“Every part of you is mine.” Mischa’s lips were close to his ear, and Tom turned his head a little to get closer. “I see all of you. You’re mine.”
Tom sighed and let Mischa finish. He was Mischa’s, every inch of him. Fuck, it felt good.
Chapter 9
Tom didn’t get his spanking the following morning; he was still too sore from the heavy flogging the day before. He was also floating, walking around Mischa’s house with a silly grin on his face. Their house, he guessed he was supposed to call it now. The thought made him feel giddy.
Mischa wasn’t much help; the man kept finding very vague excuses to go into the dining room where Tom was working, and it always ended in a lengthy kiss that left Tom out of breath and with a raging hard on. They definitely had to find a better rhythm when he moved in for good. Wow. Moving in. Tom kicked himself mentally when the thought made him lose his concentration for the fiftieth time that day. He decided to give up and went into Mischa’s office.
“Do you want to get lunch? I can’t concentrate on anything today.”
Mischa eagerly looked up. “I do. I’m not exactly productive myself.” They went into the kitchen and started making lunch. It was all very domestic if you ignored the fact that Mischa kept brushing against Tom’s sore ass, making him jump and gasp each and every time. They managed to sit down and eat, though.
“Are you going to have any problems with your apartment -- how long does your lease run?” It seemed that Mischa was as eager as Tom was to get him moved out here.
“I don’t think it’s going to be difficult. My roommate keeps talking about a friend who needs a place to stay. I think he was fishing for me to let him move in, but now the guy can take over my room instead.”
“You can call and ask him?” Mischa sounded as eager as a five-year old with a new bike. Okay, the hard on probably didn’t fit into that picture. At all. Tom shuddered.
Mischa was staring at him. “Are you okay?”
Tom looked apologetically at him. “Sorry, my mind was running.”
Mischa just shook his head. “Sometimes it seems you have a whole world of your own inside your head. I wonder how many people we actually are in this relationship?”
“Three, of course.” Tom was imperturbable. “You, me and my brain.”
Mischa leaned in, but didn’t touch. “One day,” he kept his voice low, “I’m going to fuck only your brain. And make you come by it.”
Tom felt like a rabbit in front of a snake; totally mesmerized, he could only stare into Mischa’s eyes. Mischa smirked.
“How about you get things sorted out this afternoon -- then we can make arrangements for a moving truck.”
Tom shook himself internally. Reality needing his attention, here. “Sure, but it doesn’t have to be more than a van -- I don’t have any furniture.”
This time it was Mischa’s turn to look uncomprehending. “You don’t have any furniture? At all?”
Tom shook his head. “Remember, poor student
and
stubborn? I only have a lousy bed and an old bookcase that threatens to topple over and bury me at least once a week.” He felt a little self-conscious. “I do have a lot of books, though, even if most of them are in storage at the moment. We might have to look at some new bookcases to put in one of the guest rooms.”
Mischa looked pensive. “How about we change the dining room into a library? We could leave the dining table in and then put up some nice shelves. That way you can have a good place to work and we can still invite people over for dinner.”
Tom blinked. “You’d do that?”
Mischa nodded. “Of course. I want you to feel welcome here.”
Tom got up and straddled Mischa’s thighs, kissing him. “Do you know how happy you make me?” Suddenly, his voice wasn’t quite steady.
Mischa smiled. “Not as happy as you make me.”
And yes, they ended up in the bedroom again. But who the fuck cared about being predictable?
***
Tom guessed that he should have known, but it turned out that Mischa was extremely thorough when it came to moving in boyfriends, too. Tom hadn’t had any problems with his lease; his roommate’s friend was ecstatic to find a place to live, and because it was “furnished” (Tom had really been reluctant to call his ratty old stuff that) the guy even took it in the middle of the month.
They picked up Tom’s books, and Mischa did look just a little overwhelmed when he saw how many boxes there were. It only took a moment, though; then he was making plans. Rather big and expensive plans.
“But we can just buy a couple of bookcases. It doesn’t have to cost that much.” Really, Tom didn’t want Mischa to have any expenses just because he was moving in.
“No, your books are the most important thing to you.” Tom couldn’t protest that. “I want you to have a real library.” Mischa didn’t sound as if that was up for debate. Tom felt that he had to try anyway. Mischa just gave him a look.
“Listen. Even if we don’t work out -- and we will -- then this will make the house more valuable. So it’s not an expense, it’s an investment. And I’m good at those.” There was absolutely nothing Tom could object to in that.
That was why the carpenters arrived two days later, bringing tons of wood and tools. And noise. And there were a lot of them. Okay, there were only three guys, but they all had very loud tools and did loud things with them, and Tom realized that he had gotten used to the silence of the countryside. He tried to tell himself that he was being ridiculous; a few months ago, he had never even set foot out here. Since then, though, it had started to feel like home, and now his home was being invaded.
He tried to work in the guest room, but it was next to the wall where the carpenters were building the shelves. On the second day, he was staring at the painting on the wall that was moving rhythmically every time someone banged on the other side of the wall. It felt like sitting inside a hammer. Tom blinked. When his imagery started deteriorating that far, it was time for a break.
He carefully rescued the painting (it was just a reproduction, but still; iconoclasm was a bad thing) and wandered around the house, idly looking for somewhere quiet even if he knew it would be impossible to find. One of the handymen came out of the library. Andy; Tom remembered the name because the guy was the only one out of the three not called Jeff. Which was odd when you thought about it. And his brain seriously needed something to do other than watch jumping pictures.
“Are we being noisy?”
Tom shrugged apologetically and leaned on the wall. “Not any more than you have to be to do your work, I guess. I’m just having trouble concentrating on my reading.”
The carpenter had a glint in his eyes. “Why don’t you just go in there?” He pointed at the door to the playroom, which they kept locked while they had strangers in the house. Carefully locked. “It’s bound to be quieter since it’s on the other side of the hallway.”
Tom mumbled something about it being used as a storage room. Really, it was the best he could come up with.
“Yeah? I was one of the guys building it, you know.” Tom desperately tried to figure out if the carpenter meant building as in laying the floorboards or as in making the spanking bench. Andy seemed to take pity on him.
“Mr. Richter was very specific about the things in there. He has always known what he wants. It seems he still does.” The carpenter smiled at Tom, less teasing this time.
“He does.” The relief welled up in Tom. And a little pride. Mischa had chosen him, after all.
“He’s never done it before, you know -- moved anybody in. Everybody wants to see who finally made big bad Mischa break down and be human.”
Tom had no idea what to say to that. It wasn’t as if he was a big catch or anything. “I guess he just found someone who can out-stubborn him.”
Andy laughed out loud. “Maybe.” He seemed about to say something more, but changed his mind. He had turned to leave when Tom blurted out.
“What are you?”
Andy turned back, his eyebrows raised. “What do you mean?” He saw Tom getting flustered.
“Ah, you mean if I’m a Dom or a sub?” Tom nodded. Andy leaned on the doorjamb.
“Guess.” He was still smiling, but there was a challenging note to his voice.
“Sub.” Tom said it before he could think about it.
Andy looked surprised. “Most people get that wrong. How did you figure it out?”
“You mold.”
Andy’s eyes got wide. “You mean I have a green layer all over?”
Tom laughed. “No. You shape your body after who you’re talking to. It’s a sign that you like the person you’re talking to -- or that you want to please him. Your submission isn’t just in your brain; it’s in your body, too.”
Andy looked surprised. “Huh.” He turned to go back to the library, casting a thoughtful glance over his shoulder at Tom. “I guess I know a couple of reasons why Mischa chose you.”
Tom frowned. That didn’t enlighten him whatsoever. He was tempted to go after Andy, asking the man what that was supposed to mean. Then Tom decided that he had a better outlet for his restlessness.
“I can’t concentrate!” Tom hadn’t slammed the door to Mischa’s office after him. Not exactly, at least, but Mischa still jumped when he heard the door close with a thump. Too bad; Tom needed to be fucked senseless against the wall. Or something.
Mischa slowly got up, the man’s eyes narrowing. “Ah, sir. I mean, I can’t concentrate, sir.” Fuck. Tom swallowed nervously and felt his cock stir at the same time. Very confusing. And hot.
Mischa walked up to him, unhurried. “So, the noise bothers you?” The Dom stood so close, and Tom was already hard. He managed to nod.
“I asked you a question.” Mischa grabbed Tom’s hair and pulled his head back, pinning him to the door. Tom squeaked, trying to find his balance. “Yes, sir! I mean, yes, the noise bothers me, sir.”
“I see.” Mischa was so close, almost rubbing against him. The Dom cupped Tom’s hard dick through his pants, and Tom gasped. He arched his body between Mischa’s hand in his hair and the one on his dick, letting himself be held up by the two points of contact, everything else disappearing in his attempt to find release. He was so close, Mischa’s demonstration of authority so powerful that he only needed a little more to come.
Mischa let go.
Tom pushed close, confused and so excited. Mischa took another step back.
“Ah ah, you have to wait until tonight, boy.”
Tom was aghast. “You can’t! I’m so fucking hard.” So hard it hurt, in fact. “This is just plain mean.”
Mischa cocked his head. The playful glint had disappeared from his eyes. “Mean?” He drew the word out. Tom froze. “I don’t like to be called that. And it’s not for you to decide when I do what. It seems someone’s just earned himself a punishment.” Mischa looked thoughtfully at Tom. “You won’t be coming until tomorrow.”
Tom felt his shoulders slump. He wasn’t hard anymore; the misery from fucking up had made him go soft. “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to screw up.” He kept his head down and turned to leave the office.
Mischa grabbed him and turned him back. “Don’t, Tom.”
Tom couldn’t meet Mischa’s eyes. “I didn’t mean to make you angry, sir.”
Mischa gently lifted Tom’s head with a hand under his chin. “Look at me.”
Tom managed to let his eyes meet Mischa’s. His lover looked at him with kind eyes.
“I’m not angry with you. You lost your patience, and I’m punishing you for it. Action, consequence.” Mischa bent his head and gently kissed Tom. Tom gratefully pushed into it. “It has nothing to do with how I feel about you. In fact,” Mischa took another kiss, “there will probably be more punishments when I push you further. And I’m going to enjoy each and every one of them immensely.”
Tom raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to speak. “Please consider carefully if what you’re about to say isn’t just going to get you into more trouble.” Tom shut his mouth around the snide remark he had intended.
“A wise decision.” Mischa rubbed Tom’s shoulders.
Tom sighed and tried to relax. “I still feel like I fucked up.”
“You did.” Tom’s head shot up. Mischa smiled, still massaging Tom’s shoulders. “You’re not perfect. You fucked up, and therefore you’re not going to come until tomorrow. It’s that simple.”
Tom looked at him, skeptically. “Yeah?”
“Yes. However, there’s no reason why I can’t come.” Mischa rubbed himself through his clothes. “Do you want to watch, boy?” Tom blinked, unable to understand what Mischa was asking him. The man couldn’t be that mea... Tom stopped that line of thought. Mischa looked at him, expecting an answer. Tom suddenly got it.
“Yes, sir. Please.” Mischa looked very satisfied, sitting back down in the swivel chair. “Over here, boy. Kneel in front of me.” The Dom slowly unzipped, waiting for Tom to obey. Tom had to order his legs to move, to sink down in front of Mischa. In front of his master.
“Good boy. You can look, but you can’t come.” Mischa started rubbing himself slowly, his thumb sliding over the slit on every stroke. Tom swallowed, mesmerized by the sight in front of him. Mischa’s hands moved slowly, but none the less, it didn’t take long before he was very hard, the precome making his fingers wet. Mischa gasped, and Tom forced himself to look up from Mischa’s hard cock to watch his Dom’s face. Mischa groaned, eyes never leaving Tom’s while he came.
Tom’s legs were shaking and he was rock hard when he got up and fetched Mischa some tissues. He knelt back down and offered them to Mischa. Mischa caught his hand.
“Good boy.” Mischa’s eyes didn’t leave his. “You get it now, don’t you?”
Tom knelt, letting his body sink into the pose and his eyes meet Mischa’s. “Yes, sir.” He smiled. “You’re all about the power play.”
***
Comprehension was one thing, obedience quite another. Especially when it came to controlling your very hard dick when you had to sleep next to the sexiest man in the northern hemisphere.
“I’m not sure this is going to work.” Tom looked doubtfully at his more than half hard cock. “I really want to obey, but I’ll probably try to hump you in my sleep.” Mischa giggled. Tom looked up, pouting. “Hey, I’m trying to be realistic, here.”
Mischa folded his arms. “You’re probably right.” He looked thoughtful. “I think I have an idea. Lie down, hands over your head.”
Tom lay down obediently, holding onto the bed above his head. Mischa moved Tom’s legs apart, making him feel open and vulnerable. It only made his dick harder.
“Wait here. Try to think soft thoughts.” Mischa giggled again and left the room.