“Are you going to fuck me or not?” Sebastian said, his voice strained. “If you aren’t, I’ll go get another man to do it. Someone who knows what he’s doing.”
Over his dead body.
Vlad grabbed the condom and packet of lube from Sebastian’s hand. “For the record,” he said, hissing a little as he rolled the condom on and slicked up his aching cock. “This doesn’t make me a faggot.”
“Of course not,” Sebastian said as Vlad smeared the rest of the lube on his hole. “You’re the definition of straight. Straighter than straight—ngh—” His words turned into a quiet moan as Vlad pushed inside him.
“Wait,” Sebastian said, panting heavily. “Gimme a sec.”
Vlad wasn’t certain he could. He gritted his teeth at the tightness around his cock, his vision swimming with want. He buried his face against Sebastian’s sweaty nape, mouthing the skin there, desperate to move, to fuck. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so desperate to fuck someone, get his cock inside them, and fuck, fuck, and fuck.
“Come on,” Sebastian said finally, relaxing. “Move.”
Thank fuck.
Vlad pulled back and then pushed in, fingers gripping the soft flesh of Sebastian’s ass.
“Oh,” Sebastian breathed, leaning his forehead against the door and pushing his ass back onto Vlad’s cock. God, the way he looked...Sheer black shirt ending just above his flawless ass, black jeans pulled down his muscular, shapely thighs, long, endless legs...Fuck.
Vlad had to fuck him. He just had to. So he did, grunting as he thrust into the perfect tightness—perfect tightness of a man’s ass, fucking hell—biting and kissing Sebastian’s neck, fingers leaving bruises on his fair skin.
Neither of them were particularly quiet, groaning and grunting as Vlad pounded into Sebastian, their moans becoming obscenely loud—
It took Vlad several moments to realize the banging he could hear was coming from the outside: someone was banging on the door, wanting to use the loo.
He went rigid, cock still inside Sebastian. Shit. Someone was just on the other side of the door while he had his cock in another man. Shit.
“Don’t you dare stop,” Sebastian rasped, sounding completely fucked out. “Please—please, don’t stop. So good.”
Vlad’s hips moved out of their own volition, his cock pistoning in and out of Sebastian’s hole as someone demanded to be let inside the restroom. It was wrong, sick, perverted, but he couldn’t stop, could do nothing but want and take. He barely registered Sebastian stroking his own cock desperately, whines slipping out of his mouth as Vlad thrust harder inside him. “Yeah, there—come on—harder,” he croaked out, and Vlad fucked him harder, rotating his hips a little, feeling like he’d die if he had to stop.
“Harder,” Sebastian demanded, whining.
God, he was fucking insatiable, born to take a cock.
Vlad gritted his teeth, fucking Sebastian at a brutal pace now, like an animal fucking a bitch in heat. Finally, Sebastian cried out and went boneless against the door. He came, Vlad realized dazedly. He’d made another man come on his cock.
“Fucking perverts, get a bloody room,” yelled the man on the other side of the door. “Faggots!”
His body shuddered with perverse arousal and Vlad found himself coming, too, groaning quietly.
It took him several long minutes to regain brain function.
The first thing he registered was music. A club. They were in the club. And he just had sex with a man.
Vlad opened his eyes. His mouth was still on Sebastian’s nape.
He stepped back slowly, looking at the red bite marks on Sebastian’s neck.
He pulled the condom off, tied it, and threw it into a trash bin. Turning his back to Sebastian, he did his fly, his fingers slow and clumsy. He could hear movement behind him, a grunt, a rustle of clothes.
His body rigid, Vlad waited for the other man to say something mocking. He tried to think of his answers. I’m not a homo. This was a mistake. This is your fault. I’m not gay. I’m a normal, heterosexual man.
But Sebastian said nothing. The next thing Vlad heard was the sound of the door opening and closing.
When he turned around, Sebastian was gone.
Chapter 10
Sebastian closed the door of his bedroom and slowly walked to his bed. Flopping down on it, he looked at his fancy Saint Laurent boots but felt like a stupid, delusional sixteen-year-old again.
When he was sixteen, he’d had a huge crush on the captain of the school’s football team, Mike Fletcher. God, it was such a cliché: the weird, geeky resident faggot (and they never cared when Sebastian said he was bi) pining over the most popular boy in school, who was straight as an arrow as far everyone was concerned. Mike Fletcher hadn’t been straight as an arrow—at least he was gay enough to allow Sebastian suck him off when he wasn’t calling him a faggot in school corridors. Mike had never reciprocated, never touched him, because, according to him, he wasn’t queer. Mike had never even kissed him, but Sebastian’s sixteen-year-old self was naive and delusional enough to think Mike was just in denial about his feelings—that he wouldn’t let Sebastian suck his cock if he didn’t have genuine feelings for him. It was much later that Sebastian had realized what he and Mike had wasn’t even sex; it was a slavish, one-sided devotion. When Sebastian told Mike that he was in love with him and wanted more from their relationship, Mike laughed at his face and said,