"Borya…please," Aubrey whimpered, wrists pinned above his head against the leather seat, his body arching as Borya's hand moved in devastating strokes.
"You don't get to cum until I say so," Borya growled against his ear, voice dark and heavy with possessive hunger.
The car swerved slightly as it turned a corner, and Aubrey bit back a loud moan, kicking out weakly with one leg. "This is torture…"
Borya pulled back enough to catch his eyes in the rearview mirror, the intensity in his gaze making Aubrey's breath hitch. "You provoked me. You danced like a slut in front of everyone. You wanted my attention, little fox? You got it."
Aubrey thrashed beneath him, hips lifting, begging silently, but Borya only chuckled low in his throat. "Look at you. Desperate. Wet. All mine."
He dragged his tongue down the curve of Aubrey's neck and bit down hard, marking him. Aubrey cried out, the pain deliciously sweet, the pleasure rolling over him in cruel, teasing waves.
The driver kept his eyes on the road, the partition up, pretending he couldn't hear a thing.
Aubrey's body trembled under Borya's grip. "You're a monster."
"No," Borya smirked, his fingers never slowing. "I'm your monster."
The moment the car stopped beneath the towering steel and glass penthouse building, Borya zipped up his pants, adjusted his shirt, and leaned in to whisper, "Try not to cum walking. We're not done."
He opened the door on his side and climbed out first,then grabbed Aubrey,yanking him out by the wrist. Aubrey stumbled out, legs shaky, erection straining against the fabric of his pants.
Borya didn't wait. He dragged him through the private elevator, swiped a keycard, and pressed the top button. The silence inside buzzed with tension. Aubrey leaned against the mirrored wall, panting, cheeks flushed,His cock twitching and leaking with pre cum.
He locked eyes with Borya in the reflection. "You're insane."
Borya stepped behind him, pressing his body flush. "And you're mine."
The elevator doors dinged open. Borya pushed him forward into the penthouse…an elegant, sprawling space with glass walls, marble floors, and a fireplace already burning low.
He shoved Aubrey onto the massive bed without ceremony.
"Strip."
Aubrey hesitated, pupils blown wide.
"Now, malen'kiy lis. Or I'll rip it all off myself."
Aubrey sat up, fingers fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. His movements were slow, teasing. Deliberate.
"Still trying to tempt me, hmm?"
He slid off his shirt, revealing pale skin flushed with heat, his chest rising and falling with each shallow breath. Pants dropped next, pooling at his ankles.
Borya undressed with none of the grace..tearing buttons, tossing his jacket, exposing his sculpted torso, inked with faint scars and power. His long blond hair tumbled free, wild and regal.
He crawled onto the bed like a beast stalking prey.
"On your knees."
Aubrey obeyed, kneeling in the center of the bed.
Borya gripped his chin. "Eyes on me."
Their mouths crashed together again, hungrier than before. Tongues tangled, lips bruised. Borya's hands roamed his waist, his hips, then gripped his ass with possessive heat.
Without warning, Borya pinned him down, flipped him over, and growled, "I warned you. Now you'll learn."
What followed was ruthless. Fast. Merciless.
The bed creaked, the air thick with sweat and sounds of skin on skin. Aubrey clawed at the sheets, sobbing through the pleasure, babbling half-curses and desperate gasps.
"Please…please…Borya…"
"Louder," Borya hissed, pounding into him.
"Fuck! I can't…!"
"Yes you can. Take it. All of it. Every inch."
Borya's hand wrapped around Aubrey's throat, not squeezing, just grounding him,the other wrapped around Aubrey's cock,moving fast with a friction that made his little body convulse..
"You're mine. You understand me now? The moment I took you in my car, you stopped being anyone else's."
Aubrey was crying now. From too much. Not enough. Overwhelmed.
"Mine to fuck. Mine to break. Mine to rebuild."
Aubrey's scream tore from his chest as he came, finally, shaking apart under Borya's relentless rhythm.
Borya wasn't done.
He chased his own release with violent thrusts, hips slamming into Aubrey's over and over until he shuddered and came with a deep groan, spilling into him, claiming him.
Silence fell.
Aubrey collapsed face-first into the sheets, boneless. Borya stayed draped over his back, forehead pressed to his shoulder, panting.
"That's round one."
Aubrey groaned. "You're going to kill me."
Borya smirked against his skin. "Not until I make you beg for more."
Aubrey woke to the sting of sore muscles and a dull ache in his thighs that pulsed with every breath. The bedsheets were cool against his skin, rumpled and smelling like sweat, sex, and the heavy scent of Borya's cologne…rich cedar, burnt amber, and something darker.
For a moment, his mind was fog. He blinked up at the ceiling, heart still thudding from the dream…or memory…of the night before. Of Borya's voice snarling possessively into his ear. Of fingers digging into his hips. Of the shameful way he'd cried, shaking apart under the man who was supposed to be his target.
Then…
Bzzz... bzzz... bzzz...
The vibration jolted him. Aubrey winced, groaning as he shifted. Every muscle screamed in protest. His legs trembled just from rolling to the side. Jesus, he thought, dragging himself half-upright, reaching for where his pants were half-draped over the foot of the bed.
"Fuck," he hissed, finally yanking the phone from the pocket and answering it with a breathless, "Hello?"
"Aubrey."
His spine stiffened.
"…Father."
Nathaniel Langford's voice was cold and biting, and even through the line, it carried the weight of fury wrapped in calm.
"What the hell is going on with you? I told you this was time-sensitive…do you know what happened last night?"
Aubrey swallowed hard. "I've been working. Gaining trust."
"You've been playing," the Chief snapped. "Raines is at the hospital. His daughter was attacked. Do you think that's a coincidence? Do you think this is a game now?"
Aubrey's fingers clenched around the phone.
"No, sir."
"Then act like it. I don't care how charming Morozov is. I don't care how many people he's killed, how many you think he'll protect you from if things go south. We will bring him down. So whatever you're doing, whatever trick you're using to keep his attention on you…speed it up."
A pause.
"Understood?" the voice thundered.
Aubrey stared ahead blankly, voice low. "Yes, sir."
The call ended with a sharp click.
He dropped the phone onto the bed and leaned forward, running both hands through his tousled hair. His entire body screamed from the night before. Borya hadn't just taken him…he'd claimed him. Branded every inch of him in ways no one else ever had.
He's the enemy, Aubrey reminded himself, trying to shut down the flicker of something tender in his chest. He's just another assignment.
But that didn't explain the ghost ache between his legs.
Or the fact that he missed the weight of Borya's body already.
He stood, shaky on his feet, tugging Borya's oversized shirt off the floor and slipping it on. It drowned him, the hem brushing mid-thigh. His bare legs felt obscene walking across the chilly wood floors, and the scent of Borya on the collar made his knees a little weaker.
He stepped out into the hallway.
Silence.
The penthouse was open, minimalistic. Black, white, slate grey. Expensive but impersonal, like someone had built it for display rather than living. No photos. No family heirlooms. No clutter. It made Aubrey feel like a stain just standing there.
He padded quietly down the stairs, tugging the shirt closed over his chest. His eyes widened when he spotted him.
Borya.
Standing by the kitchen island in nothing but grey sweatpants, his long blond hair loosely tied back with a thin ribbon, tendrils spilling across his sharp shoulders. His body was absurd…firm abs, veined forearms, that obscene bulge beneath the cotton that Aubrey's eyes couldn't help but flick toward.
The man was barefoot, holding a tablet in one hand, flipping through documents like he wasn't the same monster who'd wrecked Aubrey into the mattress hours earlier.
He didn't say anything at first.
Just glanced up with those glacier eyes, silent and assessing.
Aubrey stared.
He's beautiful.
No. He's dangerous. You're FBI. You're not allowed to feel this.
"…You hungry?" Borya asked, voice low and deep, not looking away from his screen.
Aubrey blinked. "Excuse me?"
"I said, are you hungry. Food. Mouth. Yours. Do you need reminding how that works?"
Aubrey narrowed his eyes. "I remember how it works. You used it quite thoroughly last night."
A pause.
Borya's lip twitched slightly. "Then I fed you well."
"You're disgusting."
"You begged for it."
Aubrey flushed, storming toward the ridiculously large fridge. "Do you even have anything edible in this sterile penthouse or just protein powder and murder?"
"Middle drawer. Eggs and sausage."
"I hate sausage."
"Didn't sound like it last night."
He smirked.
Aubrey hurled a spoon at his head.
Borya caught it mid-air, never taking his eyes off the tablet. "Cute."
"God, you're insufferable."
He poured himself water, took a sip, then leaned against the counter.
Borya finally looked at him properly.
"You're quiet," he said.
"I was dozing. My body feels like I fell off a building."
"You'll get used to it."
Aubrey raised an eyebrow. "You planning to keep using me like a fucktoy, or are you just that sure I'll come crawling back?"
"You already did."
Aubrey blushed. "I didn't crawl."
"You whimpered."
"I moaned."
"You cried."
Aubrey's jaw dropped. "I hate you."
"No, you don't."
Another beat of silence passed between them.
Then…
"I'll drop you off in thirty minutes," Borya said suddenly, turning back to his files.
Aubrey froze. "What?"
"I have business. You can't stay here."
"Right," Aubrey said. "God forbid your fiancée finds me in your bed."
Borya's head snapped up.
"You jealous?"
"No." Aubrey's voice sharpened. "You think I don't know who she is? Tatiana Volkov. Moscow's coldest aristocratic bitch. She'd murder me in my sleep just for breathing in your direction."
"She wouldn't dare."
"Why? Because I let you fuck me twice?"
"Because you're all mine."
Aubrey swallowed.
"Don't say shit like that. You don't own me."
"I do."
"No, you don't…"
Borya dropped the tablet.
In a blink, he was across the room, pinning Aubrey against the counter, towering over him with his hands braced beside his sides.
"You think I'd let any other man touch you after what I did to you?" Borya whispered, voice velvet and blade.
"You think I'd let you walk away after the sounds you made? The way you clung to me like you'd die if I stopped?"
Aubrey's throat bobbed.
His heart raced.
"I didn't say I wanted to walk away," he said, barely above a whisper.
Borya's eyes darkened.
"Good," he said, and kissed him.
Fierce. Demanding. Raw.
Then just as fast, he pulled away and turned back toward the stairs.
"Be ready in twenty," he said over his shoulder.
Aubrey slid to the floor, chest heaving, fingertips pressed to his lips like they could still trap what had just happened.
This is dangerous.
This is addicting.
This is going to kill me.
And still, he didn't move.
Didn't run.
Because even now, with every warning screaming in his head...
He didn't want to.