Silence.
Ivanov pauses, feeling Sam's body shaking with sobs, hearing the desperation and fear in his voice. For a moment, a flicker of uncertainty crosses Ivanov's face. He sees the tears streaming down Sam's cheeks, the way his body is trembling, and feels a pang of something almost like regret.
"Shh, malysh," Ivanov murmurs, his voice gentling slightly as he pulls Sam back against his chest. "Shh, it's alright. I... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you so much."
He cups Sam's chin, turning his face towards him, wiping away the tears with his thumbs. His touch is surprisingly tender, at odds with the brutal handling of moments before. Ivanov's dark eyes search Sam's face, seeing the fear and the pain, and feels a strange urge to soothe, to comfort.
"Let's... let's take this slower, da?" Ivanov suggests, his voice a low rumble in his chest. "No more hurry. You're new to this, and I... I should be more gentle with you."
He guides Sam over to the bed, helping him to sit on the edge of it. Ivanov kneels down in front of him, his hands on Sam's knees. He massages the flesh gently, working his way up to Sam's thighs, his touch growing softer, more soothing with each passing moment.
"Tell me what you need, Sam," Ivanov coaxes, his voice a low murmur. "Tell me how to make this good for you." His hands reach Sam's hips, gripping them with a gentleness that surprises Sam, given the brutality of before.
Sam looks at Ivanov, his eyes still shimmering with unshed tears, but with a glimmer of trust starting to return. "I... I told you to be gentle," he whispers. "But, but you stupid just keeps on going!."
Ivanov nods, his expression softens. "I am sorry, malysh. I'll be gentle with you." He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to Sam's lips, a contrast to the harsh kisses of before. It's a kiss full of apology and promise, a silent vow to treat Sam with care.
His hands move to Sam's shirt, slowly, carefully, peeling it up and off his body. He tosses it aside, leaving Sam bare from the waist up.
Ivanov takes a moment to admire Sam's bare torso, his fingertips tracing gently over the smooth skin, feeling the way Sam shivers at his touch. He leans in, pressing soft kisses along Sam's collarbone, up the column of his throat, his lips a whisper against Sam's racing pulse.
"Beautiful," Ivanov murmurs, his voice a low rumble. "So beautiful, malysh. Like a work of art." His hands map out Sam's body, learning every dip and curve, committing the feel of him to memory.
Sam's breath hitches as Ivanov's lips find his, the kiss deepening, growing more urgent. He can feel the heat building between them, the undeniable attraction that draws him to Ivanov like a moth to a flame. It scares him, but it excites him too, the promise of pleasure, of passion, of something more.
Ivanov's hands move to Sam's jeans, unbuttoning them slowly, carefully. He tugs them down Sam's legs, taking his underwear with them, leaving Sam bare and exposed. Ivanov takes a moment to drink in the sight of Sam's naked body, his eyes darkening with desire.
"Lay back, Sam," Ivanov instructs softly, his voice a gentle command. "Lay back and let me make you feel good." He guides Sam down onto the bed, settling between his thighs.
Sam hesitates for a moment, but at Ivanov's encouraging nod, he allows himself to sink back against the sheets. Ivanov settles over him, his weight a comforting pressure against Sam's smaller frame. He leans down, capturing Sam's lips in a slow, deep kiss, his tongue delving into Sam's mouth, exploring, tasting.
His hand slides down Sam's body, over the flat plane of his stomach, coming to rest on Sam's hip. He squeezes gently, his thumb rubbing circles on the bone, before trailing lower, finding Sam's aching arousal. Ivanov wraps his fingers around Sam's shaft, stroking slowly, teasingly, his grip feather-light and gentle.
Sam gasps into Ivanov's mouth, his hips jerking up into Ivanov's touch. Ivanov chuckles softly, the sound vibrating through Sam's body, as he continues his slow, sensual assault. He takes his time, building Sam's pleasure carefully, not rushing, not pushing too hard or too fast.
Ivanov takes his time exploring Sam's body, his hands and mouth mapping every inch of exposed skin. He teases Sam mercilessly, touching him in ways that make him gasp and shudder, building a slow burn of desire that threatens to consume him.
Ivanov's lips trail down Sam's chest, his tongue flicking out to circle a nipple before drawing it into his mouth. He suckles gently, sending jolts of pleasure shooting through Sam's body. Sam tangles his fingers in Ivanov's dark hair, holding him close, silently begging for more.
Ivanov grins against Sam's skin, the sensation making Sam's nipple tighten and strain against Ivanov's lips. He laves the hardened nub with his tongue before switching to the other, giving it the same treatment. All the while, his hand continues its slow, tortuous stroking of Sam's cock, the rhythm maddeningly steady and deliberate.
Sam writhes beneath Ivanov, his body flushed and overheated, his skin tingling with sensation. He's never been touched like this before, with such patience and skill, such a clear intent to drive him to the brink of madness with pleasure. It's overwhelming, the feelings crashing over him in waves, threatening to drown him.
"Please," Sam whimpers, his voice high and thready. "Please, Ivanov..." He doesn't even know what he's begging for anymore, only that he needs more, needs everything Ivanov can give him.
Ivanov lifts his head, his eyes dark and intense as he stares down at Sam. "Shh, malysh," he murmurs, his voice a low, soothing rumble. "I have you. I'll give you everything you need sweets." His hand speeds up slightly on Sam's cock, the strokes growing a little longer, a little harder.
He shifts his position, settling between Sam's thighs, his clothed erection pressing against Sam's bare one. Ivanov rolls his hips, rubbing their cocks together, the friction delicious and maddening all at once. Sam cries out, his back arching off the bed, his fingers scrabbling at Ivanov's shoulders.
"Fuck, Sam," Ivanov growls, his voice rough with desire. "You feel so good. So perfect, pressed against me like this." He captures Sam's lips in a searing kiss, his tongue plundering Sam's mouth, claiming him.
Ivanov's hand leaves Sam's cock to grip his thigh, pushing it up and back, opening Sam wider to him. He settles between Sam's legs, his clothed erection pressing heavily against Sam's entrance. Sam gasps, feeling the thick length of Ivanov's cock, hot and hard and insistent against him.
Ivanov reaches down, unzipping his jeans slowly, freeing his aching arousal. It springs up, long and thick and intimidating, the bulbous head already leaking pre-cum. Sam swallows hard, a flicker of fear passing through him at the sight of it. It's so big, so much bigger than anything he's ever taken before.
Sensing Sam's trepidation, Ivanov leans down, capturing Sam's lips in a slow, deep kiss. "Shh, malysh," he murmurs against Sam's mouth. "Don't be afraid. I'll go slow, I promise. I won't hurt you." His voice is low and soothing, his breath warm and comforting against Sam's skin.
He reaches into the nightstand drawer, pulling out a small bottle of lube. He slickens his fingers, before trailing them down to Sam's entrance, circling the tight ring of muscle. Sam tenses, his body instinctively resisting the invasion, but Ivanov is patient. He massages the flesh gently, working the lube into the skin, until Sam starts to relax.
Slowly, carefully, Ivanov slips a finger inside, feeling Sam's tight heat clench around the intrusion. He goes still, letting Sam adjust to the sensation, before starting to pump his finger in and out, a slow, steady rhythm. Sam gasps, his back arching off the bed, his hands fisting in the sheets.
"Breathe, Sam," Ivanov reminds him softly, his voice a low murmur. "Nice and easy." He works a second finger in alongside the first, then a third, stretching Sam slowly, carefully, until he's taking three fingers easily.
Ivanov curls them inside Sam, rubbing against that sensitive bundle of nerves hidden deep within him. Sam cries out, his cock jerking and leaking against his stomach, the pleasure overwhelming him. Ivanov smirks, watching Sam come undone on his fingers, feeling a dark sense of satisfaction at reducing this man to a needy, wanton mess.
Sam feels empty when Ivanov removes his fingers, a strange ache already missing their presence inside him. But before he can dwell on it, he feels the blunt head of Ivanov's cock pressing against his entrance, hot and hard and insistent.
Ivanov looks down at Sam, his eyes dark and intense, filled with a hunger that makes Sam's heart race. "Remember, malysh, breathe," Ivanov reminds him, his voice a low rumble. "You're doing so well, taking this so well. Such a good boy for me."
Sam flushes at the praise, a confusing mix of pride and shame washing through him. He's never been called a good boy before, not like this, not for something so intimate, so intimate. It makes him feel special, cherished even, in a dark and twisted way.
Ivanov starts to push forward, the head of his cock popping past Sam's tight ring of muscle. Sam gasps, his body clenching instinctively, the stretch burning and intense. Ivanov pauses, letting Sam adjust, his breath hot and heavy against Sam's neck.
"Breathe, Sam," Ivanov murmurs, his lips brushing Sam's ear. "You're doing so well, taking me so deep. Such a perfect little cock sleeve, made to be filled by me."
Sam whimpers, his fingers digging into Ivanov's shoulders, his nails leaving red lines in the skin. He feels so full, so stretched, the burn of the intrusion overwhelming. But at the same time, he can feel the pleasure building, the slow throb of Ivanov's cock deep inside him, the way it pulses and twitches, growing harder by the second.
Ivanov starts to move again, pushing in a little deeper, a little further, until he's buried to the hilt inside Sam. Sam cries out, his body shaking, his cock jerking against his stomach, leaking pre-cum in thick ropes. Ivanov groans, his hips pressed flush against Sam's ass, his heavy balls resting against Sam's skin.
"Fuck, Sam," Ivanov growls, his voice rough with pleasure. "You feel incredible, like you were made for my cock. So fucking tight." He starts to move, pulling out slowly before slamming back in, setting a hard, driving rhythm that makes the bed frame creak beneath them.
Ivanov starts to move faster, his hips snapping forward with increasing force. The room fills with the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin, the creaking of the bed frame, and their mingled panting breaths. Ivanov's hands grip Sam's hips hard enough to bruise, holding him in place as he pounds into him relentlessly.
"Fuck, Sam," Ivanov snarls, his voice tight with pleasure and dark hunger. "Take it, fucking take it. This is what you're made for." His hips slam forward, burying his cock to the hilt in Sam's tight heat.
Sam can only moan out loud, his voice breaking on each brutal thrust. The pleasure is overwhelming, the pain blurring the lines until he can't tell where one ends and the other begins. Tears stream down his face, but his cock throbs and jerks, leaking pre-cum all over his stomach. His body is betraying him, craving more of Ivanov's punishing pace.
Ivanov leans down, sinking his teeth into the side of Sam's neck, biting down hard enough to leave a vivid mark. Sam howls, the pain shooting through him like lightning, his cock pulsing and jumping against his belly. Ivanov licks over the reddening skin, soothing the sting before biting down again, marking Sam as his.
"Mine," Ivanov growls against Sam's neck, his voice a dark, possessive rumble. "All mine." He punctuates his words with a brutal thrust, grinding his hips against Sam's ass, his cock buried as deep as it can go.
Ivanov's thrusts become more erratic, more desperate, as he chases his release. The room echoes with the crude slap of flesh on flesh, the creaking of the bed frame as it strains under their passionate coupling. Ivanov's fingers dig into Sam's hips hard enough to leave vivid bruises, marking Sam as his, claiming him in the most primal way possible.
"Fuck, Sam," Ivanov grunts, his breath coming in harsh pants against Sam's neck. "Gonna... fuck, gonna come. Gonna fill this tight boycunt with my seed." His hips jackhammer forward, the force of his thrusts rocking Sam up the bed, the headboard slamming against the wall.
Sam can only moan out loud, his voice hoarse and ragged, his throat raw from the force of Ivanov's onslaught. Tears stream down his face, but his cock is a rigid, throbbing line against his belly, the head an angry red and leaking steadily. The pleasure is overwhelming, the pain blurring the edges of his consciousness until all he can focus on is the feel of Ivanov's cock splitting him open, claiming him, ruining him for anyone else.
"Ah..aAh~! S..slow down..!" Sam sobs, not even sure what he's begging for anymore. "Please, Ivanov, please..." He clenches down around Ivanov's pistoning length, the muscles fluttering and squeezing, trying to milk Ivanov's impending release.
Ivanov snarls, a feral sound of dark triumph, as Sam's clenching pushes him over the edge. His cock throbs, pulsing hard as he starts to come, flooding Sam's insides with thick, hot ropes of his seed. Sam wails, the sensation of Ivanov's release triggering his own, his cock jerking and twitching as he spills over, painting his chest and belly with streaks of pearlescent come.
Ivanov collapses on top of Sam, his hips still twitching with the aftershocks of his intense climax. He pants harshly against Sam's neck, his skin slick with sweat, his body heavy and sated. Sam lies limply beneath him, trembling and mewling softly, his body aching and used in the best possible way. They stay like that for a long moment, catching their breath, basking in the afterglow of their dark coupling.