Under the Skin (5 page)

Stepping close to reach around the Russian, Patrick started to hang up his jacket and holster when a far too familiar scent assailed his senses. Alexei smelled like sex… before they’d even started. The realization sent him reeling. He took a step back, then another. “What do you take me for?” he hissed, betrayal killing his arousal as quickly as any cold shower. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice? Or did you think I was so desperate I wouldn’t care? Is that why you were late? You were out fucking someone else?”

Biting back a curse, Alexei shook his head. He had known coming here was a mistake, known Flaherty couldn’t help but discern what he had done. What Konstantin had ordered him to do, but that excuse held no weight, even to himself. “You know what I am,” he replied harshly. “I follow orders. Sometimes those orders are for things… not so pleasant.” Perhaps he had hoped to provoke this very confrontation—of course Flaherty would be disgusted when he realized what Alexei truly was. He had no right to expect anything more. Reaching back for his coat, he shrugged. “We have both known from the start this was unwise.”

Enraged, Patrick pounced, not even considering how Boczar would react. He pinned the older man against the door. “Hell, no,” he spat angrily. He knew what Alexei was—he hated what Alexei was—but he had accepted it. He just hadn’t expected the Russian to rub his face in it quite so blatantly. Not this way, at least. And yet, he refused to let this… fucked-up whatever-it-was between them end like this. “You don’t get to give me some lame excuse and walk away. You came here tonight. You could have called to postpone. You could have simply not shown up. But you came. Why, Alexei? Why put us both through this?”

Why indeed?
The surge of lust that flooded Alexei, more intoxicating than all the vodka he’d drunk, was one answer, and he pushed up against Flaherty’s body, letting him feel his arousal through the contact. “This is why,” he insisted, his hands grasping the younger man’s ass and grinding them together, knowing a thrill of power at the answering response. “What other reason do either of us need?”

Patrick couldn’t stop his body’s reaction, couldn’t keep his hips from arching into the other man’s or his cock from jumping at the thought of removing the clothes between them, but that only made him angrier. “You already got ‘
this
’ tonight,” he pointed out furiously. “You didn’t need me to get off then. Why do you need me now?”

“Wasn’t what I wanted,” Alexei grated, his eyes closing as he spread his legs to pull Patrick between them, rubbing their swelling cocks together. His lips found the side of his lover’s throat, tasting the sweat and anger on his skin. Raking his hand into Patrick’s hair when he tried to pull away, Alexei grazed his teeth up the straining tendons of the younger man’s neck. “Wasn’t this,” he admitted, before his lips closed over Patrick’s with a groan. “Wasn’t you.”

Patrick wanted to fight, wanted to hold on to his anger, but the admission—the most Alexei had ever said—stole his fury and melted his heart. If they weren’t the words of love he dared not hope to hear, they were at least an acknowledgment that what they shared, however twisted, meant more than the anonymous fucks they pretended to want. His moan of pleasure blended with his lover’s, and he returned the kiss fervently, lips and teeth clashing as he strove to expunge his emotions through their passion. They rarely kissed while they were having sex, the touching of lips somehow too intimate for the callousness of their bodies’ actions, but tonight it seemed fitting.

Alexei could feel it the instant Patrick stopped fighting him. The young detective’s acquiescence might be only a reflection of how long it had been since their last fuck, but it went to Alexei’s head faster than all the shots he had taken with Konstantin. Leaning back against the door for stability, he held Patrick’s head still with one hand, feasting on the clean taste of his mouth as he worked open the buttons of his lover’s shirt. He needed to feel smooth muscles beneath his palm, needed the strength of another man—of Patrick—straining against his body as they struggled for more contact.

Eagerly, Patrick returned his lover’s caresses, his heart racing as Alexei took more, accepted more, than he ever had before. Reaching for the Russian’s belt, he worked it open, intent on finding his prize as quickly as possible. It had been too long and the previous moments too fraught for him to have anything like patience remaining. He slid a hand beneath the mobster’s waistband even as he fought with the zipper on his slacks. “Need you….” He pulled back from the kiss to take a gulp of air.

Biting back the urge to follow Patrick’s lips, Alexei moved instead down the long throat, lingering for a moment on the links of the gold chain that always circled the detective’s neck, and over the planes of his lover’s chest, pushing the shirt aside as he went. Pulling down the scooped neck of Patrick’s undershirt, he rubbed his thumb over a brown nipple until it stiffened, closing his teeth around it with a muffled moan. The hand that had been buried in Patrick’s hair slid down his back to cup his ass, catching the younger man’s hand between them as he pressed him closer, his hips rocking into the contact.

Patrick moaned in delight at the friction against his aching cock. If Alexei followed their usual routine, it would take only seconds longer before he found himself pinned to the wall, his lover’s cock spearing him delightfully. Finally defeating the zipper, he pushed Alexei’s trousers down to the tops of his thighs, stroking the hard muscles encouragingly, longing to be filled as only this man could do. He didn’t pause to marvel at the unusual attention his lover was paying to the rest of his body. He was too desperate to feel Alexei inside him again.

Impatient for more of the firm body beneath his mouth, Alexei yanked the shirt over Patrick’s head, baring his torso to his lips and teeth. His mouth mapping every centimeter of unmarked skin, he unfastened the jeans and belt, sliding them to the floor. He was tempted to follow the trail of dark hair lower, to wipe the bitter taste from his mouth with the saltiness of his lover’s flesh, but he could not kneel for any man, even this one. Instead, he rose and crushed Patrick’s mouth to his, working a leg between Patrick’s to mold their bodies together, their cocks surging at the contact of skin against skin.

Patrick’s hands slid around to cup Alexei’s ass, rocking into the heated friction. “What are you waiting for?” he taunted, his control stretching thin. He didn’t want to come this way and it would be so easy. “Fuck me already.”

“
Chyort
,” Alexei spat, damning the circumstances that had left him unprepared. Carrying condoms wouldn’t have made Konstantin suspicious, but being discovered with lube in his pocket would have raised questions he couldn’t risk. “I have no supplies,” he rasped, even as his hips continued to rut against Patrick’s.

“In… my pocket,” Patrick husked, trying unsuccessfully to pull away long enough to reach them. When Alexei didn’t immediately release him, he pinched one firm buttock playfully. “Let me get them. I want you inside me.”

Alexei’s eyes narrowed at the liberty, but he let Patrick go, stripping off the rest of his clothes and setting aside the sheathed knife he wore strapped around his ankle as he watched the younger man bend over to reach into the pocket of his trousers. When Patrick was nearly bent in two, Alexei tweaked at a pale cheek in turn, leaning back to lounge against the door at his lover’s shocked reaction.

Retrieving the tube and foil packet from his jeans and summoning a mock glare at Alexei’s playful gesture, Patrick handed them to Alexei and turned to the narrow cot, kneeling on it and glancing back over his shoulder provocatively. He didn’t completely understand what had changed suddenly, but he didn’t want to do anything to stop it.

Patrick’s invitation was one Alexei had never been able to resist, but tonight the posture sent a roil of guilt eating at his gut. “Not like that,” he muttered hoarsely, pushing at the younger man’s shoulder to urge him onto his back on the thin mattress. Lowering himself between Patrick’s legs, he braced his hands on either side of his lover’s head, looking down at the expressive features and dark hair spread across the musty-smelling sheet.

Patrick stared up into the blue-gray eyes that haunted his dreams, the novelty of their new position almost as overwhelming as its intimacy. He knew the feeling of Alexei’s weight against his body, but never before like this, face to face, chest to chest. Always before, Alexei had insisted on the pretense of an anonymous fuck, regardless of reality, but there was no dissimulation in the older man’s gaze now. “Not that I’m complaining,” he said, stroking one sculpted cheek, “but why?”

“
Prosti
,” Alexei murmured, dropping his head to Patrick’s chest, kissing the hollow of his throat, just above where the cross nestled against his skin. “
Prosti
,” he repeated against the warm skin, offering his apology to both he had wronged, though only one of them could hear him.

Patrick didn’t know enough Russian to understand the word Alexei whispered, but he heard the regret in his lover’s voice. Accepting that this was a peace offering, he wrapped his arms around the other man’s shoulders and rocked up against him, hoping to entice him to finish what they had started. He thought briefly about saying something, about accepting the apology in some way, but in the end, he held his tongue. The situation was still too uncertain for him to have any confidence in Alexei’s reaction, and the last thing he wanted to do was drive his lover away. Not now.

Alexei’s eyes closed for a moment when Patrick’s arms surrounded him, signaling that here, at least, he had been forgiven. Running a gentle hand through his partner’s tousled hair, he sat back on his heels, reaching for the lube and coating his fingers with the slick gel. Their preparation was usually cursory at best, but tonight he took his time, his eyes fixed on Patrick’s face, drinking in each gasp and moan as his fingers stretched and probed, the act itself a gift of pleasure rather than merely means to an end.

Patrick writhed beneath the slow, careful preparation, so different from the usual thrust and twist of Alexei’s fingers followed quickly—sometimes too quickly—by his cock. Tonight, there was no rush. He knew Alexei wanted him as badly as ever—the cock pulsing against his thigh was proof of that—but his lover lingered over the preliminaries, surrounding Patrick in a cocoon of warmth and passion that far overshadowed anything he had ever felt with the other man. For once, and he did not delude himself that this tenderness would spill over to their next encounter, but this once, he felt like Alexei’s lover, not his plaything. Leaning into the touch of the callused palm in his hair, he turned his head and kissed a tattooed wrist. “Lyosha,” he murmured, the diminutive slipping out far sooner than it ever had before.

An ink-stained finger traced Patrick’s cheek as Alexei moved forward, lifting his lover’s hips and aligning himself with the welcoming portal. “
Malysh
,” he said softly, Patrick’s legs wrapping around him as he slid in slowly. He watched the brown eyes widen as the channel stretched to accept him, enveloping him in warmth. Moving carefully, he cradled Patrick’s hips to lift him closer until he was buried deep, deeper than he had ever allowed himself to delve.

The tenderness inherent in Alexei’s caress moved Patrick powerfully, rocking him back on his heels as he tried to assimilate this new lover with the man he knew. Then he felt the Russian’s erection nudging his entrance, and all other thought fled as he relaxed his muscles and let himself be taken. Despite the careful preparation, the first penetration burned a little. He gasped as he was stretched differently, more fully, than Alexei had ever done before, their bodies mating now in a way their pretense had not allowed earlier. He tightened his legs around the other man’s waist, pulling him closer, keeping him buried deep, as he pushed up to meet every downward thrust.

Alexei tensed, biting his lip against the hot surge of sensation that urged him to thrust powerfully until they both found their release.
Not this time. Not again.
Just this once he would let himself take things slowly, let himself watch the emotion on his lover’s face as he stirred inside him, let the feelings he could not give name to, even to himself, wash him clean of guilt and regret.

Though the lustful tension continued to build inside him, Patrick felt himself sinking into the bed, relaxing into the sensation of having Alexei inside him, above him, surrounding him. As the other man lowered his head and mated their lips, the delicious friction on his cock increased, caught as it was between their slowly shifting bellies. Inside him, Alexei’s cock rubbed repeatedly, constantly over his prostate, adding to the passion building within him. And yet, it remained at bay, held in check by the wealth of emotion in Alexei’s eyes, the gentleness with which he claimed Patrick’s mouth.

The slow welling of pleasure built so gradually that Alexei was nearly taken by surprise when he felt the tightening in his groin that told him he was close to climax. Sliding a hand between them to clasp Patrick’s shaft, he stroked it with the same long, slow movements, his tongue surging and retreating against Patrick’s in the same rhythm, joining every part of their bodies in the sensuous dance. Only when the hot splash of his lover’s release wet their bellies did he let himself go, his long, low groan swallowed by Patrick’s mouth.

His cry muffled by Alexei’s lips, Patrick shuddered through the aftershocks of his release, his seed slick on Alexei’s hand and their stomachs as his lover continued to stir inside him. His hands tightened on Alexei’s shoulders, urging him on, urging him to share the same joy overtaking them. To his delight and relief, Alexei’s weight settled fully onto him, pressing him heavily into the lumpy mattress. Patrick barely noticed, too intent on searching the other man’s eyes, seeking some confirmation that his lover had felt the import of this moment as well.

Drained by his second orgasm in as many hours, Alexei slumped heavily against Patrick, letting his heartbeat and breathing slow. When he felt in control again, he rolled to his side, sliding from Patrick’s body but carrying his lover with him so that the younger man nestled against his chest. Content for the moment to simply lie quietly, he stared over his lover’s head out the filthy, cracked window, letting his thoughts wander in directions he could not afford to follow.