Happiness was the End
So you heard all about Trevor and Mark's adventure with Sergei, right? It sounded amazing and frankly, really hot. When Josh told me about the night they “screened” it with Sanjay and the two of them, and what happened after, I was a little jealous. It had been a long time since I'd had sex with any of them. But all in all, my connection with Ilya made up for anything else. I've never felt so entwined with someone before. So close. So vulnerable. I could tell him anything and he told me everything.
Especially about what Sergei did to him. Abusive. The bastard. So when I heard about the extravagantly compromising video that Trevor and Mark recorded of Sergei being dominated and fucked and covered in cum, that made me feel there was justice in the world.
But Ilya was a little scared, and it made sense to me. He worried that Sergei's father would seek retribution and not just for the video. For the fact that Sergei lost a pile of money in the divorce, for one. And probably that Ilya had lured his son into sucking cock, or some homophobic shit like that. Can you tell I'm angry?
But Ilya, ever practical, began to make plans with me. We decided to move to England. And Ilya reminded me that I could get a British passport through my father, who was born in Sheffield. I forgot about that and it would make us emigrating much easer. But we got married just to make it that much easer. The only other people there were Josh and Sanjay looking adorable in really nice suits.
I felt bad that I hadn't told Mark any of this until it was done, but we had to be discreet in case Sergei's family was keeping tabs on us. Just before we got on the plane, I sent an encrypted email to Mark telling him everything, giving him our new address in the UK and that Ilya would be taking my last name. Not that it would conceal his identity very well, but it was that Ilya wanted to distance himself from his Russian life and past.
At the wedding, once we had exchanged rings and kissed and all that, we had a lovely dinner with Josh and Sanjay who, by the way, were inspired by us and would be getting married themselves in a few months, and we boarded a plane that night. We just thought that if we were going to make the change, we should just do it. A clean break. I would sort out my family later and spend a long time talking to Mark because I knew he would be hurt. But I also knew that he would understand. And besides, we would make sure that he and Trevor would come to visit as often as possible.
We bought a good-sized old farmhouse on some land not far from a village called Heath and Reach. Look it up. I'm not kidding about the name. It's not too far from London so we could commute and if we needed to stay over, but we also rented a little flat south of the river. The farm took a sizable chunk of Ilya's money – not that there wasn't plenty left – but we wanted something out-of-the-way, but nice.
And then, the day we rented a car and drove to our new house, we had a bed delivered. It was the only piece of furniture in the whole place. Oh, and some sheets. You see where I'm going with this, right? Yeah, so we got into our new house. It was a little chilly and smelled of old books and furniture polish and wood smoke. The bed was in the big main room in front of the huge cold fireplace. It was an old farmhouse, built in the mid-1700's and I could feel the weight of many years. The ceilings were a little low, but it made it feel cozy. We had come from a pub in the village nearby where we had dinner and some cider so we were feeling pretty mellow.
I stood by the bed with Ilya and just looked at him. Really looked at him. It's not that I hadn't before – obviously through all those months of my crush on him I had studied him closely – but now I wanted to take him in as my husband, as my best friend, as the most important person in the world to me. I said, “Take off your clothes. All of them. I want to look at you.”
He gave me a slow smile and kissed me really softly. Then he stood back and pulled his sweater off, then the t-shirt underneath. He undid his trousers and slid them down his strong legs, then wiggled out of his white boxer briefs. His cock was soft, for now, hanging there all vulnerable and delicious.
I took a step forward and put my hand on his shoulder, on the fine bones around his neck, tracing the angles and the hollows, kissing all over the muscles at the top of his arms. The light hair on his chest accentuated the contours. I ran my hand down one arm, feeling the smoothness. I took his hand and brought it to my lips. His fingers were slim and elegant. I kissed each one of them, then sucked his thumb into my my mouth. He inhaled quickly as if I had shocked him. I sucked his thumb as if it was a cock, using my tongue to trace its contours.
I released his hand and stepped a little closer. I kissed his jaw that had a little blonde stubble on it, tasting his skin, the taste now familiar and exciting at the same time. I glanced down at his cock and saw it was swelling, starting to poke into my thigh. I could see it get larger each time his heart beat, the head getting fatter and taking on more colour. I restrained myself from getting on my knees.
From outside I could hear a wind blowing across the fields and in the distance there was a dog talking to the growing evening. Otherwise it was silent.
I said, “Get on the bed.”
He smiled again and kissed my nose. I could tell he was curious and excited. His cock was now standing up. I gave it a little stroke once he was on his back. I pulled my shirt off, then my pants and flung my briefs across the room. The air was cool in the room, but I knew that wouldn't last long. I got on the bed and knelt by his chest. I leaned down and our mouths met as softly as before in a slow series of kisses. Our breath mingled and I could smell cider and another, Ilya smell from his mouth. I ran my hand down his chest to his taut belly, then back up. His skin felt like silk and for a moment I wondered for the millionth time how someone could treat such a beautiful man as Sergei did. But then I did some internal voodoo and banished the thought. Sergei had no power here.
I kissed his collar bone, then licked it. I kissed the little divot at the centre of his neck, then ran my tongue over it. He tasted a little salty and a little spicy and there was a soft smell of him that was warm and fragrant, a familiar smell like a forest or a clear mountain lake and then that indefinable, Ilya smell. I kissed his chest, licked each nipple until I could feel them swell a little. I said, “Turn over.”
He slowly shifted and got on his stomach. The expanse of his back with more gentle muscles made me hungry to fuck him, but I held back. I kissed, then ran my tongue down his spine to the top of his ass. His muscular butt, those two almost white masses of flesh made my mouth water. I kissed them in a million different places, then with my tongue I licked from the top of the crack them down, then deeper, all the way down as far as I could reach to the space between his balls and his ass, then back up ever deeper. I could feel my tongue pass over his vulnerable asshole and I heard him gasp and his hips moved. I dug my tongue in, feeling the soft muscles let me in. I used my hands to spread his cheeks and gently dug deeper. He tasted like soap and a little sweat and I could tell he was getting excited because there was a new musk, the smell of a guy who wants to cum, who wants to fuck – or be fucked. I started to thrust my hips into the bed, my cock getting even harder but I still held myself back. I wanted this to be for him.
I kissed my way back up until I could lie on top of him, my cock sliding between the cheeks of his ass, the head of my cock passing over his asshole very slowly. I was desperate to get in their, but I knew I had to wait. I kissed the back of his neck and whispered in his ear, “I love you so much. Thank you.”
He moaned in answer and then gently pushed me back and turned over as if he wanted to kiss me, but instead I ran my lips over his chest, and licked my way down until my mouth met the head of his cock, his not-too-long, but perfectly-sized dick. I licked the head, tasting his musky, slightly sweaty skin, pulling the head into my mouth and, like the best candy, sucked the end, using my tongue, fluttering it around the base of the helmet, on the cleft. I felt a little gush of precum and it was my turn to moan as I swallowed hungrily, fantasizing I was taking in my husband in the best possible way.
Then I opened my mouth wider and let him push himself deep, past my tongue, the head of his cock tickling the back of my throat. I managed not to gag and then pulled my head back, and did it again, and again, getting into a groove, fucking my mouth down on his cock. He ran his hands through my hair and caressed my forehead but at the same time lifted his hips up, pushing himself deeper. His sex-smell, his I want-to-fuck smell was growing stronger. But I knew I was going to be doing the fucking and I knew that he waned it.
I pulled my head off him. His cock was shiny with my spit and hard as iron, the head a deeper red. The blonde hair around it was damp from his sweat. I kissed the soft skin of his balls, licking them, massaging them, gently pulling them into my mouth and rolling them around, sliding my tongue all over the soft surface of his ball sac.
His body was exuding all this musky smell, the spicy smell of a guy in full rut. Ilya may be gentle, but he's also got a hungry, eager side and he just wants what he wants.
I shifted so I could jam my tongue in his navel, then with sloppy, wet kisses, traces the outlines of his chest with my mouth, suckling on his nipples, giving them little bites that made him swear in Russian as he grabbed my head and pushed my face closer to his chest, his breathing getting shallow. I felt his legs lift so his heels were resting on my ass, his cock pressing into my chest.
I sat up then, knowing we were ready. I took his cock in my fist and gave him a stroke, then I got my arms under his legs and pulled them up, his knees shifting apart, his ass revealed, along with his beautiful cock, his suckable balls.
I shifted forward so the head of my dick, that was all shiny and had a long drool of precum hanging from it, started to press into his asshole. I looked in my Ilya's eyes and our gazes met and I knew he wanted me, I knew he wanted me to be inside him as deeply as I could. He wanted me to fuck him with abandon and excitement. I hadn't seen that look before, so undiluted. I realized he felt entirely safe and that was almost the most exciting thing I had ever felt. I felt my cock and my balls twitch as if they had been electrocuted and I almost let go, but caught myself.
I said, “I want to fill you up with me, Ilya. I want this to be us, not just me...”
I wondered if I sounded like a bad romance novel, but it's what I felt. The words were true. He just nodded and pulled my face down and our lips felt like they were holding each other as my cock began to slide into him, slowly. I could feel a steady stream of precum flowing out from me to him, smoothing him so my cock slid easily until I felt my balls resting on his ass, the base of my cock meeting his body. He put his hands on my meaty butt, caressing those muscles that began to flex as I pulled back, then he pulled me into him again. It was as if he was doing the fucking, not me. He was dictating the way I would take him.
He almost whispered, “Stephen...”
But he didn't have to say anything else. There was a whole novel in my name and I knew it already. So I fucked him with more energy, the amplitude of my hips becoming wider, more intense. My whole body felt like a cock and my skin tingled. I both wanted this to last forever and wanted to cum so bad I was almost crying. The latter is where I went. In only a dozen or so more thrusts, I was there. I crested the wave and found myself airborne, breathless, almost unable to control my limbs, my skin on fire and my cock expanding, exploding and I could feel myself empty into him. I froze and shut my eyes, the pleasure almost too much to bear until I was suddenly gasping, my cock still exploding.
He pulled my face to his and we kissed kind of insanely. But then he pushed me so I fell back on the bed and he straddled my face and his cock plunged into my mouth. He started to fuck my face, hard. I wanted it. I wanted this reversal to be just as intense and when he held my head and fucked faster, a harsh sound coming from him, his dick now began to spew as his groin pressed into my face. I could feel the hair of his balls, and around his cock tickling my skin and nose as his sweet and sour cum filled my mouth in big, messy spurts, coating my tongue, sliding down my throat. He knew how much I loved his cum and it was as if he had been saving it up, because it just kept blasting out of the plump head of his cock that rested on he back of my tongue.
I swallowed and swallowed some more until the stream subsided, his cock relaxing. All I could taste was Ilya. All I could smell was the rich, animal smell of his body and balls that still rested on my chin. I ran my hands up and down his perfect ass, then slid a finger into him, feeling my own cum still oozing there.
He pulled his cock slowly out of my mouth. A long string of cum and spit and precum followed it that settled on my chin. He leaned down and licked it off and kissed me for the ten millionth time, then sat back, his firm ass on my stomach, his deflating cock curving over my chest. He looked down at me, then raised his head and looked around the empty room, a smiled slowly spreading over his face. “We need to buy a few things, I guess?”
I burst out laughing and ran my hands up his back. A long drool of cum was oozing out of his dick onto my chest. I collected it with a fingers and hungrily slurped it up. I said, “Yeah. And we need to light a fire. And buy groceries. And...a bunch of stuff. I've never owned a house before.”
He smirked and pulled himself off me. He walked around the room. The sight of his naked, beautiful body in contrast to the room with its wooden beams in the ceiling, its white walls in need of paint, was striking. The whole house needed some attention. We had work to do.
--
So yeah, we settled in. A year went by and once the logistics and paperwork were figured out, I resumed the last part of my undergraduate degree and applied to medical school in London. Ilya applied for and got a residency at one of the big hospitals in London.
During that time, I connected with Mark as often as I could. I still felt guilty for how it all went, but he seemed to be getting his head around the fact that I was on the other side of the ocean. With some badgering, we convinced him and Trevor to come over for Christmas for a week. Our house was in better shape – furnished and repainted and repaired and there was a nice cozy bedroom for them.
Autumn was busy for both Ilya and me and when December rolled around, it was almost a shock. December in southern England is often damp – if not extremely rainy – I was told, but it was turning out to be a lovely time. We had enough property for some nice walks through some forest and cultivated land that we rented to some local farmers who were completely unfussed that a couple of queers from Canada had moved in.
We met Mark and Trevor at Heathrow and after I held onto Mark for a while, almost crying I was so happy to see him, we got in our car and drove north. The drive was chatty and we all caught up on the news about each other.
Once we got to our house, showed them around, made us some lunch, we went for a walk through the fields to the forest at the end of our property. It was still and fragrant and magical and I could imagine that people had walked there a thousand years ago. It felt like nothing had changed. And it felt like nothing had changed between Mark and me as we strolled behind Trevor and Ilya who were clearly bonding, which made me happy.
After dinner, we sat in front of the enormous fireplace with whiskey and chocolate and talked for a while, but I could tell that Mark was exhausted from jet lag, so I sent them to bed. Ilya and I sat by the fire on the couch, my head in Ilya's lap, enjoying the quiet and the sound of the crackling fire, then basking in the glow of the embers as it died down.
--
The next morning, I got up early and started making pancakes – big surprise – for everyone. I was only wearing a pair of track pants since I assumed no on else would be up for ages, but as I stirred the batter, Trevor came into the kitchen looking bright and well rested. He was also wearing track pants and a well-worn t-shirt. What a handsome guy and I was reminded of the night we met him and how I could tell that Mark had been head over heels right away.
I said, “You want coffee?”
Trevor immediately said, “Love one. Let me.”
So he took over and found the coffee and got to work. I had forgotten how tall he was. I suddenly felt self-conscious and wanted to put a shirt on, but after a while I calmed down. I finished the pancake batter and put it in the fridge until the others got up and we went and sat in front of the fire which I had re-built. I sat staring into the flames and said, “You two doing all right? I mean after that whole thing with Sergei? That must have have been something.”
Trevor put his mug down and chuckled. “You could say that, I suppose. But more than anything it was really satisfying to reduce him to a big submissive bottom for the camera. Really fun.”
I thought a moment, feeling strangely turned-on. I hadn't seen the video and I didn't want to, but I found myself trying to imagine it. Kind of hot. I said, “You two found your aggressive side, I guess?”
He grinned and said, “Something like that. We're not really into that stuff but it was fun to try. Everything once, I say.”
I shifted on the sofa, aware that I could feel the heat from his body that was only a little distance away. I wanted to put my shirt on again. I looked at him, admiring his legs...fuck. I knew Ilya wouldn't mind me admiring him, or even fucking him, but I felt really self-conscious.
Trevor looked at me and smiled. He said, “Mark and I are such a team. I feel like we could do anything.” He stopped and looked at the fire, then said, “Remember that night...?”
I laughed a little nervously. “Yeah. I remember.” We looked at each other and before I could stop myself, I said, “And that big cock of yours...”
He slid a little closer to me so our arms were almost touched. He turned to me and in a softer voice said, “Yeah, and you have an awesome ass.”
I realized we were doing this. I leaned in and we kissed, his long arms going around me. I felt a little nervous since the other two could get up at any moment, but when Trevor pushed me backward and hauled my track pants down, and sucked my cock for a while, I forgot everything.
He sat up, his mouth all wet and pulled his own track pants off, his amazing, hefty cock springing out and I almost came right then. Ilya has a beautiful one, but the size of Trevor was something to behold. I instinctively spread my legs, but he pulled himself forward and fed me his cock, fucking my face gently. I instinctively got it all wet and lubed and then spat him out. I growled, “Just fuck me, Trevor. Don't hold back.”
He moved back and almost aggressively shoved his cock in me. I yelped but more from being startled than from pain. He began to thrust and heave and jam himself in. I closed my eyes and went along for the ride until I heard a voice. “Oh, I see. Can anyone join the party?”
I opened my eyes and there was Ilya. Grinning. For a second I wondered if he was actually angry or hurt, but then he pulled his pyjamas off and his cock was half-hard. He got himself on the sofa and straddled my face, sliding his nice Russian dick down my throat. I slapped my husband's ass and he moaned and dug into my throat that much deeper. I realized that my fears about Ilya were mostly not valid any more. He seemed to have found his sexual abandon and was prepared to use it.
But I felt Trevor pull out of me – which made me feel empty – and he said, “Lets go wake Mark up. He wouldn't want to miss this.”
So we went up the narrow dark stairs and found Mark sprawled on the bed, naked. I jumped on and kissed him and he woke, groggy and sleepy but he got it right away. He managed to say before Trevor fed him his big cock, “I was hoping this would happen...”
Ilya turned to me and said into my ear, “You're a dirty boy, Stephen. That's only one of the reasons I love you.”
But he pushed me back and without much ceremony, hiked up my legs and drove his cock into me. I was used to taking Ilya so it was comfortable and amazing as always. I turned and Mark was right beside me. We kissed and I remembered the first time I had kissed him, way back when I was discovering how into guys I really was, how into him I really was. Mark was my introduction to guy sex and I know I would always be grateful. Trevor had started to fuck him and he and Ilya fucked us, sometimes turning and kissing each other or us.
It was a little crazy, a little sloppy and a wonderful way to start the day. Ilya finally pulled his cock out of me and fed it to Mark and Trevor jammed his amazing tool down my throat and blasted what felt like a gallon of cum into me. I choked and swallowed just as Mark got up and jacked another load into my mouth, quickly followed by Ilya, who moved back and pumped a third wad of cum into my already overflowing mouth. I was in heaven. I swallowed and grinned and the four of us kissed and collapsed on the bed, sweaty and, after a while, hungry. I sat up and said, “Who wants pancakes?”
--
So yeah, Ilya and I settled in Heath and Reach and we were both doctors. I eventually had a private clinic working with kids in the village not far from our house and he was a psychiatrist at one of the big hospitals in the city. It was pretty sweet. After a couple of years, Trevor got a position at this brainy institute in Sweden that did all kinds of work on subatomic this, quantum that, but he also teaches at Oxford. Mark became a fucking heart surgeon, if you can believe it. It took him a bunch of years more training, but he did it. I was so proud of him. Those two. One solving problems of the universe, the other doing ridiculously complex surgery. It was intense but they managed it. They even, to my astonishment, adopted a kid.
They both spend lots of time at our place in Heath and Reach and sometimes in our bed. We have a nice close friendship that sometimes becomes quite sexual. And sometimes, just Mark and I fuck, or Trevor and I fuck or Trevor fucks Ilya...you get the picture. Not all the time. But sometimes.
Otherwise we two couples are pretty monogamous. Ilya and I once had an intense threeway with a colleague of his which was great, but we both agreed didn't quite feel right. It was one thing for us to get naked with Mark and Trevor, but quite another with someone who we, to be blunt, didn't entirely trust.
I know that Mark and Trevor have had lots of experience with other guys, but I think when they both got professionally settled, they also settled down, so to speak, with each other.
The best thing is when I get to suck a load out of all three of them. That's may favourite thing. It's like Christmas.
Josh and Sanjay, still in Vancouver, convinced a friend of Sanjay's to be the surrogate, and then co-parent - if you can believe it - three kids. Three of them. They're awesome fathers and their kids are impressive and sweet. They come to England at least once a year and we go to British Columbia just as often. You have to work to keep relationships going, especially when geography separates people.
And Sergei, as far as we can tell, disappeared back into Russia and his family. Ilya never heard from him again. We have no idea what happened to him and we were afraid to ask. But as each year passes, it's increasingly clear that Ilya doesn't need to worry.
One morning a few years after Trevor and Mark moved to London, Ilya and I were lying in bed one morning. He had just fucked me and his cock was still stewing in me, surrounded by his cum. He had just finished licked my cum off my chest and he said, “Do you know how grateful I am that you moved into that apartment?”
I shook my head, but I already felt tears coming. Then I managed to whisper, “No. How grateful.”
He kissed me, feeding me some of my cum and said, “You saved my life, Stephen. It's that simple.”
What could I say? I kissed him and he put his head on my chest and we just lay there, solid, and we were solid for all the time going forward.
To get in touch with the author, send them an email.
