A(ndrei)sexual & Other Tales - Chapter Three: in which we must forgive the anti-hero

Warning: 18+ readers only; this blog is dark and full of terrors!

(language and scenes of a very sexual nature from the get-go! Like seriously. Turn back now before it's too late!)

Late Winter

Andrei

       I face the wall as Oscar moves gently behind me. We have to be quiet, or we'll wake up Luke, who hasn't moved rooms yet (it's been months since he was supposed to have gone, but I guess he can't let go). I don't care much if he catches us, just worried he'll make a scene.

       Oscar's pretty big, but it isn't doing it for me tonight. I hate doing it like this, gentle and quiet. And almost romantic. I can sense he's not having the best time either. I feel like I've let him down. I've got a reputation to uphold, after all.

       I turn around, pushing him onto his back. "This isn't working," I whisper.

       "You're not kidding."

       I peel the condom off him and throw it on the floor before crawling down his body. We're not even under the covers, so if Luke wakes up, there's no way of hiding what we're doing. I look up at his face, his brown hair even more like the night in the darkened room. I know why I picked him. I'm not too fussy, but Oscar is a beautiful boy.

 He grabs my hair as I slip him between my lips and down my throat. He gasps out, and I dig my nails into his hips to try and shush him, but it just makes it worse. I can feel myself about to giggle as he puts his other hand over his mouth. I suck hard, wiggling my tongue ferociously, and he grips my hair tighter.

       "God, Andrei..." he sighs. "You're so good... Fuck!"

       His voice makes me want to go deeper, but I'm worried he'll moan too loud.

       And then I hear shifting on the bed a few metres away.

       I slide my lips up, letting Oscar's slick shaft fall from my mouth, and look over.

       Luke stares at me, the street lights illuminating his face through the closed curtains. I maintain eye contact, reaching for Oscar with my hand and moving it up and down. I can't tell if it's a pain in Luke's gaze or something else. He doesn't look away, but sits up, his covers falling and exposing his chest.

       I work on Oscar with my tongue and fingers to get him wet, looking away from Luke briefly to see the other boy's face. He hasn't noticed Luke yet. Yet.

       I crawl back up Oscar's body, licking at his chest as I go. He sighs, pulling me into a heated kiss. His hand moves to my erection, squeezing it gently.

       "We have an audience," I whisper in Oscar's ear, loud enough for Luke to hear. He turns his head, and I see him, and my ex-lover lock eyes.

       I expect Oscar to freak out and push me away, but he doesn't. Instead, he looks back at me with a smirk before roughly rolling me under him and then flipping me over, bringing my hips up. I lean on my elbows, watching his hand reach for the bottle of lube sitting out by the lamp. I clutch the pillow, excitement brewing in my stomach as I dare to glance over at Luke again. I notice his hand moving under his covers and realise he's pleasuring himself.

       And I feel Oscar's now slippery fingers push inside me. "Aah!" A cry catches me off guard, a sudden heat shooting through me as he expertly gropes me.

       I can't take my eyes off Luke. I was not expecting this. 

       Oscar's fingers move deep, and another moan escapes me.  God, he's even a pro at the prep.

       I consider a scenario that probably isn't the smartest idea, but...  Fuck it.

       I crawl away from Oscar and off the bed. I feel like I'm not even in control of myself as I step over to Luke's bed. His eyes skim over my nakedness and then up at my face. I look back at Oscar, who's still on his knees in position, staring at me as if to say "What the fuck are you playing at?" I wink at him before climbing onto Luke's bed, pulling his pants off and devouring his now solid cock with my lips.

       I don't notice Oscar crawling up behind me until he's inside of me. He's got another condom on, and he's moving fast, gripping my hips.

       The writhing body underneath us sighs. "What the fuck is even... happening..."

       My mouth is too full of his cock to reply, but I don't think he wants an answer.

       The next morning, I awaken sprawled across Luke's chest with Oscar's arm over my waist. I barely remember falling asleep. Details from last nights' debauchery are still fresh in my memory as I sit up between them, empty condom packets littering the carpet; Luke and Oscar kissing and touching... various orifices penetrated by tongues, fingers, appendages...

       My head hurts.

       I crawl out of bed carefully, trying not to wake either of them and grab my phone to check my messages.

       Two texts from Dora.

       The first one, sent at half eight last night: "Dude, are you coming to the bar tonight?"  

       The second one sent two hours after: "I guess not then."

       Were we fucking for that long?  Shit.  I was supposed to meet Dora last night to celebrate my eighteenth birthday early since I have school tomorrow and I was supposed to be taking advantage of the midweek teacher training day. No way am I sitting through classes with a hangover...

       Since that night near the end of summer, Dora and I have become somewhat best friends. He fucking hates it, I can tell. I don't think either of us thought we'd become close after we were forced together. But we have, and it's been so unreal having someone in my life with whom I feel as comfortable as I do. Unfortunately, I can't help having felt a little more for him than just the platonic. Sometimes it's hard, having a crush on your best friend. I know he'd never go for it - he's clearly asexual. We don't exactly talk about it; it's more just me trying to make him subconsciously realise that he should sleep with me, even though that would be the worst idea. I don't do crushes. I don't do sex with feelings.

       Except with him.

       Except with him, it's not just sex with feelings. It's love. And I hate it, hate I can't ever do it again, and I hate him for making me feel like I do.

       I was only just fifteen when Marius found me on the streets of Kyiv, homeless and probably dying from malnutrition, having had run away from Russia. The only personal items on me were my birth certificate, the same rags I'd been wearing all year and a small bag of coins. I don't know what happened before that. The only memories I have of that are in my nightmares; strange men, cold nights, hunger and pain. To be honest, I barely even remember how he brought me to London. All I know is, now I have a British passport and the best education on this side of the island. But I guess you can get anything when you have enough money.

       I remember the first night I spent with him and Petra, his housekeeper, in the hotel they were staying at in Kyiv. Petra had bathed me - which thinking back, I get embarrassed about - and they took me out for a fancy expensive meal in the city. And I couldn't speak much English, so she soothed me in broken Russian after realising I didn't understand Ukrainian. For a week, I stayed in Petra's room with her while Marius sorted out getting me back to Chelsea with them both on his private jet. After that, life was all new clothes, hot food, private lessons, and never having to go on my knees for anyone against my will.

       I'll probably never know the reasons why Marius chose me. I can't have been the only poor, sick, homeless kid he'd seen on his travels.

       I picked up English spectacularly quickly, convincing Marius I had the mind of a genius. As soon as I'd learned enough of the language, he enrolled me in Harringly Boys School. I got a choice to live in their boarding or continue residing in Marius' house. Of course, I chose the latter. I loved everything about that place; the long hallways, the dozens of rooms, the dining room with the banquet table. My favourite place was the study room with the easel and piano, and sometimes he would paint, and I'd play the keys for him.

       By the time I was sixteen, I was very aware of my feelings for Marius, and I knew they were wrong. He was twice my age - although he didn't look it - and divorced. What would he possibly see in me? A skinny little redhead kid with a wicked tongue... But he treated me with so much attention, more than anyone that I could remember doing. We would discuss art, politics, music, culture. I could feel the respect he had for me. He always encouraged my paintings, and he taught me to play the piano. But for some reason, I was convinced he could love me as I loved him. Not this seemingly platonic, almost paternal love he had for me: I thought I could make him love me more than that. He'd been away in Rome, visiting Lydia - his ex-wife, whom he was still on good terms with and I hated - and I was so relieved he was home. I knew I shouldn't show it, but my body needed him. It was a more intense need than I'd had before, probably fuelled by jealousy. He did what he usually would do when he'd come back from travelling; say hello, and then go for a shower. Once I knew the housekeepers were away in their rooms for the night, I crept into Marius' grand bedroom. Sometimes when he wasn't home, I would come in and just lie on his bed. I know, probably not the best idea but I couldn't stop myself. 

       I stood there for about two minutes before I heard the water in the shower room shut off. And then I lost my nerve.

       I darted out of his room and back into my own, my heart racing spectacularly. What the fuck was that, I thought to myself.  Stop being such a coward!

       I waited a few more minutes before I walked back along the hall and tapped on his door.

       "It's Andrei..." I murmured.

       "Oh, come in."

       I pushed the door open and stepped in, closing the door behind me. I stared at Marius, his glistening naked body wrapped at the waist with a towel, his long blonde hair still wet and sticking to his collarbone in clumps. He glanced over to me as he ruffled another towel over his torso.

       "What's wrong? I thought you were in bed."

       I was wearing a long robe, the one I usually would wear before going to bed. Normally I'd have something on under it, but not tonight.

       "I couldn't sleep..." I said, my voice shaking and slight. I took a step towards him. "I missed you."

       "Surely you weren't lonely with Petra taking care of you?" Marius smiled at me, that beautiful smile. My heart melted.

       "No, no... It's not the same." Another step.

       He started looked at me warily then. "Is... something the matter?" He narrowed his ice-blue eyes at me, but he didn't back away.

       "Yes," I said, now so close to him I had to tilt my head up just to look at his face. "Marius, I..."

       The whole speech I'd had planned and memorised fell apart as I tried to speak. I raised my hand and placed it on Marius's shoulder. He continued to look down at me, a concerned gaze in his eyes.

       "Andrei." His voice was barely a whisper but kind. "I know what you're going to say."

       "You do?" My heart lit up, only for Marius's to extinguish it immediately.

       He lifted his hand and grazed my cheek with his thumb. "Don't..."

       "You say 'don't' but..." I'd suddenly found my words. "Can you say you don't want me?"

       "Please, don't ask me that."

       "Can you?"

       His eyes fell over my robed body as if to avoid my gaze. With my free hand, I gently tugged on the cord, loosening its hold on the fabric. Of course, Marius had seen me naked before, when I was deathly skinny and filthy. Since then, I had matured, had become less like a kid and more masculine.  

       He stared, fixated on my nakedness.

       I felt Marius's hand glide down my neck, moving through my hair and over my shoulder, pushing the light fabric off, revealing more of my pale skin before the whole thing fell to the ground.

       I pushed myself against him, our bodies finally touching, my hands now at his waist and on the towel. "Do you want me?"

       It was at this point that I realised I hadn't kissed anyone before. But I didn't care. My lips wanted what they wanted.

       He looked at me guardedly, our faces closer than they'd ever been. His hands found my neck. I could tell that I was pushing him further than he wanted to go, but I needed him.

       Marius's lips came to mine slowly, but when they did, it was like I'd been missing a piece of me for as long as I could remember and only just realised I'd been searching for it because I'd found it. It was okay that I didn't know what I was doing because he did, and it didn't feel messy or wrong. It was perfect.

       I felt scared as he laid me down on the bed. Somewhere in the recesses of my memory, I knew I'd done this before, and I knew it hurt to have someone inside, tearing me apart.

 But as Marius kissed me and held his body over mine, it didn't hurt at all. It felt right. With his warm skin and the soft sheets and my body completely open to him, it was unlike anything that had ever happened to me before. We were like light hitting off each other, becoming flames in the dark.

       I know what we did that night wasn't "fucking". It wasn't like what I do now. It was pure, heart-busting-at-the-seams love.

       But my heart wasn't full for long.

       We lay apart afterwards. I could feel sleep trying to take over me, but as Marius sat up, I jolted awake.

       He turned on the side lamp, his legs over the edge of the bed. I sat up too and reached for him.

       "We shouldn't have done that." His voice was dark.

       "What?"

       "I took advantage of you. I'm sorry."

       I shook my head, not quite understanding. "No, you didn't, I wanted --"

       "No." He turned his head so I could see the side of his face. "This shouldn't have happened. You're only sixteen..." I could see the pain on his face as he closed his eyes tightly. "You're only sixteen."

       I edged closer to him, panic rising in my stomach. "It doesn't matter --"

       He turned around fully to face me. He was angry. "Andrei, I'm twice your age!"

       "It's still legal," I assured him, reaching for his arm, but he pulled away, standing up. "I checked --"

       "You checked?!" Marius started to pull boxers on. "You need to... to go to your room."

       "But..." I could feel the tears burning the back of my throat. "But I want to stay here. With you."

       He bent over, picking my robe up off the floor. "You need to go. Now." His voice was low and quiet, impatient.

       "Marius --"

       "Now!"

       He'd never yelled at me before.

       I didn't even try to hold back the tears as I grabbed my robe from his hand, and quickly covered myself with it. He watched me run out of the room, slamming the door behind me.

       I knew then that he was going to send me to the boarding house.

       It's been two years since then, and I've barely seen or heard from him. He speaks to me mostly through Petra who I see on the first Sunday of every month, but she mostly just tells me how different Marius is since I left. Quieter, apparently, and he travels twice as much like he can't bear to be in the house.

       Hearing about this always makes me feel a little better like he might be missing me. But given his lack of contact, I'm not hopeful.

       I hear stirring from the bed.

       "G' morning..." says Luke, sleepily.

       "Hey."

       "Happy birthday, Andrei."

       "Yeah..." I don't look at him as I grab my towel. "It is indeed!"

       "Is it true that you're graduating in a few weeks?"

       Oh, so it's got around.

       "Yeah. And I'm leaving today so you won't have to move rooms after all!" This morning I feel bitter.

       When I graduate, I don't even know what's going to happen to me; where I'll live, what I'll do for money... I might have to go back to what I was doing in Kyiv.

       Luke says nothing, and neither do I. Oscar breathes deeply as he continues sleeping.

       Marius is coming to collect me today. Petra told me a year ago that he would be moving me out of the boarding house before I graduated, on my eighteenth birthday but I didn't believe her until she called to confirm yesterday. She said he'd be here by twelve and it's now half nine. I don't know what's going to happen.

       And for the first time since I left Russia, I'm genuinely scared for myself.

       One of the guidance counsellors comes to escort me out of the boarding house. She's not even one that taught me. I guess my teacher wasn't available today.

       I drag my suitcase along the hall and out the door, saying a final goodbye to the doorman. We always had something special.

       I wonder what he'll say. Will he comment on my piercings? Or how long my hair has grown? Will he even notice? Or care? Or will he just take me straight to the train station?

       I see Petra's red Mercedes in the parking lot and quietly curse under my breath.  That fucker... couldn't even collect me like he promised.

       I walk towards the car, unable to see through the blacked-out windows as I open the trunk and lift my suitcase inside before opening the front passenger door.

       Long blonde hair, red sweater, black jeans. He somehow looks even more handsome than before.  ...That fucker.

       "Well, get in then," he says, unsmiling.

       I swallow and slowly slide in on the seat, closing the door behind me. Marius immediately starts the engine and reverses before I can fasten my seatbelt.

       We're on the motorway before he speaks again.

       "I can see the influence Fox has had," he says, not taking his eyes off the road. "You didn't have all that metal in your face before."

       "I guess." My throat is dryer than it has ever been and the words scratch. I reach into my pocket, pulling out a packet of Marlboros. I place one between my lips and open the window before lighting it, glancing at him to see any reaction.

       He says nothing.

       I inhale sharply, almost in protest, and don't even try to exhale out the window.

       Smoking is also Fox's influence.

       We sit in silence for the rest of the thirty-minute journey. I'm relieved when I see that big familiar house come into view. I had convinced myself he would take me to the station.

       Marius gets my suitcase from the boot of the car while Petra runs out of the house and embraces me.

       "I'm so glad you're home," she says in her usual broken Russian. It nearly makes me want to cry, the way she says "home".

       "I'm glad too," I reply in much the same way, my face unable to control the smiling as I speak my mother tongue for the first time since I left the house.

       Marius walks past with my suitcase, and I feel uneasy, but Petra continues to fuss over me, fluffing up my hair, pinching my cheeks like I'm a small child, even though I'm taller than she is.

       I finally walk through the large oak doors. Not much seems to have changed; the furniture and ornaments are all in the same place... Except there's one new addition; last year's school photo, in an ornate standing frame. It's a good picture of me, to be honest. My hair is contained (sort of) in a high bun, and I'm smiling. I immediately wander over and pick it up.

       "Petra wanted it here. Sorry, you probably hate that photo," a moody voice says from behind me.

       "No... I don't mind it."

       Marius puts a hand on my shoulder. "I'll take your case up to your room."

       "No," I say, pulling away. "I'll take it."

       I can't bear him touching me. It feels like fire melting me into him.

       I grab the suitcase and haul it up the steps. I can feel Marius's eyes on me, watching my struggle, and I'm embarrassed; my case is fucking massive, and I'm horrifically weak.  A big house like this and he can't get a fucking elevator installed?  

       As I reach the top landing, I glance over the bannister. Marius walks across the hall towards the West Wing, probably going to his study. I already feel abandoned.

       Nothing has changed in my room, either. Petra has obviously been in and cleaned it recently; the smell of clean sheets and furniture polish fills the air. But everything else is the same; the same dark wood furniture, the same lavish four-poster, even the same Slipknot pictures above the smaller of the dressers.

       I throw my case down in the corner and pull my boots off. There's little point in unpacking right now. I close the curtains before turning on the lamps in an attempt to bring a little comfort to the room. I manage to light the fire unaided. Even if I'm not going to be here much longer, I might as well enjoy it while I can.

       I saunter over to the bookcase, running my fingers over the spines of old favourites, and grab one at random, settling on the bed to read.

       But I can't focus on any words. My eyes run over the lines, and my hands turn the pages, but I'm not taking in anything. All I can think about is... He's going to send me back.  I'm going to end up on the streets again.

       I don't notice much time passing until I hear a small knock and a deep voice is resonating through the quiet hall and the gap between the door and the wall: "Can I come in?"

       I look down at my hands, realising I've already turned nearly a hundred pages. "I guess. It's your house."

       Marius opens the door a little more and steps in, keeping his distance as he looks around awkwardly. He's obviously not been in here since I left. I turn back to my book and continue pretending to read, flipping through the pages absently.

       "I'm glad you're making yourself at home again," Marius remarks, glancing at the fire.

       An awkward silence follows.

       "Petra has gone to the store to get food. She wants to make all your favourites, and it will take a while, so dinner will be later than what you're used to."

       "That's fine. I'm not hungry anyway."

       "You could maybe unpack while you wait..?"

       "What's the point?" I retort, my voice sounding as tired as I feel.

       "What do you mean?"

       I look across the room at him, and I can feel my icy coolness starting to melt. "It's not like I'll be here for long, is it? You're just going to ship me back, right?"

       "I don't know what --"

       "It's fine. I'll save you the plane ticket and crash at Fox's or something."

       "Why would I send you away?"

       "That's what you do, isn't it?"

       "Andrei --"

       My name on his lips sends a flare through me. I suddenly dart up from the bed, throwing the book aside. "What?! What are you going to possibly say?!"

       "I didn't mean to --"

       "Like hell, you didn't mean to!" I'm glad Petra isn't in. She'd be bound to hear my screams all through the house.     

       "You have no idea how sorry I am..."

       "Which part are you sorry for?! Sending me away? Or breaking my heart?!" The tears I've been holding back since that day are finally coming. And all the words I've wanted to say. They're coming fast and all at once. "You have no idea what you put me through, throwing me in that hell hole! I've been hurting for two whole fucking years, Marius! And you're sorry?!"

       "You were just a... a kid, what else was I supposed to do?" I can hear the frustration in Marius' voice; he's trying not to get mad, and he knows he has no right to be. "I'm not exactly proud of what happened..."

       "How dare you!" I clench my fists at my side, trying to restrain myself from launching across the room and punching him. The tears have stopped and are replaced with utter rage. "Did you think sending me away would keep me from loving you?! Because it didn't!"

       "Andrei, calm down."

       "I will not fucking calm down! Who do you think you are, thinking you can tell me what to do?!" My face burns with my heart and my throat. "I don't even know where to start with how much I despise you."

       Marius stares at me. "If that's how you feel."

       He turns to leave, and dread overwhelms me. "What? What are you going to do?"

       "You obviously don't want to be here. I'll call Fox, and she can come to get you."

       My throat is aching.

       "You're not even going to try and make me stay?"

       He turns back to me, visibly exhausted. "What do you want from me, Andrei? Please. Tell me. Whatever you want, I'll do it."

       "Don't you want me here?" My voice is soft now, shaking and painful.

       "Of course, I want you here! But I can't make you stay."

       "Marius..." My heart is defeated.  Make me stay. Try and force me to stay. I'm done fighting you now. "I hate you for how much you make me love you."

 Before I realise he's even moved, his lips are on mine. He's pushing against me, and I push back, grabbing his hair as his hands clutch urgently at my sweater. He pulls away, placing kisses on my neck and up to my ear, sending shivers all through my core.

       "I can't stop loving you either, Andrei." Just hearing my name like this in his voice makes me feel hot. I've never felt so desperate and charged and full of fire like I'm burning alive. My whole body is in flames for him.

       I grab his shoulders and push him against the bottom post of the bed, ripping his shirt open, sending buttons flying in all directions and pull it frantically off his arms. He kisses me roughly before lifting my sweater over my head. Marius's bare skin on mine lights a fire under me. I kneel down in front of him and pull his jeans and pants down, just enough to release his hardness and slip it between my lips. I feel his fingers in my hair, stroking it gently and sweetly as I push him to the back of my throat. He sighs heatedly, and I wiggle my tongue in all the right places.

       I want to be the best he's ever had...

       He's pulling me over to the bed, tugging my jeans off before his own and crawls between my legs. He guides himself inside of me, his length sliding easily against all my nerve endings. I feel weak and happy, and all I can do is grab at the sheets and his back and moan into his neck with every harsh thrust he makes. 

       Suddenly he stops, catching his breath, and I feel the fear rising up in me.  He's changed his mind. He's made a mistake again.

       He kisses my neck gently, easing the tension, filling me relief.

       "Marius..." I whisper as I wrap my legs around his waist. "I missed you so much it hurt."

       He stares into my eyes. "I'll do whatever I can to make it up to you..." His voice is quiet and full of pain. "I love you."

       This time is different from the last time. We make love for nearly forty minutes before we finally give in to completion. Marius doesn't move away from me but instead holds me close, kissing my face and whispering sweet words to me.

       "Am I forgiven?" he asks, stroking my cheek with his thumb.

       I let a sly smile cross my lips. "Hmm... You may have to do that a few more times yet."

       He laughs a little, holding my chin gently and tilting my face towards his more. "Of course..." He pulls me into a deep, slow kiss that's so full of electricity I feel myself getting hard again.

       "We better make it quick then," I say with a grin.

       "Ah..." Marius says, trying to pull away. "Petra will be home very soon, so we should get ready for dinner. I'll need to find a new shirt to wear..."

       I let him go, feigning annoyance. "Fine."

       He glances over at me with a warning look that says I better watch myself, and then we hear the front door shut.

       Petra is home.