Chapter Six -- For You, Always Johnny
His entire body was thrumming with delight. They were spooning, laying on one side and Johnny was moving in and out of his ass while nuzzling his neck slowly. Ruslan could barely believe it. First thing in the morning and they were like this. Johnny had great stamina and bottomless desire, as it seemed.
Ruslan could get used to this. Hell, he could get addicted to this. To this man, if he truly wanted to be precise. He moaned softly as that was the only way to signal his bed partner that he was very much awake and very much enjoying the ministrations.
The weirdest thing of all if he was to think about was that the passion, the usual craving consuming him, seemed subdued, almost no longer there. It had just turned into satisfying languor, and everything felt softer, gentler now.
He bucked his hips only slightly.
"Want me to pick up the pace?" Johnny asked, his voice a bit hoarse from sleeping. "Want a fresh load fed to you, pretty? Your ass is so hungry. Damn, so hungry for my cock," he whispered, making Ruslan tremble with desire.
So long, satisfying languor. He was waking up, and his body was already there, all his senses ready to be taken by this man who knew precisely the buttons to push to make Ruslan come undone.
"Yes, please," he whispered back.
Johnny said nothing but wrapped one strong arm over Ruslan's waist as the other dug into the plump flesh. Ruslan loved having his ass squeezed like that. Johnny intended to keep him in place.
Internally, he rejoiced. Was he finally going to feel how it was to be taken hard by this man?
"You know, it wouldn't sit well with your bad boy attitude if you only made sweet and gentle love to me," he snickered as Johnny continued fucking him slowly.
"Bad boy, huh? Funny, I thought I'd earned my place to be called a man."
"Hmm, yeah, but 'bad man' doesn't exactly sound right," Ruslan joked.
He was effortlessly turned on his belly, and this time, his bed partner seemed to get the cue. When Johnny pushed himself, all length and growing girth inside him, Ruslan gasped. The only lubrication he still had there was from the last times Johnny had come in his ass the previous night. He had come plenty. So Ruslan's ass was well enough lubricated for this.
"Oh, fuck," he murmured.
"You know, you might not like it," Johnny said. "I don't think you can come, just rubbing your dick against the bed."
"Let that be my worry, bad boy," Ruslan said over one shoulder.
Johnny pressed Ruslan's head down, into the pillows, firm, but not rough. Ruslan could feel the familiar excitement growing. It was not like him to come forward and admit it, at least not so plainly, not as honest as his body, how much he craved being used.
The bed was rattling now, but the short, sharp noises he made could almost cover that. Or they just created the effect of an orchestra, or better yet, a rough tune that sounded lewd and wanting. He had never had the guts to let himself broken, truly broken. It was something akin to a perversion, always to tread on edge, but with no express wish to walk over the line.
His ass was feeling it. Hell, he would feel this for days, especially since he was so sensitive. Even that idle thought was giving him satisfaction. Careless of his wellbeing, he pushed his ass up and back into Johnny's thrusting hips.
"You like this?" Johnny's voice was strained and touched by an ounce of doubt. "Want me to fuck you like a used street whore?"
Ruslan tensed. His throat tightened. It was almost like he couldn't breathe.
It's all in your head, it's all in your head ... The mantra kept repeating. But no matter what his mind was fighting to achieve, his automatic nervous system denied.
His body jerked uncontrollably. A strength he didn't possess pushed him up and almost sent Johnny flying out of bed.
"What the fuck?" Johnny exclaimed.
He was shaking now, the effect of the adrenaline release. Johnny grabbed him.
"Fuck, are you okay, man?"
He could hear the other's words as if his head was under water. Johnny turned his head and looked him in the eyes. And then, strong hands wrapped him in a tight embrace and kept him there, kept him warm, until the last tremble subsided.
It took him minutes to feel Johnny's rough fingers drawing slow circles on his shoulder blades. He could not remember a bed partner comforting him before. This was also new.
"Should I go get something?" Johnny asked. "Do you need the hospital?"
"No, don't worry." Ruslan fought to regain his composure while straightening up and slipping from the assuring embrace. "I just get this crazy ... My blood sugar drops."
"Sugar?" Johnny stared at him, shaking his head slightly as if an annoying winged bug was trying to get inside his ear. "Okay. Shouldn't you have medicine for this stuff?"
Ruslan wanted nothing but to run away from the inquisitive eyes. He stood his ground. "I'm fine," he said, forcing himself to smile.
Johnny's reciprocating smile was a tad crooked. He wasn't buying it, but it wasn't his business.
***
The pretty man had had quite the scare, Johnny watched Ruslan, as still slightly trembling fingers were grabbing the blanket which he had hurried to drape over his shoulders. But what could have scared him?
Ruslan had riled him up a little. Of course, that wasn't exactly a reason for him to take the bait. Ruslan could run his mouth all he wanted; he wasn't into rough play. Not even rough acting. A few words were enough to set him off like that.
Okay, so no one ever had dared to call the pretty man a used whore. Johnny was stupid to have used those words. That was what he was: stupid. Prissy princes were not particular about being called names. They liked the danger, being treated roughly a little, but that was all. Some had asked him in the past, point blank, to call them names. But the boot he had gotten the next day was telling him everything he needed to know about that.
Princes could not be treated like whores. Not even when they asked for it. No matter what they said. No matter how much they thought that they wanted that. And, case in hand, Ruslan hadn't asked for this fucked up shit.
Yeah, he should have known better. Johnny rubbed his forehead. "Do you want me to get the hell out?" He pointed with one thumb over his shoulder, to the door, hand curled into a tight fist.
