hot in my mouth. I felt ready. I moved up and straddled his body with his cock tucked underneath my balls. I could feel it twitch and throb. I leaned down so my mouth was close to his and said, “I want you in me, Stephen.”
He looked at me a moment, his eyes giving me that lightning fast assessment that I was becoming familiar with. He said, “You seem sure...”
I nodded. “I am sure. I'm also scared, but feeling sure is the stronger of the two.”
I reached across for the little bottle by the bed and gave it to him. He gently worked some lube into me, his fingers careful and exploratory. He soon had at least three fingers in me and it felt like magic. It felt better than I had ever experienced. I won't say what it felt like with Sergei. This felt loving. Caring. I flexed my thighs and rose up and he began to slip the head of his cock into me and I used my body weight to push down. I stretched – he was bigger than Sergei, the last person to fuck me – but it also felt like I was opening up to him. I continued to press myself down and I felt every tiny part of his cock come in contact with me.
I said, “This feels so real, Stephen. I feel real.”
“You are,” was all he said.
I stopped moving and let myself understand the feeling in my body, the sensation of my body stretching, adjusting, not panicking. I shifted my hips so his cock went a little deeper into me. The whole time his eyes never left mine. It wasn't that he was checking to see if I was in distress, it was him just joining me in the experience of his body inside me. I lifted myself very slowly, feeling my muscles release him until just head of his cock was in me, then I just as slowly pushed down, experiencing it all over again in the other direction. Very tentatively, I shifted my fingers on my cock which felt almost painfully hard. I lifted myself again completely off his cock. I reached down and gripped it, feeling the smoothness and the heat. I held it up and pushed myself on it, my muscles relaxing more and I became increasingly open, more ready. I smiled and he grinned and without a word we understood.
He began to arc his hips up and down in a smooth, shallow, ever-increasing parabola and I flexed my thighs and joined his energy with mine. I kept my fist on my cock. Not stroking, but gripping. We continued for some time and there was no moment of panic, no flash-backs, no numbness. It was all about pleasure and, yes, love.
We didn't work hard, our energy was gentle. We had had our eruptions the previous evening. This felt like a benediction, a statement of our feelings. I pushed down and he pushed up and the feel of him inside me was profound. And I was in control of it. When I slowed, he slowed. When I became more insistent, he matched me.
And then, after a few more minutes, when my cock overflowed all over my fist and drooled onto his stomach and my body seemed to be glowing, he reached his own orgasm and he cried out with a gasp, his hips moving quickly. I could feel his body trembling and then very slowly still, his cock moving less, his breathing calming. He reached for me and stroked my cum-covered cock, then brought his hand to his mouth, licking it off. He ran his hand through my cum on his chest and did it again. I liked his little obsession with cum. It was so boyish and eager.
Our bodies were still connected, so I lifted myself off him, and he slid out. I lay down beside him and we pulled each other close and kissed. And kissed. And kissed some more. I had done it. I had banished Sergei for good. That's how it felt. It was a redemption. Now I am being dramatic and Russian, but this is how I felt.
We stayed in bed the rest of the day. We ate lunch and he fucked me again. We ate dinner there, and I fucked him. We slept into the early morning and I sucked him until he gave me more of himself, then did the same to me. We spent the rest of the week mostly in bed save for a few walks in the forest. And we talked about our lives and the future.
On the drive back to Vancouver, we had a more practical discussion. He told me about his plan to start at UBC in January to finish his degree but now in social work and then do a Masters. The question for us both became where would we do this? Neither one of us was sure where. Certainly not south of the border.
He said at one point, “But Ilya, where do you want to live? If it could be anywhere, where would that be?”
I surprised both of us by saying, “London. Not Ontario. The other one.”
Shocked, he said, “Why there?”
But I already knew the answer. “Because it is the place my mother always told me my parents should never have left after they got away from Russia, from Perm and the organized crime. I told you about that?” Stephen nodded. “Well, I've been to London many times. I have a cousin there and I always feel comfortable.”
Stephen was quiet for a moment. He said, “Well, would it be difficult for me to do my training there?”
“I don't think so. Not any more difficult than anywhere else. Are you saying what I think you're saying? That you would want to go there together?”
He looked surprised. “Of course! Ilya...I will go wherever you go.”
Right then I had a Russian moment. I began to cry and wanted to hug him and pledge eternal love. But the rest of me said, “I'm glad. I will do the same for you.”
It was his turn to cry and we both felt ridiculous but happy.
He said, “When we get back, let's do some research. And figure out how we will pay for all this schooling and moving...”
I had to cut him off. I had a little secret. I wonder if you guessed? I said, “No. Stephen. This is irrelevant.”
Turning to me looking very confused, he said, “How can it be irrelevant?”
I took a moment to formulate how to tell him. “Because when my marriage to Sergei ended, the court - who supported me completely from the very beginning of our awful divorce - awarded me two-thirds of the assets we had jointly owned. But that really meant two-thirds of Sergei's money. And Sergei was, because he is the son of a Russian oligarch, very wealthy. Sergei could not hide his assets, or he forgot to. In any case, I was awarded enough money for what we need.”
For a few minutes, Stephen said nothing. Then he quietly said, “How much”
I felt foolish and said, “Does it matter?”
Stephen said, “Not really, but...”
“I was awarded about seven million dollars. Something like that, anyway.”
He turned to me and his shocked expression made me laugh. I took his hand and said, “You are so impossibly cute when you're startled. Adorable!”
He looked uncomfortable and said, “But Ilya, I come from a very modest family. We had enough, but there was no excess. I have no idea what that kind of money would be like.”
I nodded. “I understand. For the most part I don't think about my financial situation. The money is there because I was owed it. Not just because I was married to him, but because it was also payment for how he treated me. But we can use it to help us live the way we want.” I stopped, feeling slavic passion well up in me. “And I want to use that money to make a difference, not to purchase big chilly houses or cosmetic surgery.”
Stephen didn't say much for a while. When we were driving into the outskirts of Vancouver he finally said, “I will feel guilty taking your money, Ilya.”
That surprised me. “Why? I don't understand?”
He didn't say anything. Then I saw the solution. It was obvious. “Stephen...I see it this way. You'll finish your degree and in the meantime we'll research how to move to England in the most expedient way. And when we have planned that, we'll get married – assuming you'll have me – and at that point, half of everything will be yours anyway. Thus, no guilt.” I knew it was more complex than that, but it was a start.
Now he looked shocked all over again. He didn't say anything, but when we got to our apartment and dumped our bags he pushed me onto my bed and very quickly pulled my clothes off, then his own. He got on his back and said to me, in his most Stephen of Stephenish ways, “I want you to fuck me. I want this to be our contract. I want you to seal this deal with you cock.”
I laughed because he was half-serious and half-ridiculous, but it excited me. I made sure my cock was as slippery as it could be so I could – to use his words - seal this deal with a lot of force. I said, “How hard should I seal this deal?”
Laughing harder, he said, “As hard as you want to seal it.”
I let him guide my cock in, and he put his arms around my shoulders and pulled, so my cock slid deeper and our mouths could come together and we kissed almost hungrily. I leaned back and he had a wicked smile on his face. “I want you to fuck me as hard as you can, Ilya. You're now engaged to a very dirty boy.”
I liked the glint in his eyes. I pulled my cock out of him completely, then drove it into him as deep as it would go. I said, feeling equally dirty, “Did other people fuck you like this?”
He grinned at me and kissed me more sloppily. “Not like this. It could never be like this. But yes, I've been fucked in all kinds of ways. Mark and Trevor both fucked me...” He got an even more wicked smiled on his face and said, “Trevor has a huge cock and it was Trevor that really convinced me that I was bisexual.” I took another lunge into him. He closed his eyes and gasped, then opened them, looking a little demonic, saying, “Maybe the four of us...”
His words were like a slightly evil spell, and I took a few more deep thrusts, still almost scared I would hurt him, but when his hands gripped my ass and pushed, I could see that he liked it. And what he had just said sounded exciting. I had never been adventurous with sex but hearing Stephen say that made me want to be, and I fucked him harder. I gripped his thighs and found leverage to go even deeper. Our bodies were smacking together. I glanced down and watched my cock disappear into him.
I suddenly imagined Stephen in all sorts of situations and the fact that he was more experienced than I, more adventurous than I, didn't bother me at all. In fact it excited me. I moved even faster, and I closed my eyes, imagining him with Mark and Trevor. And then I imagined that I was part of it, I imagined being with Stephen on these adventures. I braced my legs on the bed so that I could use my excitement, to feel the softness inside him hold me, feeling that mindless urgency as I pictured him with those two, wondering what it looked like. I said, “Did you fuck them?”
He could tell I was trying to picture the scene. He pulled my face close and said, “I fucked Mark. He was the first man I ever fucked. But none of that was as free as this feels, not as good, not as...loving.”
I opened my eyes wide at his use of the word. And I pictured Mark fucking him. Pictured Trevor fucking him...me being fucked by one of them as Stephen watched. A whole series of images went through my mind and I felt myself grow more excited, more urgent, as he held me tighter, and the sense that sex is like being increasingly impatient, that to reach an orgasm is like a small child having a tantrum that is only quieted when they are given the best thing in the world. That is where I found myself. My body took over, and the best thing in the world washed over me and I could feel my cock filling him with cum.
Stephen was laughing, and he pushed us up so we were sitting face-to-face and I was still inside him. He started to use his fist on himself, fast, but I took over. I wanted to give him this as well, and I held his gaze while I brought him the best thing, and soon he cried out and his body let go and covered my hand, my wrist, his belly, with hot white cum, and it felt like the most intimate thing. He took my hand off him and brought it to his mouth and, still looking at me, cleaned it off, then kissed me and we indeed shared the best thing in the world. Because it wasn't the cum, it was us. We were the best thing in the world.
