Page 20 of Awariye
Igor's hot tongue lathered my balls as he gently slid my foreskin down, then with lubed fingers he stretched me open, scissoring me and curling upward to try and reach my prostate. I soared back to full hardness and knew I wanted him. "Please, fuck me. You can blow me after if I don't come. Can you go again?"
"I'm already hard," he breathed, then shook his head in disbelief. "It's been two years since I was with someone, and living at the lodge house, I bunk with other men and don't have much privacy."
That worked out. "Then fuck me, please, if you can."
Igor insisted on getting three fingers inside and really stretching me out first, then after a brief discussion of sexual history in which we surmised neither of us had likely contracted anything, he lubed himself up and began to press inside. Gripping the sheets, I took deep breaths and bore down, sliding my ankles to rest on either side of his neck after confirming it didn't hurt his shoulder.
Igor pushed his way in slowly, allowing me time to stretch and adjust to his hefty size. I was driven wild by how big he was and how much pleasure coursed through me when he slid in to the hilt and his cockhead pulsed right up against my prostate.
"Holy gods, Igor," I panted, about to pass out from all the stimulation.
"If it's too much I will pull back out," he promised, his tone filled with concern.
"Nein," I protested, shaking my head. "Fuck me, I need this. I've been dreaming about this. I want you."
That did the trick. At my urging, he gripped my hips, spreading my ass cheeks with his thumbs, then pulling out and pushing back in to my squeaks and moans. He proceeded to cut a brutal pace, fucking me relentlessly as my gasps spurred him on. Frantic, I fisted my cock and pumped hard, my whole body sizzling with heat and sprinting to the edge. I clenched down on him, and Igor swore to the ceiling, pumping into my ass at full strength, pistoning till his balls slapped against my cheeks.
"Komm, Awariye," he urged, his voice guttural. "Come first, I want to feel it."
My body tightened like a spring as I pumped harder, faster, then finally flung myself off the edge and came. I groaned and spilled all over my chest, shooting as Igor pounded my ass a few more times before he froze, and I felt his hot cum filling me up.
He withdrew carefully, and the pinch of pain made my orgasm stretch a little longer and my cock jump, a confusing malaise of contradictory sensations.
Then Igor crawled over me and into my embrace. I wrapped around him, hooking my arms across his back and my legs over his hips. He kissed me languidly as we came down, long luxurious moments of feeling totally satiated and lazily enjoying each other.
"I want to be your boyfriend," I whispered against his lips when he pulled back for breath.
I didn't want this to be a fling, something we enjoyed but then forgot about when I left come springtime.
Igor touched his forehead to mine. "I'm your lover now, aren't I?"
That thrilled me. I grinned at him. "You are. And I'm yours."
CHAPTERTWELVE
AWARIYE
Idozed in his arms, passing out for a bit, rousing when I heard Igor's voice rumbling softly.
"How did you get like this, bard?" he asked. "I thought I'd lose you, that I'd hold you through the night and wake up one morning and your spirit would be gone."
Breathing deeply and drawing on my strength, I pulled myself back out of dreamland. I groaned and Igor yipped and jumpstarted, then returned to holding me and smoothing his thumb soothingly over my arm. He might have thought I was sleeping more deeply, but still, I wanted to answer.
I cleared my throat and deliberated on my words yet found them close to the surface. Going through a health scare sure could put things into perspective.
"I grew up in a traveling theater group. We sang and danced for the joy and delight of others. Although I cannot remember my parents' faces, I remember them being happy and dancing and singing with me when I was very young. That's very different from poor Wren, who has no knowledge of his family whatsoever, and might have been sold into slavery had Ingeborg not found him wandering the streets and adopted him. Though my parents and our traveling group are gone now, at least I know I was loved."
Igor leaned in and kissed my forehead, speaking softly, his voice filled with emotion. "That is true for me too. My village is gone now, and we were not perfect, but at least I know that I was loved."
"Oh, Igor, I'm so sorry." My heart broke at hearing this. I flattened my palm on his chest in sympathy, giving him room to say more, but he didn't take it.
"That is how you came to fight for the king?" I asked, hoping my curiosity wasn't going too far into such painful memories.
He nodded. "Several of the other boys and I got captured and sold, in my case to a band of mercenaries who screamed and ran like cowards when Ulbrecht and Sören tracked them down. Thankfully Ulbrecht saw my situation and believed my story, then took me in."
We shared a smile.
"What happened to your theater group?" he asked, then said immediately, "You don't have to answer if you don't want to."