Page 6 of Ascendent
Sasha still wouldn’t look at him. He still stared at the floor, his shoulders curled like he was about to fall forward. “I amhuisos,” he whispered. He used the slang word for cock sucker, the slur thrown at a man to shred his masculinity. In Russia, there was nothing worse than being ahuisos, nothing worse than being a man who sucked another man’s cock, or took another man’s cock. A man like that, Russia said, was not really a man.
All Sergey’s life, everywhere he’d been, he’d heard the same insults and degradations. He thought he’d been—foolishly—immune to them, to their pain. He wasn’t one of those men. He could brush off the hate since it wasn’t targeted at him.
What a fucking fool he’d been. Every insult he’d ever heard, every word he’d ever ignored, was carved indelibly into Sasha’s soul.
And the agony from realizing that was enough to crush his heart.
Sergey cupped Sasha’s cheeks and ducked down until he captured his gaze, forced Sasha to stare back. “You are Sasha Andreyev,” he growled. “A Hero of Russia. The man Ilove.”
Sasha shuddered, his entire body flinching like he’d been shot.
“Tell me what you want. I swear to you, it’s not disgusting.Youare not disgusting.” He smoothed back Sasha’s hair, pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Do you hear me?”
Sasha jerked, tried to turn away, but Sergey held him, forced him to keep their gazes fixed, their stares joined. He saw every emotion parade through Sasha’s eyes: anguish, terror, rage, self-hatred, disbelief. Sorrow. Agony.
“I want…” Sasha struggled, fighting his own voice. “I want to suck you off,” he breathed. He squeezed his eyes closed. “Iloveit,” he whispered, his voice shaking, his words breaking.
Sergey dragged him into his arms, holding Sasha as Sasha crumpled, clinging to him like he was about to fall to pieces. Sasha had patched over the holes in his soul with the worst of every insult he’d ever heard. Had he ever spoken those words aloud? Had he ever acknowledged his desires to himself? Maybe Sergey had pushed too hard.Govno, he had no idea how entrenched Sasha’s self-hatred truly was, how deeply the fractures in his soul went. His hate had twisted around and around until he despised his own desires, couldn’t even name what he craved.
Sergey would spend the rest of his days shooting down Sasha’s fears, wrenching apart the lies he’d been told. Banishing the slurs, the terror, from his mind.
He backed them both up until his legs hit the bed. Sergey sank down and brought Sasha with him, facing each other on their sides, their foreheads touching, noses together, lips brushing. Sasha’s eyes were still closed. Sergey laced their hands together.
“This is when everything changes. This is when the way you look at me changes. When you realize I’m disgusting. When your eyes fill with loathing.”
There was a story there, hidden in those words. Something from Sasha’s past. Something that had taught him this lesson. When he was a child? Or after? When he was in the Air Force? Dark stories of abuse followed the Russian military. How had Sasha learned this near-frantic isolation, this protectionism that shoved the world as far from him as it could go? All the way to outer space, even?
Sergey was afraid to learn the truth. He wasn’t strong enough to survive learning Sasha’s past. The realization settled deep in his sour stomach. Sasha was so, so much stronger than he ever could be.
“No. My eyes will only ever hold love for you,zvezda moya. Andpride. You are my hero,Sashunya.” Sasha’s breath hitched at the diminutive, the most intimate, tender form of his name on Sergey’s lips. “You always will be my hero.” He nosed Sasha’s cheek, willing him to open his eyes.
Sasha gripped Sergey’s hands, squeezing until their fingers went white, their knuckles painfully pressed together. His eyes slipped open, loosing a trail of tears over his cheeks and across his nose. Scorching drops landed on Sergey’s skin.
He stared into Sasha’s gaze, pouring every moment of every yearn he’d ever had for Sasha into his eyes. Every ounce of longing, all the nights he’d tossed and turned, wishing for Sasha to be back at his side. All the dreams he’d had of them together. Every moment he’d closed his eyes and saw Sasha’s smile burned into the backs of his eyelids. He wanted Sasha to see all the way to his heart, all the way to the center, where the essence of Sasha hung, suspended like a dream in eternal amber. The sound of his throaty laugh, the light in his eyes. Everything that was Sasha—the strength, the soul, the passion—everything about the man he loved, living in the center of his heart.
Sasha stared back, not breathing.
And then he sighed, exhaling like he was releasing something that couldn’t be named, something that had lived inside him for too many years. Something dark. Something that made Sergey’s skin crawl and his spine shudder. He ran his hand through Sasha’s hair again, wiping his cheeks with his thumb.
Sasha kissed his wrist. His lips traveled over Sergey’s skin, mapped up his arms, across his collarbone, up his neck. He dropped a lingering kiss to Sergey’s lips as Sergey rolled to his back and wrapped his arms around Sasha’s neck. They stayed like that for minutes, maybe hours, kissing softly while Sergey’s hands tangled in Sasha’s hair, stroked down his neck and over his shoulders. Beneath his touch, Sasha shook, tremors that quaked his body.
And then, Sasha started to move.
Kisses down his chest, over his traitorous strands of gray. Teases to both nipples before he kept moving,down. Sasha’s nose pressed into his skin over his belly button as he kissed each hip. As he snaked his tongue into Sergey’s naval. Sasha’s hands worked open his belt, his pants. Pushed them down.
Sergey kicked them free and spread his legs. His cock rose, hardening again as Sasha gazed at him.
Sasha looked up. A final, piercing look, a question in his eyes.Will you still love me if I do this? Won’t I be disgusting in your eyes?
He hated, for a moment, their country. Russia had programmed this terror into Sasha’s soul. Russia had fed, ruthlessly, this self-hate until Sasha couldn’t even trust their love.
“Sashunya, Iloveyou.”
Sasha looked away, nuzzling Sergey’s thigh. Goosebumps rose, every sparse strand of hair on his legs standing straight up as Sasha’s lips brushed his skin. Sasha’s breath tickled his hip, the fold of skin joining his thigh and his crotch. Tickled the curls between his legs.
Take what you want. Take what you desire. I’m yours, I’m all yours. Always.
And then—
