Page 54 of The Fire Beneath the Frost

He held still, tense.

But then—I felt it.A twitch in my mouth.A throb in my hand.

His cock hardened even more.

He wanted this.Dimitri nodded, a small, barely perceptible movement, but it was enough.I pressed my finger into him slowly, gently, feeling the tight heat of him.His breath hitched, and he let out a low moan, his hands finding their way to my shoulders, gripping tightly.

I worked him like that, with my mouth and my hand, feeling him relax and open up.The musk of his sweat and the taste of his skin, it was intoxicating.I added another finger, stretching him, preparing him.His hips began to move, tentative at first, then more insistently, fucking my mouth and my hand.

“More,” he rasped, voice hoarse and desperate.“I need more.”

I stood, my fingers still inside him, and kissed him deeply.He kissed back, eager and messy, our teeth clashing, our tongues tangling.I fumbled in my pockets for the tube of vaseline I swiped from Vera’s makeup bag.I opened it, slicking up my fingers before pushing a third finger inside Dimitri, feeling him stretch and open for me.

Dimitri cried out, his forehead hitting the wall, and his breath coming in short, sharp pants.I worked the vaseline onto my shaft, then removed my fingers and pressed the head of my cock against him.I pushed into him slowly, steadily, feeling him stretch and yield around me.His breath hitched, and I paused, giving him time to adjust.

“Give me more Petyr, I can take it.”

I slid my length in deeper until I was fully sheathed inside him.

We stayed like that for a moment, breathing together.Then I began to move.Slowly at first, then faster, harder.He met each thrust, his hips moving in sync with mine.Our skin was slick with sweat, our breaths ragged and desperate.

The room filled with our sounds—the slap of skin against skin, our moans and gasps.The world narrowed down to this—just him and me.

I felt the pressure building at the base of my cock, and I tried to hold back.

“C’mon, Petyr, I can take it.Slam it into me, give me everything you’ve got,” Dimitri growled.

I groaned, my restraint shattering.I gripped his hips tighter, my fingers digging into his flesh as I thrusted harder, deeper.The room echoed with the raw, primal sounds of our bodies colliding, our breaths mingling in ragged gasps.

Dimitri’s hands scrabbled for purchase on the wall, his nails scraping against the crumbling plaster.His head tilted back, exposing the taut line of his throat.I leaned in, kissing his neck as I pounded into him, our bodies slamming together with more force than I’d ever experienced.

His moans became cries, then his cries became screams, and I drank them all in, each sound fueling my desire.The pressure in my cock was overwhelming, the pleasure so intense it bordered on pain.I could feel every inch of him, every tremor, every pulse.

“Petyr...I’m...I’m close,” Dimitri panted, his body trembling against me.

I reached around him, wrapping my fist around his cock, stroking him in time with my thrusts.“Together,” I growled, my voice barely recognizable.“We come together.”

Dimitri turned his head and his eyes met mine, and in that moment, I saw everything—his love, his trust, his surrender.It was overwhelming, shattering, and I knew I was lost.Lost in him, lost in us.

With a final, desperate cry, Dimitri came, his cock pulsing in my hand, his seed spilling onto the floor.The sight of him, the feel of him, pushed me over the edge.I thrust into him one last time, my body shuddering as I found my release, filling him with every last drop of myself.

“Oh my God,” Dimitri groaned, then he said the words, words I had been too afraid to say out loud.

“I love you, Petyr.”

I froze, letting this bizarre feeling of happiness course through me.No one, aside from my mother, had ever said these words to me before.

“I love you too, Dimitri,” I sighed.“God help us both.”

ChapterSixteen

Dimitri

Iwoke up smiling.

It took me a moment to realize why.I’d been dreaming of Petyr again—his laugh, his fingers brushing mine in the dark.This time, we were alone in the blanket factory, but instead of oil-stained floors and roaring looms, there were lilacs blooming out of the machines and sunlight pouring through windows that didn’t exist in real life.He’d looked at me like he always did now, like I was something holy.

The dream dissolved slowly as I blinked at the ceiling.The smell of machine oil had been replaced by something better—eggs, maybe, and kasha.My stomach growled, and I stretched under the covers, letting the morning air nip at my bare chest.A few birds chirped outside the window.Spring had arrived in Leningrad like a drunk party guest—loud, unexpected, and determined to make up for lost time.Even the city’s usual grayness had taken on a softer hue.

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